Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,45

I’ll get back to you.” She suddenly looks at her watch and acts overly dismayed. “Oh no! We’re going to be late!”

“We are?” I’m afraid to ask what we’re late for, but of course that’s not going to stop Alice Inwonderland Guckenburger from telling the world.

“Yes! Of course we are. Remember? We’re going to go get our mustaches waxed together.”

Marc starts to snicker and backs away, his hand going up to his mouth.

I’m fuming, ready to wring her neck. I battle to keep my voice calm. “Oh, yeah. Our mustaches. How could I forget?” My smile is tighter than tight.

May looks up at Marc and gives him a little wave. “It was nice to meet you, Marc. I’ll be talking to you soon. Come on, Gigi, let’s go. We don’t want you giving anyone the cactus treatment when you kiss him now, do we?” She pushes me toward the passenger side of the van and goes around to the driver’s side herself.

I walk past Marc with my head down, my face flaming red. How did I lose control of that situation so quickly and so completely? And where and how does May come up with this crap?

I decide the answer as to why I lost control has to lie with Lucky. I’m distracted because of what happened between us almost two weeks ago, and, as a result, I’ve been thrown completely off my game. As to how May comes up with this crap? I have no theory on that other than the one suggesting she’s a complete maniac who obviously has a lot of juice up in heaven; she must have ten guardian angels watching out for her to get away with the nonsense she does.

“See you around, Gigi,” Marc says as I get into the van.

God, I hope not. “Maybe,” I say out loud, affecting a casual air I definitely do not feel.

I wait until we’re in the van and driving away before I grab a hunk of May’s hair and yank it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ow! What’d you do that for?” May holds her head as she drives, scowling at me.

“Don’t ask me that stupid question. You know very well why I did that. You could’ve gotten us both killed.”

I have no idea how she’s driving through the neighborhood streets so smoothly. She’s normally not this cool after dealing with a stressful situation. If I were behind the wheel right now, we’d be laying rubber all over town getting away. I have enough adrenaline in me to power an elephant, and besides, nobody under the age of seventy drives slow around here; it looks suspicious. May can get away with it because anyone looking at her would know she doesn’t belong here.

She’s looking way too satisfied as she pulls out onto Tulane Avenue. “Are you kidding? I totally just handled that guy.”

I snort. “You’re lucky he didn’t handle you. What was wrong with what I was doing? What made you feel like you had to intervene?”

“For your information, he was standing in the perfect position for me to look in the side mirror and see his backside. While you were handling things, he was reaching into his waistband pulling his gun out.” She glares at me. “So you tell me what you think his next move was going to be. Huh? What do you think? You think he was just going to compare bullets with you?”

I feel a little sick to my stomach. “I saw his hands going back there. I knew he had a gun.”

“Yeah, but did you know he was taking it out? And did you know that when somebody bothers to take their firearm out in public, they usually intend to use it?”

I have to grit my teeth to keep from yelling at her. “Yes, I’ve attended the same training you have.”

“So then you know that when we see something like that about to happen, our job is to defuse the situation, which I did. So instead of pulling my hair out, you can say, ‘Thank you very much, May,’ and then I’ll say, ‘You’re welcome, Toni.’” She has her nose up so high it’s almost hitting the ceiling.

Guilt nags at my conscience. There’s more than a little bit of truth to what she’s saying, and we both know it. At this point, for me to continue denying it would be silly; but it really kills me to admit this out loud.

“Fine. You handled it. I was handling it, but you handled it better. Thanks for the backup.”

“You’re

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