lonesome.”
Magnifique.
Remy fully expected to spend an hour or so waiting. This was better. Lifting her hand to his lips, he brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “
Merci, ma ch
è
rie
.” He released his hold on the money and slipped off the stool with the glass in hand.
Dodging bodies and desperation, Remy sent the text to Vic, pocketing his cell as he sidled up next to the sofa. He pretended to stumble and sloshed the Jack over Eddy’s crotch.
Eddy bolted to his feet. “Damn drunk! You ruined my pants!”
The dancers paused and backed away a few steps, wary expressions on their faces.
Remy weaved between Eddy and the women and laid a hand on Eddy’s shoulder. “Sorry ’bout dat,
cher
.” He glanced drunkenly at his empty glass. “Shhh . . . ”
Eddy grabbed Remy’s collar and propelled him away from the couch. “Get your coon ass outta here.”
Clamping down on the man’s wrist, Remy jerked the hand from his collar and twisted until Eddy’s arm bent behind his back, and the jerk doubled over.
“Hey-hey-hey, easy.”
Scanning the room for any unwanted assistance for Eddy, Remy leaned close to Eddy’s ear. “Listen closely,
chien
. You and me are going to step outside and have a li’l
tête-a-tête
.”
“If I refuse?” A flick of his wrist and Eddy squelched a screech. “All right.”
Only a fool would let off pressure on his enemy’s arm, but Remy wanted Eddy to believe he was exactly that. He released the man, and waited for Eddy to straighten and then throw the first punch. Remy blocked the jab to his face with his arm then slammed his elbow into Eddy’s face.
The dancers squealed and hustled off. Remy cuffed Eddy’s collar, doffed a mock salute to the female bartender, and drove Eddy across the strip bar floor, down the steps, and exited onto the street. Propelling him forward, Remy released his hold on Eddy, who tripped and fell in front of a meandering couple. Startled, they hopped back when he sprawled onto his back. Remy sauntered forward, waving off the couple and anyone else who happened to pause with a: “He’s had too much to drink.”
Eddy rolled onto his backside and squinted at Remy. “Who are you?”
Towering over him, Remy reached down, clutched Eddy’s shirt and hauled him onto his feet. He jerked the sleazebag closer and leered into his face. “Your worst nightmare come true.”
People continued past, unfazed by their confrontation. Such a normal occurrence on Bourbon Street.
Eddy’s dilated eyes gradually widened. “Son of a bitch.”
Now that he had Eddy’s attention, Remy dragged him into the alley where Vic stood guard. Once past the gate, Vic followed them in, closing it. She remained at the exit to keep watch.
Eddy stammered protests until Remy slammed him face first into the stone wall and pressed the barrel of the Ruger against the back of the man’s head. “You’re supposed to be dead,” he whined.
“That’s what they say.”
“You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead.” Eddy’s body shook.
“Gonna wet yourself,
chien
?”
Chest rising and falling in rapid succession, he gave a slight shake of his head. “What do you want?”
Remy looked at Vic and put his mouth next to Eddy’s ear. “I want Savard.”
“I haven’t seen him in months.”
Trailing the Ruger barrel down Eddy’s head to the back of his neck, Remy pressed the warmed steel between the folds of flesh. “Why do I get the feeling you’re lying to me?”
“I swear.”
Vic jerked to attention at something behind her. She peered through the slats then tilted her chin.
He hauled Eddy away from the wall and dragged him further into the alley. Halfway Eddy found his nerve and swung back his elbow. The sharp edge caught Remy in the chin and he stumbled back. Eddy spun and kicked out.
Thrusting his hands down, Remy stopped the kick, throwing Eddy off-balance. He snapped upright, his left fist plowing into Eddy’s gut. Bent over, Remy drove the butt of his Ruger
Magnifique.
Remy fully expected to spend an hour or so waiting. This was better. Lifting her hand to his lips, he brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “
Merci, ma ch
è
rie
.” He released his hold on the money and slipped off the stool with the glass in hand.
Dodging bodies and desperation, Remy sent the text to Vic, pocketing his cell as he sidled up next to the sofa. He pretended to stumble and sloshed the Jack over Eddy’s crotch.
Eddy bolted to his feet. “Damn drunk! You ruined my pants!”
The dancers paused and backed away a few steps, wary expressions on their faces.
Remy weaved between Eddy and the women and laid a hand on Eddy’s shoulder. “Sorry ’bout dat,
cher
.” He glanced drunkenly at his empty glass. “Shhh . . . ”
Eddy grabbed Remy’s collar and propelled him away from the couch. “Get your coon ass outta here.”
Clamping down on the man’s wrist, Remy jerked the hand from his collar and twisted until Eddy’s arm bent behind his back, and the jerk doubled over.
“Hey-hey-hey, easy.”
Scanning the room for any unwanted assistance for Eddy, Remy leaned close to Eddy’s ear. “Listen closely,
chien
. You and me are going to step outside and have a li’l
tête-a-tête
.”
“If I refuse?” A flick of his wrist and Eddy squelched a screech. “All right.”
Only a fool would let off pressure on his enemy’s arm, but Remy wanted Eddy to believe he was exactly that. He released the man, and waited for Eddy to straighten and then throw the first punch. Remy blocked the jab to his face with his arm then slammed his elbow into Eddy’s face.
The dancers squealed and hustled off. Remy cuffed Eddy’s collar, doffed a mock salute to the female bartender, and drove Eddy across the strip bar floor, down the steps, and exited onto the street. Propelling him forward, Remy released his hold on Eddy, who tripped and fell in front of a meandering couple. Startled, they hopped back when he sprawled onto his back. Remy sauntered forward, waving off the couple and anyone else who happened to pause with a: “He’s had too much to drink.”
Eddy rolled onto his backside and squinted at Remy. “Who are you?”
Towering over him, Remy reached down, clutched Eddy’s shirt and hauled him onto his feet. He jerked the sleazebag closer and leered into his face. “Your worst nightmare come true.”
People continued past, unfazed by their confrontation. Such a normal occurrence on Bourbon Street.
Eddy’s dilated eyes gradually widened. “Son of a bitch.”
Now that he had Eddy’s attention, Remy dragged him into the alley where Vic stood guard. Once past the gate, Vic followed them in, closing it. She remained at the exit to keep watch.
Eddy stammered protests until Remy slammed him face first into the stone wall and pressed the barrel of the Ruger against the back of the man’s head. “You’re supposed to be dead,” he whined.
“That’s what they say.”
“You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead.” Eddy’s body shook.
“Gonna wet yourself,
chien
?”
Chest rising and falling in rapid succession, he gave a slight shake of his head. “What do you want?”
Remy looked at Vic and put his mouth next to Eddy’s ear. “I want Savard.”
“I haven’t seen him in months.”
Trailing the Ruger barrel down Eddy’s head to the back of his neck, Remy pressed the warmed steel between the folds of flesh. “Why do I get the feeling you’re lying to me?”
“I swear.”
Vic jerked to attention at something behind her. She peered through the slats then tilted her chin.
He hauled Eddy away from the wall and dragged him further into the alley. Halfway Eddy found his nerve and swung back his elbow. The sharp edge caught Remy in the chin and he stumbled back. Eddy spun and kicked out.
Thrusting his hands down, Remy stopped the kick, throwing Eddy off-balance. He snapped upright, his left fist plowing into Eddy’s gut. Bent over, Remy drove the butt of his Ruger
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