Chapter 3 Hades
Hades
In the short walk from the air conditioned sedan up the block towards the bar, I feel the intense heat of the New Orleans sun beating down on me. Eros is right on my heels, taking off his jacket as we walk down the street.
“It’s hotter here than fucking Turkmenistan,” Eros mutters. “Who the fuck wants to live in this heat?”
“It’s something about being on the water,” Ares chimes in. “It’s stifling everything.”
“Turkmenistan is on the water, too, ye daft idiot.”
Ares growls at him. “Fuck ye. I’ll fight ye.”
Making it to the doorway, I pause and look back at both of them. “Shut the fuck up. We are about to enter this bar, on good authority that it’s where Constantine likes to hang out. So, get yer shit together and do what yer supposed to do. At least try to appear both silent and intimidating.”
At my sharp words, both of my brothers straighten their spines. Ares sneers and plays with his tie clip. Eros grimaces and flexes his hands.
“Aye,” they say as one.
I run my hand down my suit jacket and turn to pull the heavy metal door open. Outside didn’t look like much. Inside the bar is the opposite, though.
An immediate gust of air conditioning hits me as I walk in, looking around at the dark bar.
Everything about this place is sleek and chic, from the black walls to the elegantly and minimally designed back wall of the bar.
Bottles seem to float in the air, the ledges of floating shelves stacked all the way up the wall.
There are a few tables and booths to my right.
To my left is a glass door that leads to a neatly maintained patio space.
My gaze locks onto a familiar looking figure standing with his back turned to us. Blond hair. A white button up. Slim fitting jeans. Those god awful red snakeskin boots.
Constantine turns his head, showing the briefest flash of surprise. Then he gives a big, toothy grin, one of his front teeth glinting faintly silver.
In the back of my head, Constantine is superimposed over that of Rory Lyon, the first of many bullies I’ve come to know in my life. By contrast, Constantine looks puny, but my fists still tighten as I stalk over to him.
I hear my father’s voice echoing silkily through my mind. He knows just how worthless ye are, boy.
My posture stiffens and I’m ready to take a swing at Constantine, even though he hasn’t said a fucking word to me yet. Eros steps beside me when I plant my feet and glare at him.
“Constantine.”
Constantine flits his gaze over my brothers, smirking. “If it isn’t the Lyon family. Tell me, what brings the second best arms dealers in the world to my doorstep?”
His accent smacks of the old South. It makes every word out of his mouth sound dirty and disingenuous.
Ares lunges forward with a snarl. “Ye know why we’re here, Constantine. Ye fucked with our deal in Turkmenistan. Now we’re going to fuck with ye.”
I lift a hand, which in itself is enough to restrain my brother. Constantine leans on the bar, picking up his tumbler of clear liquid.
“I guess putting the word out that someone was trying to bring guns into the Turkmeni port really did throw a wrench into your plans.” He sips his drink and looks like the cat that ate the canary.
“I’d say sorry, but how can I apologize for something that worked exactly as I intended?
The Russian separatists came running straight to me, by the way.
I sorted them out nicely with an even bigger arms deal.
So, thanks for playing into my plans so perfectly.
Let me know when you have plans to do a big deal like that again. ”
He laughs into his drink. I stare at him, completely cool on the outside. Inside though, I’m a seething morass of hatred.
“I thought ye might say that. So, I have had yer top five goons taken out of operations.” I cock my head to the side, giving him a calculating look. “Three Russians, one Jordanian, and one Saudi. It’s funny how willing people are to turn over the details on completely unlikable bastards.”
I catch the quickest glimpse of rage on Constantine's face before he catches it and covers his anger with a smooth mask. He glances behind him at two very attractive young women who are looking our way.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.
” He shrugs. “I’m just a lobbyist, working to support the second amendment of the United States of America.
I realize that you’re not from around these parts but let me tell you something.
Anything that helps my government and hurts your business is just a cherry on top of my already overflowing sundae. ”
I step closer, using my imposing height to loom over Constantine.
“My next deal is going to be the biggest arms deal ever done. It’ll launch my family into the stratosphere.
” I reach out like I’m going to hit him, then slide the flower in his boutonniere over by an inch.
“Ye’ll be back here, breaking yer back and trying to sell handguns while I’m on my yacht in the Black Sea, counting my money. ”
Constantine smiles grimly. “You have made so many fucking enemies, Hades. You’ve double crossed and wronged more people than I can count. I have a feeling that you and your idiotic brothers are living the last of your miserable days on this planet.”
Ares pulls his gun out, pointing it straight at Constantine. Constantine is just as quick, poking at my gut with his own weapon.
Ares looks like a man willing to burn the entire world to ash. “Go ahead.” He shows his teeth as he talks. “I fucking dare ye, ye daft eejit. Seriously, I need to work out all this aggression I’ve been feeling lately.”
Trust my brother to taunt the man with a gun on me just now. I step back slowly, pushing my cheek with my tongue. “That’s not why we came, Ares. We were just here to tell Constantine in person to not fucking mess with our business. Right?”
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 of 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.
It’s disgusting to watch.
I jerk my head toward Eros. “Let’s go. Grab that bawbag. I think we have a girl to hunt down.”
I slip the card into my pocket and feel the edges of my mouth curling to a smile.