‘No!’ Zeb backed off.
‘Don’t be a buzzkill.’ Beth snorted. ‘Get out of your comfort zone. That’s what you tell us, don’t you?’
‘Carnival and dancing? No chance.’ Zeb moved backwards in his room.
Beth caught his upper arm and yanked him out into the lobby, where the rest of his team were grinning.
‘You could have gone without me,’ he protested.
‘We could. What would be the fun in that?’ Chloe winked at him.
He followed them out of their hotel with a resigned shrug.
The Carnival in Rio. Several of its residents proudly claimed it was the greatest spectacle on the planet.
Arguable, he thought, but for sure no other city puts on such a show.
They were in Santa Teresa, near the center of the city. Beth had insisted they skip the Sambadrome, the parade of the samba troupes and bands, to go to the blocko, the street party, in the neighborhood.
‘It’ll be better. It’s spontaneous.’ Her eyes had flashed.
Beth, in full-enthusiasm-mode, didn’t take no for an answer and they had followed her.
Nine in the morning.
The narrow, winding streets of Santa Teresa, with houses on either side. Each residence had balconies beneath which ran the sidewalks. Pillars supporting the terraces at regular intervals.
The street and the sidewalks were packed with revelers. Balconies were filled with spectators. Families, couples, single men and women, and groups of friends, in various attire, faces decorated, many of them holding banners and flags.
The sound was deafening at street level. The sounds of drums, pipes, bands, and music playing on speakers as the blocko participants slowly made their way to Odylo Costa Neto Square.
Slowly was the operative word. The crowd barely seemed to move.
Zeb shook his head when a woman offered him a beer can. Someone poured glitter from a balcony.
Bwana and the twins disappeared into the crowd and appeared next to the band and a bunch of dancers. Broker, Bear, Chloe and Roger drifted farther away.
Zeb shook his head when Bwana beckoned at him.
‘Nope, I’ll watch.’ His words were lost in the sounds of the revelry.
He first thought it was a strobe. The red dot that settled on Bwana’s chest.
No flashing lights around. No one with a laser in their hand.
His smile vanished when the red dot moved over Bwana’s chest and steadied over his heart.
‘SHOOTER!’ he yelled.
His warning was lost in the Carnival’s sounds.
