Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Remi
“Monarch court, when we arrive at the riverfront landing, the king and queen will disembark first, and then the king’s court, followed by the queen’s.
Please stay in order as we line up behind the mayor and the king and queen for the key ceremony,” a woman with a headset and clipboard announces, almost as officious as clipboard lady from the charity gala.
My heartbeat skids erratically as I try not to look over the edge of the riverboat, while also not trying to look at Angelo and Laurie cuddled up at the front of the pack.
“You’re Alessandra Calvani,” the woman behind me in line taps my shoulder.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I say, hoping I don’t sound too cornbread.
“Heard about the little kerfuffle at the mayor’s party.”
“The what?” I say in a bored tone, channeling Alessandra. Plus, I don’t know what the word kerfuffle means.
“Your brother’s arrest, dear. And then your little spat with Dr. Khol.”
“Then I’m sure you heard my brother was released without charges,” I say, internally cringing. Agreed; I’m never playing the role of Angelo’s sister again. It’s too freaking weird.
“Oh, yes. It’s the talk of the town,” she says excitedly. “And with everyone here today, who knows what will happen?”
I follow her gaze, wishing I hadn’t. Laurie’s leaning into Angelo, whispering something in his ear.
It doesn’t mean anything. He’s playing a role. We’re both all in. Stay focused on the grab.
The boat docks, and Laurie and Angelo are the first to exit the gangway, welcomed by a trumpeters’ procession.
You’ve gotta be kidding me.
Ellis is one of the trumpeters, dressed in a court jester outfit.
He’s the fool, not me. Stay focused on the grab.
Pretending to drop something, I dive to the ground and crawl around on my hands and knees “Go on, I don’t want to hold up the line,” I tell the gossip behind me. She proceeds, and I stay down until I’m the last in line.
“Ms. Calvani, you were to remain in order.” Something about clipboards makes people officious; this phenomenon should also be studied.
I rise, straightening out my dress with my hands. “Sorry,” I say, hurrying down the gangplank while gripping the railing for dear life, because not today, Mississippi River.
My cleavage is practically nonexistent, but that doesn’t stop Ellis from attempting to sneak a peek over his horn.
Ugh, he’s the worst.
At the tail end of the procession, I keep my peripheral vision on the mayor as I appear to look straight ahead, climbing the stage stairs. My heart beats in my ears when I line up directly behind him and move my hand, going for the phone on his clip, but there is no phone.
Coming to a stop at my spot on the end, I notice a rectangular bulge in his left pocket.
Nooooo!
Blowing out a breath, I calm myself. I have one more shot when the procession exits.
The emcee takes the microphone to announce the mayor, because apparently, if you’re the mayor, you can’t announce yourself. “Let’s give a warm welcome to Mayor Morrissey.”
The mayor accepts the microphone to a round of applause.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Lundi Gras,” the mayor booms, and the crowd cheers.
“The revelry of Fat Tuesday is drawing near, I’ve decided to hand over the key to the city to the King and Queen of Carnival.
King and Queen, do you promise to make merry this Mardi Gras season, and to dutifully return the key come Wednesday? ”
“I do,” Angelo says.
“I do,” Laurie says, making eyes with Angelo like she wishes these were different vows.
He’s all in with me. He’s all in with me. He’s all in with me.
“I, Mayor Morrissey, hereby entrust the King and Queen of Carnival with the key to the city.” The mayor hands over a large prop of a key, and Angelo and Laurie take it, with Laurie of course touching Angelo’s hand. “ Laissez les bon temps roul!”
The crowd goes wild.
Trumpeters begin playing, and that’s the court’s cue to march off the stage.
The court files out while I impatiently wait my turn.
After what feels like a lifetime, the woman in front of me goes, and I’m up.
I saunter along, waving to the crowd. Behind the mayor, I “trip” and bump into his back, my hand pleating up the fabric of the pocket and lifting the phone.
As he’s turning around, I move the phone to my cape’s inner pocket.
“You alright?” He eyes me.
“Yeah, sorry,” I mutter, continuing on my way.
My pulse is pounding like a snare as I walk down the steps and into the sea of people. Angelo and Laurie are being interviewed by the news station. She grabs his hand, and my heart is in my throat, my feet rooted in place.
“Cannon, stay focused,” Maks barks in my ear. “Two of our men are waiting on you. Walk toward the river, and they’ll escort you to the drop-off point.”
Forcing myself to move, I weave in and out of people until I join the two men. We don’t acknowledge each other, with one leading the way and one trailing along behind me. Walking a city block, we arrive at the parking garage.
“Third floor,” Maks reminds me as we reach the elevator.
I fidget back and forth while we wait on the elevator, something about this not feeling right.
Tires screech.
I turn around.
Soft pops.
The men on either side of me crumble to the floor.
Maks is in my ear, but I can’t hear over my screams as men pour out of the van and grab my arms. “No!” I struggle, but they drag me to the van and shove me inside.
The sliding door is slammed shut. “Let me go!” I cry, but I’m outnumbered. My wrists are quickly restrained behind my back, a piece of tape slapped over my mouth.
We peel out of the garage, and Maks says in my ear, “Stay calm; we’re following you.”
Stay calm? How the hell is anyone supposed to stay calm in this situation? I’ve only ever been politely kidnapped, not for real kidnapped!
My mask is ripped off my face, a shocked hush falling over the men as I blink rapidly.
“Idiot! This isn’t his sister!” one of the men shouts.
The van screeches to a stop, and the door opens. I’m flung over a shoulder and carried toward the edge of the bridge.
No!
I go flying, my silent scream swallowed by the impact of the Mississippi River.
And with my hands bound, I sink like a fucking stone.