Showdown in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #3)(13)

Twenty minutes later, she peeked through her shop blinds, scanning the street for Detective Blanchard’s unmarked police car. Clear. Thank God. She left her shop and drove to a corner bar on a seedy side of town. Unlike most bars, this one was always open and always had clientele. It tended to cater to people who didn’t keep regular business hours—drug dealers, hookers, petty thieves, and not-so-petty thieves—just the kind of people she was looking to see.

She was certain she made quite a picture walking down the sidewalk to the bar. The whistles and catcalls confirmed her choice of the short, tight, black leather skirt and blue sparkly top with a plunging neckline. Her six-inch stilettos put her right at six foot two, and the platinum wig put the finishing touches on the entire getup.

Satisfied that she looked like any other working girl, she opened the door and walked into the bar. The man she was looking for was sitting at the counter and he gave her a mental undressing as she walked in. She gave him the ole come-hither smile and walked to the back of the empty bar, shaking her hips as she strolled. She slid into a high-backed booth in the corner and waited for her prey to take the bait.

It didn’t take long.

Spider, as he was called by the Hebert family, was predictable, if anything. And creepy, hence the nickname. A minute later—just enough time for her to slide her 9-millimeter from her handbag—he rounded the corner and peeked into her booth. Raissa was ready.

She reached up with one hand and pulled him into the booth by his hair. Spider screeched a bit but then leered over at her. “You like to play rough, do you? I can get into that.”

Under the table, Raissa shoved her weapon into Spider’s crotch. “Rough is my favorite,” she whispered, “but I don’t think we’re talking about the same thing.”

Spider’s eyes widened with shock or fright, or both. He had always been a coward. “Wha—what do you want? I ain’t done nothing to you.”

“I want information, Spider,” Raissa said in her normal voice and had the pleasure of watching the blood drain from the man’s face.

“Taylor?” The man stared at her. “No f*cking way. You’re supposed to be dead. They told me you was dead.”

“I’m sure they did, and likely things would be much more con ve nient if that were true, especially for you. But I’m sorry to tell you that I’m very much alive and still have a bullet scar on my chest from your nine.” She pressed the gun a bit harder into his crotch. “I owe you, you know.”

“C’mon now,” Spider begged, sweat forming on his brow. “We can work something out. What do you need? ID, passport? I can get you a new life.”

Raissa laughed. “You think I’ve been walking around for the last nine years as Taylor Lane? I had a new identity the moment I got released from the hospital.” She smiled at him. “We’re going to work something out, though. I want information.”

“What kind of information?”

“Where can I find Monk?”

Spider swallowed. “Ain’t nobody seen Monk in at least six months.”

“Bullshit.” Maurice Marsella, aka Monk, was Sonny’s right hand. “Is he in the joint?”

“No. I swear, ain’t nobody seen him. I pay Lenny now. He said I wasn’t gonna ask no questions about the change, and I ain’t gonna.”

“You must have heard something.” She pressed the gun harder against his jeans until he flinched. “What’s the word on the street?”

Spider leaned in and whispered. “You gotta promise you won’t say this came from me.”

“I’m hardly going to pay Sonny a visit. I think your secret is safe with me.”

Spider looked around the empty bar, then back at Raissa. “Word is that Sonny had him offed, that Monk’s at the bottom of the Mississippi.”

Raissa frowned. This didn’t fit into her suspicions at all. “You’re sure?”

“All I know is, Lenny’s taken over all of Monk’s territory. Ain’t nobody seen Monk in half a year, and ain’t no one mentions his name in front of Sonny.”

“So who’s got his stuff—you know, from his house?”

Spider shrugged. “Sonny, I guess. What didn’t burn. Whole place went up in flames…well, I guess it’s been about six months ago.”

Raissa looked Spider directly in the eyes. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”

“Hell, no. I ain’t heard exactly what happened to Monk, and I ain’t likely to. Nothing to lie about.” Spider licked his lips and glanced over at the entrance to the bar. “Does Sonny know you’re back?”

Raissa nodded.

Spider let out his breath in a whoosh. “Thank God. I mean, I wouldn’t want to be the one carrying that news. As far as I’m concerned, I never seen you, okay?”

“Not exactly. I still have enough on you to put you away for a long time. I can pull that evidence out if I want to.”

“What do you want from me? I already told you I didn’t know nothin’.”

Raissa reached into her bra with her free hand and pulled out a card with her cell number on it. She handed it to Spider. “You don’t know anything yet. But if you hear anything at all about Monk or that little girl that’s missing, you’ll call me. Right?”