The corners of Constantine's mouth curl up. “Your message was received. But unless you want to turn my favorite bar into the site of your murder, I suggest that you and your brothers get the fuck out of here.”
I smirk. “That would be a lot fucking scarier if ye didn’t have that wee tremor in yer hand, eh?”
His nostrils flare and the tiniest shudder does go racing through the left side on his body. “I’m going to bury you.”
“Not if I kill ye first.” Smacking my lips, I give him a contemptuous glare.
I back up another pace, then spin on my heel. Feeling like I’ve made sure the message was heard, I stalk out of the bar and into the dying brilliance of the New Orleans sunset. I just keep walking as if I have not a care in the world.
It’s a couple of minutes before my brothers trot up behind me, breathing hard.
“That fucking bawpot!” Ares calls. “He’s stupid and mad in equal measure.”
I look back at him and he has a grimace contorting his face. Checking my watch, I shrug.
“Constantine took the threat just about as well as I expected.” I tap my expensive timepiece. “Let’s meet with our man so we can get the fuck out of this godforsaken hell scape.”
“That’s for damned sure,” Eros mutters.
We hop in the car for the twenty or so blocks through a mostly residential part of New Orleans. I stare out the window, deep in thought.
Outside, the poverty-to-wealth ratio of the neighborhoods we drive through vacillates wildly. Sometimes it fluctuates block to block, swinging from affluent and well maintained to broken down and neglected.
New Orleans is a wild city.
I get out of the car at the address Etienne gave me. It looks like little more than a cracked concrete slab with a little metal shack operating in one corner. There is a park next to it with a few picnic tables sitting on the trampled down grass.
I swing my gaze around and Etienne straightens from where he was leaning against the table. As I approach, I notice that he is holding some sort of snow cone, smirking into it as he watches the three of us approach.
Etienne is dressed in a white t-shirt, black shorts, and black sandals. As I stalk up to him, he can’t suppress a grin.
“Y’all walking around here, lookin like the three grimmest motherfucking undertakers I ever did see.” He pops a spoonful of his red snow cone in his mouth. “You be careful less’n you start a rumor that somebody done set all the haints free.”
His New Orleans accent is so thick that I can barely understand what he’s saying.
I look up at the setting sun, pulling at my collar with a finger. “It’s good to see that ye haven’t changed from when I saw ye last, Etienne. Ye were eating then as well, I think.”
He grins around the white plastic spoon in his mouth. “Hope so.”
Ares fidgets and nods to the snow cone. “We are going to get one of those wee things. We’ll be back.”
“Sho nuff,” Etienne says agreeably.
I purse my lips and squint. “So? What do ye have for me?”
He flashes me a toothy smile. “You was asking everybody who has the best forger. And I’m happy to say that I already done got her for ya.”
“Her?” I cross my arms and narrow my eyes. “I talked to Smithson and he has a guy he swears by.”
Etienne snorts. “Maybe he do. But I’m telling you right now. You need art replicated? Wine labels done up just so? Documents forged? Then this is the woman ya need to speak ta. My girl does it all. And she’s cheap, too.”
I spear him with a glare. “If she’s so great, why isn’t she here?”
“She’s an artist, baby. She likes to hide out by herself. Probably because of who she used to date, ya heard?” His eyes shine with mirth. “She’s a real beauty. I’m telling you, she look like a fuckin model. And this is the best part…” He pauses, as though for dramatic effect. “My girl used to run with Constantine.”
My eyebrows rise. “What does that mean? She worked for him?”
He shrugs. “Work for. Date. Fuck. I heard that she and Constantine got real close with another girl, her best friend. And then one morning, the friend showed up on the coast, dead. My girl vanished. Constantine is still hunting for her, looking high and low.” He grins. “But I know where to find her.”
“Constantine has an ex-girlfriend on the run?” I run my tongue over my teeth, my mind turning over the near endless list of possibilities. “Where can I find her?”
“Hold up.” Etienne points the spoon at me. “I got conditions. One, you never mention that I told you where to find her. She doesn’t want anything to do with this kinda business. She don’t want to be found, you dig?”
“Aye.” I wave a hand, impatient. “Get to the point.”
“I’ma need to be paid too. I think a finder’s fee of ten thousand will do it.” He arches a brow, as if he has now presented me with a challenge.
I turn, looking for Ares. I wave him over. He trots up, his mouth red from eating the bright red snow cone.
“What’s up?”
“Fetch ten thousand for Etienne.” I turn, expectant. “Okay? Now give me the forger’s name and tell me where to find her.”
He wanders over, his voice dropping a little bit. “Her name is Penny Corbin. And here…”
He moves quickly, surprising me. Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he drops a tiny envelope in my pocket.
I freeze for a second before my animal instincts kick in. Instantly I buck his arm, turning and striking his throat. My other hand comes up, driving open palmed into his chest, shoving him away forcefully.
Etienne makes a gagging sound, his hands going to his throat. His eyes bug out and he backs away from me. “What the fuck?”
My heart rate is through the fucking roof. My blood is made of pins and needles. I shake my hands, my gaze fixed on his face.
“Don’t fucking touch me. Nobody should ever touch me when I’m not expecting it.”
Etienne looks at me like I’m crazy.
Ares comes trotting up, holding out a neat envelope of cash. “Ye two playing nice, are ye?”
Etienne snatches the money from Ares, glaring at both of us. “Don’t call me again, motherfucker. I don’t need to take money from people who is bat shit crazy, ya heard?”
Then he turns, one hand still at his neck, and starts to bolt across the park in the opposite direction from where I came. Ares shrugs and pulls a face, looking at me.
“Did ye get something good?”
I push out a breath and uncurl my fists. “Maybe.”
Fishing in my pocket for the info, I open the tiny envelope. Inside, there is a plain index card with a name and address printed on it.
“Persephone Corbin,” I read off. My heart starts beating at the sound of her name although I don’t exactly know why.
I squint over my shoulder, looking back toward the little shack where Eros stands. Two girls stand next to him, talking and flirting. Girls are always drawn to my brothers, presumably because they look handsome in their suits and they are so rich that money just drips from them. Eros also happens to be so fucking charming that it’s a surprise when women don’t slip him their panties under the table.