Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
Angelo
“Kirksey, you little weasel.” My brother reaches for his gun, but all the muscle in the room turns their guns on us. Fabien lifts his hands in a surrender motion.
“You asked to borrow a crew, Fabien; you didn’t ask for loyalty.” Kirksey takes a seat on Remi’s new piano bench, and it pisses me right off.
“How the fuck did you get out of prison?” Fabien demands.
“Same way as you. Recalculation of time served.” He presses several keys, and the harsh sound enrages me.
I’m going to cut off every single one of those fingers for daring to touch Remi’s piano.
“You have our attention, Mr. Willis. What is it you want?” I call.
He fixes his smirk on me. “The great Angelo Calvani. Working so damn hard to launder the reputation of the Calvani family. Businessman. Philanthropist. Mr. New Orleans. King of Carnival.”
“I’m not giving autographs at the moment,” I say in a bored tone.
Kirksey laughs. “Fabien, you never mentioned your brother had a sense of humor.”
“News to me,” Fabien mutters.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m expanding my territory, which now includes New Orleans. Angelo, you’re going to sign over the deed to the hotel; so really, you are giving autographs.”
“You want to cosplay me?” I click my tongue. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Kirksey, but an ex pimp such as yourself would be better suited in a brothel than a boardroom.”
Fabien discreetly kicks me under the table.
Kirksey’s eyes flicker with anger, but he hides it with a chuckle. “Fabien, I’m starting to understand why you wanted your brother dead. He is a self-righteous prick.”
“No argument there,” Fabien agrees, and it’s my turn to kick my brother under the table.
Kirksey grabs a cigarette from a pack, lighting it and taking a puff. “Here’s how this plays out. Fabien, you’ll commit the homicide of your brother, and then you’ll kill yourself. The least I can do is let you go out with a little pri?—”
There’s a commotion; the bizarre sound, like tap dancing on a steel drum.
“What the hell?” Kirksey looks up, as do we all.
A large piece of sheet metal comes crashing down, along with Nola, both landing on Kirksey.
Nola latches onto Kirksey’s head as he squeals, falling to the stage. “What the fuck is this? A bobcat?”
Gunfire pops off, and Fabien grabs his gun before kicking the table over. He jerks me down, but I shrug out of his hold.
Kirksey’s face looks like it’s been through a meat grinder as he flings Nola off him. Time slows as Nola goes flying, and Kirksey takes off running backstage.
Panic bubbles in my chest as I sprint up the stairs to catch Nola, but the cat lands on her feet.
Something hits me in the back, except I don’t land on mine; I’m knocked forward, landing on my stomach.
Dazed, I lift my head, with Fabien looming over me with his gun.
He curses, shoving his weapon in his waistband before helping me roll to my back. “You better not die like a little bitch and leave this unfinished between us. And when the fuck did you get a bobcat?”
“I’m wearing a vest.” I rip the buttons of my shirt and unsnap the vest, and the bullet drops to the floor. “She’s not a bobcat, but yes, Nola’s mine.” Remi’s mine, so by extension, Nola’s mine. “We’ll work out our situation later; right now, go put a bullet in Kirksey’s head.”
“With pleasure.” My brother takes off.
I scoop Nola up, giving my savior a cuddle. “We won’t tell your human that I stole you from her.”
Remi
“Was that—” My hands go to my mouth, my heart in my throat.
Gunfire.
“Cover your ears!”
“Why?”
Too late, because Alessandra has already shot out Sienna’s window. “Come on.” She climbs through, angling her body to miss the broken glass, and as I’m doing the same, another round of fire has my ears ringing.
“Dammit,” Alessandra curses. “I only clipped him. I’ve gotta work on my aim.”
“Who?” I ask, climbing out onto the pavement.
“Cornbread. I think he’s the problem? I’m not one hundred percent sure on that, but either way, he got himself a bullet graze.”
Before I can process this information, the man I’ve only seen in photographs, Fabien Calvani, screeches to a stop. “Where did he go?”
“Where is Angelo?” I force my voice steady.
Fabien’s cold blue eyes meet mine. “Inside with his bobcat. Where did Kirksey go?” he asks his sister.
“That way. Follow the blood.” Alessandra points toward the alley, and Fabien takes off.
The interior office door opens, and Nic appears, cursing. “Jesus Christ. Get the fuck back inside the building.”
I climb back through the window, and then Alessandra.
“Remi, come to the lounge. Al, it’s best you lay low, because Angelo said you’re cooked.”
“No way Angelo said that,” Alessandra argues.
“He used fancier terms.” Nic snatches the gun from his cousin. “I’m paraphrasing.”
I hurry past them into the lounge, my eyes landing on Angelo with his shirt ripped off, cuddling Nola on stage.
My co-conspirator is now hanging back, using her cousin as a human shield.
There’s a soft pop , and I glance across the room to where Maks is using what I think is a silencer on his weapon, placing a bullet in what looks like an already dead man’s head.
“Alessandra Calvani, you are grounded for eternity!” Angelo thunders. “Nic, care to explain your role in this?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Your sister sort of talked me into coming, to stop you and Fabien from killing each other.”
I hurry onto the stage, falling to my knees beside Angelo and Nola. “Are you both okay? She’s bleeding!”
Angelo uses his tie to dab the blood from Nola’s belly. “Nola’s scraped up a bit; we’ll have the vet check her out.”
“Are you alright?” I ask, examining his body for any signs of injury.
“Remi, I’m fine,” he says reassuringly.
“It looks like things went well with the family reunion.” I take a pointed look around the room, the smoky haze of gunfire lingering in the air; bullet holes decorating the walls; not to mention the dead bodies.
“As well as expected, I suppose.” Angelo sighs. “Happy birthday, amorina . Your lounge will need a thorough cleaning and refurbishment, and of course, a new sign outside.”
“I’m sorry, my what?” My hand that was petting Nola goes still.
“Your birthday gift: you’re the new pianist for the rebranded Hotel Nola lounge. How does that sound?”
“Like E major to my ears.” I smile, my lips meeting his.
Remi
“And you’re sure Nola will be alright, us leaving her?” I worry my bottom lip.
Pulling up the security system on his phone, Angelo shows me the live feed from the living room. I watch in real time as Nola hops up on the couch wearing her cone, and…uh oh.
She’s spraying the couch.
I cringe. “Nola is still pissed at us.” A small shard of metal was embedded in Nola’s stomach and had to be removed by the vet and stitched up, hence the cone of shame.
“I wouldn’t be happy wearing that thing, either,” Angelo muses, closing out his phone.
“What happens with your brother now that he’s out of prison?” I ask.
“Fabien and I will work things out, but first things first. I promised you fireworks.”
“And no Mississippi River.”
“No Mississippi River.”
Smiling, I lean in and tickle his beard.
“What are you stealing from me now?” he muses.
“Check your left wrist.”
He pushes up his tuxedo sleeve to find his family watch that I stole the first time we met.
“I had one of your men fetch it from the storage unit; thought you might want it back. In case you wanted to play out your fantasy sometime soon?” I whisper.
He wraps his hand around my throat, my pussy fluttering wildly as he pulls me inches from his lips. “Soon.” Angelo claims my mouth with a possessive kiss.
“Boss, we’re here.” Maks clears his throat, but Angelo ignores him, giving my tongue one last twirl with his before he pulls back.
I’m all hot and flustered as the door opens, and Angelo slides out first, holding out his hand to help me out.
The flash of photographers is blinding, but Angelo takes my hand, leading me down the red carpet.
“Mr. Calvani, this way,” a photographer shouts.
Angelo pauses, wrapping his arm around me.
“Who’s your friend?” someone shouts.
“This is my girlfriend, Remi Landry,” he announces before pressing a kiss to my lips, making my heart all warm and tingly. “Talented jazz pianist and star of the soon-to-be rebranded Hotel D’Amico lounge.”
More questions are hurled our way, but Angelo holds up his free hand. “All will be announced in due time. Right now, I have a key that needs to be returned to the mayor.”
We enter the restaurant and climb the stairs to the rooftop patio, to find it transformed into a Mardi Gras wonderland. I spot the mayor on stage; he’s seated on a kingly throne, the crush of partygoers dancing to the music pumped over the speakers.
Laurie waves the giant key in her hand, making a beeline for Angelo. She notices me, her stride faltering, but she continues her march.
“Angelo, there you are. It’s time for the ceremony.” She turns her attention to me, giving me the stink eye. “Why is your sister’s piano teacher here?”
Angelo presses his lips to mine. “Be right back, amorina. ”
Laurie’s jaw is on the floor as Angelo snatches the key from her and moves to the stage.
Tapping the microphone, Angelo announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s midnight, and that means Mardi Gras is over.”
The crowd playfully boos.
“Sadly, it is time for the King and Queen of Carnaval to return the key to the city to the Mayor.”
Laurie pushes her way on stage, standing beside Angelo with a tight smile.
The music is killed, and the crowd parts as a swarm of police officers appears, flooding the stage. “James Morrisey, you’re under arrest.”
“What is this?” Laurie demands.
“Laurie Kohl, you’re under arrest.”
Both the mayor and the doctor are escorted out of the party in handcuffs, cellphones and cameras capturing every angle.
Angelo announces, “Because I’m still technically the king, I say we keep this key and laissez les bon temps roul! ”
Angelo
The firework display begins, and I make my way through the crowd in search of Remi.
“Didn’t you get the last laugh?” My colleague on the hospital board tells me with a jovial handshake.
“Not a hand in this,” I lie. “But while I’ve got your ear, I’d like the city council to know that I’d be interested in the interim mayoral appointment. Should one become necessary if our mayor were to step down. Hypothetically, of course.”
He slaps my back. “Consider it ‘hypothetically’ done.”
Excusing myself, I make my way to Remi, who smiles at me.
I wrap my arms around her petite frame, kissing the top of her head. She tilts her head backwards, looking up at me. “Nice fireworks,” she says with a giggle.
Leaning over, I steal another kiss. One of many I plan on stealing for the rest of our lives.