Page 19 of Steal My Heart
Strapless. Off the shoulder. Halter. A-line. Every style of ball gown you could imagine. All in my size. And don’t get me started on the shoe collection.
“What is your game, Mr. Calvani?”
Choosing a sundress likely more expensive than my entire wardrobe combined, I throw my hair up in a messy bun and venture downstairs to explore, with Nola hot on my heels.
Angelo
“Is it done?” I ask Maks, closing the security feed on my phone. Haven’t been able to get a damn thing accomplished today, not with Remi flittering about the house like a butterfly.
No honor among thieves.
She’s been burned before, her beautiful wings singed. And when I find out who is responsible, I plan on dousing them with gasoline and striking the match.
Maks rolls up his dress shirt, presenting his shredded forearm like a trial exhibit. “Yes, and I nearly got killed by that fucking jungle cat.”
“Don’t be melodramatic,” I tell him dismissively. “It’s a Savannah house cat.”
“It’s a jungle cat,” he grumbles.
“What else have you learned about Remi’s past?”
“Pulled her birth certificate and did some more digging. Remi Marie Landry, twenty-one years of age. Her mother died from childbirth complications.”
“From a sibling?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “From Remi’s birth.”
Damn.
“The grandmother raised her in Cajun Country until Remi was around eight, and that’s when she moved to New Orleans to live with her dad, Charles ‘Charlie’ Landry.”
“Why did Remi move with her dad?”
“The grandmother died,” he reports.
Death has always surrounded Remi. We have something in common.
“Find out why she left the city and the circumstances surrounding her outstanding warrants.”
“On it.”
My phone buzzes, and I grab it from my pocket and check the caller ID. “What do you have for me, Detective Pierre?” I answer on speakerphone.
“Not much to report so far. A witness on the scene last night snapped a pic of the second vehicle’s plate. I deleted the photo and corrected their ‘misunderstanding’ of what happened. Ran the plate when I got back to the station; it was a fake.”
Considering my next move, I announce, “I don’t want you bringing more attention to the ‘incident.’ It’ll die down on its own. For now, keep your ear to the ground.”
“Understood.”
Ending the call, I ask Maks, “Where are we with the Fabien situation?” I’m dealing with too many pots in the fire.
“I should receive the records no later than tomorrow. As far as the phone call recordings, those will take a few more days.”
“This takes priority above all else.”
“Even your new pet?”
“Careful,” I warn him.
