Page 325 of The First Taste

I nod. “Kill everyone that isn’t dead from the bombs we have planted in the shipping containers.”

A second later, there is a blast so loud that it rocks the whole entire building we are in. Everything seems to skitter to the side.

Silence reigns for a count of three.

Then car alarms start going off, people start screaming, babies start crying. Walking toward the room’s exit into the street, I can already smell the tinge of acridity of the smoke.

It’s definitely time to go. I wave to my brothers, motioning them forward. Sirens wail distantly as we step outside. The air is full of sooty smoke that smells heavily of chemicals. A young boy calls for someone as he stands in the middle of the street, disoriented.

It will only be a few minutes before this place is crawling with government agents. Ares tugs at my elbow and jerks his head. I nod at him as he slinks off, pulling a kufiyah over his head and covering his face.

In all the chaos, I feel my satellite phone vibrating in my pocket. I have absolutely no doubt that the Ukrainian nationalists that are my would-be clients are now calling me, wondering what went wrong. They probably would be surprised to hear the sounds of the melee as Eros and I slip through the crowded streets, tucking our red and white patterned headscarves on as well.

Soon, Eros waves me into the backseat of a black Mercedes sedan. I sit down and Eros slides in beside me. When he closes the door with a thunk, the sound outside is instantly muted.

“Go,” Eros tells the driver. The sedan pulls away from the curb, driving us away from the smoking, noisy mess that we have just created.

“Fucking forger,” Eros says, watching out the window as the city passes by. “Did ye hear the guy say that that’s how he knew that the papers were fake?”

I press my fingers into my temple, where a low throb has only just begun. “He also mentioned Constantine.”

“Fuckingsleekitbastard. He’s not the only other person…” He licks his lips, darting a look at the driver. He disguises his next words, but I know the meaning all too well. “Person who does what we do. But that motherfucker is everywhere recently. He’s messed with at least three other deals in the past year.”

I ignore the vibration of my sat phone and crack my neck. “He’s going to have to be taken care of.”

Eros steals a sideways glance at me. “Ye know that Ares has been chomping at the bit. All ye have to do is say the word. Hell, even think it.”

I draw my hand in a line across my throat. “Ares is bloodthirsty.”

“Yeah, well. Every family has to have their rabid dog. Yer the cautious one. Always thinking things through, planning and making backups for when that plan fails. And I’m the clever one.”

“Turn on the air conditioning,” I say to the driver. I don’t know if he speaks English or not, but he stares at me in his rearview mirror for a moment and then flicks the air on.

I lick my top lip, tasting sweat. “Is that how ye see us?”

Eros shrugs a shoulder. “It’s the truth. I’m the smartest one of the three of us. Yer the most decisive. And Ares… well, Ares is always spoiling for a fight.”

“Hm.” I look out the window, a frown on my face.

“Yer phone is ringing,” Eros points out.

“I know.” My face tightens. “This cannae happen again. We have to figure out a plan for dealing with Constantine.” I narrow my eyes, absentmindedly reaching in my sleeve to stroke a scar that peeks out. “We need a whole new crew. And for god’s sake, a better fucking…” I pause, looking at the driver for a second. “Document artist.”

He nods, his expression unreadable. I look away then, wondering how I’m going to kill Henri Constantine and burn his fucking empire to the ground.

Persephone

Ahundred and fifteen dollars.

I count out the bills, mostly in ones. They are bent and folded every which way. So smoothing them out on the side of a table is an absolute must if I hope anyone will accept them as legal tender later. I flex my right hand a few times, grimacing.

My right hand is slower to open and close than it should be. It’s a partially healed over wound from a different time in my life.

Constantine’s last gift.

One that will stay with me forever.

The music throbs, growing more frenetic as the door is opened. I turn to find my shift manager Mike closing the door to the dressing room behind him.