Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,120
we ready to do this?”
I nod. “We’re ready.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The music is playing and I’m waiting at the end of the aisle with Jenny. When the regular music switches over to the Wedding March, Jenny urges the four little kids to move into position. According to May, ring bearers and flower girls are supposed to be at the end of the wedding party’s procession, but neither she nor her sister believed they could be trusted to execute their roles properly without supervision, so here we are, letting them go first.
Sammy pushes Jacob’s wheelchair down the aisle as Jacob holds a pillow with rings attached to it in his hands. Both boys wear sober expressions, concentrating on their very important jobs. Jenny is beaming.
The girls come next, happily throwing flower petals all over the place, not limiting their spread to the aisle itself but also sprinkling plenty on the guests sitting nearby. I put my bouquet up to my face to hide my smile. Lucky and Ozzie are looking down at their folded hands, battling laughter. It looks like flower bombs are going off and the guests are taking on shrapnel.
Jenny is next. She follows sedately, pausing from time to time to brush petals off guests’ heads and shoulders. I consider this a good call on her part, because May would probably panic if she knew her nieces were attacking guests with her flowers. The little girls are currently in a wrestling match over their baskets; the older one seems to be winning. Jenny arrives at the temporary altar under the flowered arbor just in time to referee.
I’m just looking over my shoulder at the back door of the house, expecting May to walk through the opening behind me, when something weird catches my eye. A wedding guest standing with the catering staff off to the side steps out from behind the group to become visible. I shouldn’t recognize him because he’s definitely not a cop or family, but I do.
My heart leaps up into my throat when I look at the guy more closely and see the scar on his cheek. Holy shit, it’s Marc Doucet! I glance left and right, my mind racing. Why is he here? No one invited him, that’s for damn sure. Are there members of his gang with him?
Scanning, scanning, scanning . . . I’m looking all around, as casually as I can, and everything seems in order, but I wouldn’t put it past him to take out his anger at having his operation shut down on this wedding party.
There’s no time to think about the risk or the danger I’m putting myself in. I have to handle this situation before everything blows up.
“I’m just going to go check on the bride,” I say loudly, walking as quickly as I can into the house. I know I’m causing a stir by not going down the aisle as expected, but I’m hoping everyone will write it off as a bridesmaid helping a nervous bridezilla.
As soon as I cross the threshold, I throw my bouquet to the side and rush over to Thibault and May.
She’s frowning at me. “Why’d you throw your flowers on the ground like that? The petals are breaking . . .”
“Shush, we don’t have any time.” I turn to Thibault. “Doucet is here.”
He looks at me like I’ve lost my very last marble. “What?”
I point out to the yard, getting more desperate by the second. “He’s here!” I’m whispering as loudly as I can. “He’s out there! With the caterers, dressed in a suit.”
“No, he’s not,” May says. “I didn’t invite him or anything. I was only joking about that.” She pauses as she bites her lip. Then her expression changes drastically to one of worry. “I maaaay have accidentally butt-dialed him once, though.” She cringes as Thibault and I both turn our full attention on her.
“What did you do?” he asks, his voice dangerously low.
She huffs out a breath and drops her voice to a loud whisper. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think anything happened, so I just hung up and forgot about it.” She looks over her shoulder at the backyard. “Are you sure he’s here? Maybe it’s someone who just looks like him.”
I grab her hand and shake it, causing a few flower petals in her bouquet to loosen and fall. “May, listen to me! He’s here! And he can’t possibly be showing up just to try to catch your garter at the reception.”