Page 12 of Steal My Heart
“He wants donations for his pet projects. Private dining booth at your establishment, his meals and drinks comped. Female ‘companions’ at certain private events. Oh, and a monthly stipend of 50 grand.”
“Who the hell does this man think he is?” I seethe. “Is there word on who he’ll name as the new police chief?” Fuck the mayor; I’ll cut out the middleman and deal directly with the chief.
“All the names that have been floated are real hard noses. Your best bet is dealing directly with the mayor.”
“Not what I want to hear.” I growl.
“Boss.” Maks sticks his head in the door.
“I’ll get back to you.” I end the call with Mr. Bennett.
“Got our guy,” Maks announces.
“Tell me the story again, from the beginning.” I circle the cook, who’s found himself in a bind. Figuratively and literally, as Maks has him bound to a chair in one of my warehouses.
“She goes by Yvonne now, but her name’s Remi Landry,” he says, his brow sweating profusely.
“How did you know her?” The edge in my voice startles me, and I try to check whatever the hell that was.
“Through her old man, Charlie Landry. He was a street performer and pickpocket.”
“Where is he?” I ask.
“Charlie passed away recently. Figured that’s why Remi was back in town.”
“What do you mean? Where did she go?”
“Don’t know. She and her old man must’ve had some kind of falling out, but I don’t know the details. Charlie was tight-lipped about it.”
“And Remi’s mother?” I ask
“She was never mentioned.”
“Alright, so you ran into Remi last week at your other job.”
He nods. “She came into the bar and offered me cash to help her get into the charity gala I was working.”
“How much cash?”
“Gave me a thousand on the spot, with the other grand when she got inside.”
“And why did she want inside this gala?” I prompt.
“Didn’t say. I assumed she wanted to work her pickpocket game. Rich men. Cash bar. Easy pickings.”
Easy pickings indeed.
“How did she get past security?” I wonder.
“The event coordinator left the RSVP list lying around, and I saw that some lady doctor wouldn’t be able to make it. So I swiped the doc’s name tag, signed her in, and let Remi come through the service entrance.”
Ah, the irony. Remi was pretending to be my date. She certainly played the part well. Christ, what in the hell came over me, kissing her like that in the middle of a crowded dance floor? Cool and calculated; I don’t have an impulsive bone in my body, and yet I was far too willing to make an exception for this woman.
Shaking away thoughts of the little pickpocket, I ask the cook, “Was the name ‘Angelo Calvani’ ever mentioned?”
He gulps. “No, sir.”
“Where can I find Remi?” While I don’t have an impulsive bone, I do have a bone to pick with the woman.
