Chapter 27 Mindfuck

Wren

The parade ended too soon. I could've partied all night with Mag standing behind me, especially after all the nice things he'd said earlier about watching me have fun.

But the parade came to an end in Jackson Square, and the krewe spilled down the stairs of the float, buzzing with excitement. We mingled with the celebration in the street, and I realized the party was not over at all, just beginning as we were greeted with cheers and hugs all around.

Sylvie received lavish praise on the float's success and the Southern accents were everywhere. Mag seemed especially popular among the local females who were calling him sugar and honey . A few of them called him Antoinne, so they knew him from before he became Magnum. He made eye contact with me, but I was feeling overwhelmed with all the new people, so I gave him some space with his admirers.

I paused on the sidewalk to gather myself when three of the women from the float walked up to me in a way that seemed to be very purposeful. Stella had mentioned they worked in a different Knight Security office, but she didn't know much about them.

A beautiful blonde woman, a brunette who looked like she could be a supermodel, and a voluptuous redhead approached me. They were all very tan or they had darker skin, I couldn't tell, but I felt pale and small in comparison.

Their smiles seemed forced, but I gave them the benefit of the doubt and assumed they were friendly. "So, you're with Mag tonight?" the blonde one asked me. She was wearing a tight little sequined royal purple dress and a hat in the shape of a castle. A rook then. She had a ton of beads around her neck meaning she'd probably shown her tits a lot.

I returned a forced smile but didn't reply. Based on what she said, the benefit of the doubt that they were friendly was gone.

"He's good." The redhead said, nodding agreement even though I hadn't answered the first girl's question. She was also draped in beads, but she wore a top hat with a green, purple, and gold checkerboard pattern that matched her dress. "Talented." She winked at me.

Um. Eew. What the heck?

"Just a warning," the blonde rook said. "Mag's a mindfuck."

I flinched back and held up my palm in her face. "Really..."

"I don't think he's a mindfuck," the brunette said, ignoring my discomfort with this conversation that I had not even consented to having. She had a ball-shaped hat with a point, and it took me a minute to figure out she was a pawn. I pressed my fingers to my lips to hold back my laugh.

"You haven't slept with him. If you did, you'd know." The blonde rook said to the brunette pawn as she crossed her arms under her ample boobs that were spilling out of her dress.

The pawn turned her gaze to me. "Did you sleep with him?" she asked pointedly.

I blinked several times, shocked by their forwardness. "This isn't really an appropriate conversation. "

"We're just warning you. Sister to sister." The redhead in the top hat motioned between us like we were in some sort of club together, which we were not. "His little act to get rid of you only makes you want him more. It can really mess with your head." She made a sad, nodding face like she felt sorry for me for going through what she had suffered.

I didn't understand these women. Maybe they were making a serious effort trying to warn me about Mag's red flags. Stella had already been there, and Mag had told me honestly about his flaws, but this didn't seem good intentioned at all. This seemed sort of gossipy and reeked of jealousy.

Now, I didn't like meeting new people or confrontation, but I was done being invisible. I was here for the purpose of having fun and letting loose, and they were attempting to jam a wrench into my efforts.

For once, I didn't keep my thoughts to myself. I shared. "Listen. I don't know you, and I'm not sure why you're talking to me, but if you were lucky enough to spend time with Magnum, and he happened to be mean to you, and not only did you not put him in his place, you liked it, then maybe you should seek out a therapist for your messed up head instead of approaching strangers in the middle of Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras."

I was shocked I'd said it but not as shocked as their faces.

Before they could form a reply, Stella and Sylvie found me and pulled me away from the other women. "C'mon, girl."

"Thank you so much, you guys. I was stuck. They cornered me and started talking trash about Mag. I stood up for myself and for him, I think. "

"Good job. Don't worry about them. They're just jealous," Stella said with her arm over my shoulders. "Let's get back to having fun."

"Did you make that girl a pawn?" I asked Sylvie.

She smirked and wiped her hands like she was brushing off dirt. "She deserved it."

We laughed as the music swelled. I looked for Mag but didn't see him over all the tall hats and oversized masks. The crowd began to move like one organism as everyone started to dance. I tried to fit in, but I kept bumping into people. I was separated from my friends by a man in a painted mask who grabbed my hands and twirled me in a circle. Other drunk people in ornate costumes weaved around me, and I felt like I was lost in a fever dream.

Something pulled at my shoulder. I turned to see a man wearing a mask with blue feathers tugging the strap of the small purse Sylvie had given me. My arm came up as he forced it over my head. He started running away.

"Hey!" I couldn't believe he took my bag. It didn't have much in it except a few doubloons and some beads, but the crowd was in a frenzy for those items. They were the currency of the culture.

A woman's scream ripped through the plaza, and my skin prickled like it did right before an earthquake. Then I heard it. The sound of crunching fists hitting flesh and the accompanying grunting. Growing up in LA, I'd heard the sound of a fight breaking out more than once. Sure enough, in the middle of the street, a bunch of men were throwing punches.

I tried to back up, but there was nowhere to go. I was pushed to the side and fell to the ground on the curb beside a trash can. From my protected spot, I watched the fight spread and morph from the center outward. The music blared over it all, and people were cheering.

My heart raced. We were having so much fun and everything just erupted into chaos. I didn't recognize anyone among all the faces around me. I felt so alone. Pop-pop-pop-pop . Those gunshots. Were they real or not? I covered my head. I saw Tommy with a gun aimed at my parents. "Please, please, please." I felt tears threatening but forced them back.

No, no, no. This was not real. I was just disoriented. I knew Mag was close by somewhere. I wasn't with Tommy and my dead parents, and I had to stay in control.

I looked up and my eyes locked on Mag pushing through the unruly crowd, his face frantic as he scanned the scene. He made eye contact with me, saw that I was okay, and quickly ushered Sylvie and Julian away from a scuffle that had broken out behind him.

Among all the disturbance, the Knight Security guys seemed calmer than everyone else. They weren't participating in fights but acted like pillars in the dark, keeping the melee under control.

Except Steel. Steel's face was full of rage as he pushed a guy in the chest. "You touch my wife? You touched my wife ?"

Oh boy. His eyes were crazy, and spittle flew out of his mouth as he yelled at the man who had apparently touched Brandy. The guy stupidly took a fighting stance and threw a punch.

Steel flattened the guy with one strike to his jaw. Before Steel could jump on him, Mag wrapped his arms around Steel and wrestled him away .

As this was happening, the blue-winged mask guy who stole my purse ran right in front of me. Rage exploded in my gut like a fire. Why was I always the one cowering and being scared? I didn't want to be a helpless victim anymore. I could be brave like Magnum.

So I jumped up and chased the blue-winged thief. Without thinking it through, I let out a Viking warrior cry and grabbed the strap of my purse. It barely stopped his momentum, and he pulled back on it, yanking it out of my hand. The doubloons tumbled to the ground. "Hey!"

The guy glanced at the ground and considered picking up the loot, but when he looked up, he came face to face with the raging bull that was Magnum Beaumont.

I swear I saw the thief's soul leave his body as he stared at Mag's broad, tattooed chest and shoulders covered by a blue cape. He looked like a New Orleans style superhero.

Mag tugged the purse out of his hand and calmly said, "Get."

The guy dropped the bag and turned to run.

Mag watched him disappear and then his furious eyes were on me. "Were you chasing that guy?"

"He took my purse." I had to yell over the noise, and it came out a lot more screechy than I intended. I was angry but not at Mag.

"Which is full of crap," he said in a condescending tone.

Okay, maybe I was angry at Mag. "It's not crap. It's valuable."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't fall for that shit. Nothing is as it seems, especially at Mardi Gras. The throws are worth nothing. They line the streets in the morning and get swept away with all the trash." He pointed down at the doubloons that had spilled on the street with the cigarette butts and empty cups.

I was about to argue that his sister had special ordered them, but he took my hand and started walking fast through the crowd. We passed by Sylvie and Julian, who were now having fun again and dancing in the street. He gave them a nod and removed his cape and crown. He clenched them in his fist with the purse as he exchanged some quick words with Steel and Kane, who were also calm now and standing around. I didn't see Helix or the rest of the group anywhere. There were several head tilts and scanning eyes before Mag pulled on my hand again.

He led us away from the floats and down a dimly lit side alley with a worn brick path. I felt a thrill of excitement at being in the true heart of New Orleans, not a touristy area, but a dark alley behind the scenes. This was exactly what I wanted, to see parts of the world I'd only dreamed of before.

"You hurt?" he asked me curtly.

"No. I'm okay." I was actually thrilled, but I didn't have the words to explain it to him right then.

"Good."

At the end of a narrow walkway, he took some steps up to an unmarked green door. He pulled us inside, and the noise from the parade muffled as he closed it behind us. We climbed the stairs to a desk with an old woman curled forward watching TV. She turned to him, and they shared brief words with thick Southern accents. He gave her a wad of cash, and she handed him a key. "Don't trash the room."