Page 77 of Steal My Heart
“I’ll scream.”
A burst of fireworks, one loudpopafter the next.
“And no one would hear you.” The barrel digs into my flesh to the point of pain. “Last chance.”
Out of tricks, my hand slips inside my pocket, this time producing the phone.
He snatches it and presses the screen, verifying it’s the mayor’s phone before it gets tossed in the river.
A miracle of a grab, all for nothing. Frustration and fear course through my veins as I say, “Now let me go.”
“Didn’t figure you for a sucker, Ms. Landry.”
He drags me by the arm to the water’s edge.
“No!” I scream, but theboomof fireworks snatches the sound away.
“A shame you can’t swim.” He shoves, and I go flying into the murky waters of the Mississippi.
Angelo
The minutes tick by with me in this holding cell, giving me ample time to consider who I’m going to kill first. It’s a tight race between Detective Pierre and Mr. Bennett—the ladder, because he hasn’t been answering his phone. And I pay my lawyer far too much for him not to answer his fucking phone.
Then again, I can’t forget the mayor, the source of my well-timed arrest. Rubbing it in my face at his victory lap celebration. Oh, but Mayor Morrissey has no idea the kind of war he’s started with me.
Honorable mentions to my piece of shit brother; it goes to show how chaotic things have become that Fabien isn’t sitting at number one. And hell, while I’m on a roll, I might kill Al’s little pussy of a boyfriend out of sheer principle.
My thoughts vacillate between murder and the object of my obsession. And as much as I enjoy chasing Remi, I need to know where she is and if she’s safe.
“Mr. Calvani,” an officer calls, and I look up. “Your lawyer is here to see you.”
The cell door opens, and I’m escorted to a client room where Mr. Bennett lounges without a care in the world.
“Where the hell have you been?” I spit when we’re alone.
Mr. Bennett holds up his hands. “You know I was at the mayor’s party; couldn’t hear my phone over the music.”
“Then turn up the volume on your phone.” I slam my fist onto the table. “I’m not paying you to eat, drink, and be merry while I’m rotting in a fucking jail cell.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Calvani. It won’t happen again.” He cowers.
“Go tell them to either charge me or get hit with the biggest lawsuit this department has ever seen,” I command.
“Hold your horses, Mr. Calvani. Detective Pierre pulled me aside before he had to respond to a separate case; some kind of shooting in the Garden District.”
“Riveting. Get to the point where I care,” I say between my teeth.
“Detective told me he was forced to bring you in for questioning about the shootout that happened in the Quarter.”
“By whom?”
“I’ll give you three guesses, and two of them can be wrong.”
“Mayor Morrissey.” I hiss.
Mr. Bennett nods. “Detective Pierre intends to hold you longer than NOPD policy without charges.”
“To what end?” I demand.
