The Laughing Corpse by Laurell K. Hamilton Read Free Book Online Page B

over a sleeveless blue T-shirt. Sort of blatant. All he needed was a flashing neon sign that said “Bad Ass.”
    There were chalk markings on the sidewalk. Pastel crosses and unreadable diagrams. It looked like a children’s game, but it wasn’t. Some devoted fans of the Señora had chalked designs of worship in front of her house. Stubs of candles had melted to lumps around the designs. The girl on the tricycle peddled back and forth over the designs. Normal, right?
    I followed Manny over the sun-scorched lawn. The little girl on the tricycle was watching us now, small brown face unreadable.
    Manny removed his sunglasses and smiled up at the man. “ Buenos días , Antonio. It has been a long time.”
    â€œSí,” Antonio said. His voice was low and sullen. His deeply tanned arms were crossed loosely over his chest. It put his right hand right next to his gun butt.
    I used Manny’s body to shield me from sight and casually put my hands close to my own gun. The Boy Scout motto, “Always be prepared.” Or was that the Marines?
    â€œYou’ve become a strong, handsome man,” Manny said.
    â€œMy grandmother says I must let you in,” Antonio said.
    â€œShe is a wise woman,” Manny said.
    Antonio shrugged. “She is the Señora.” He peered around Manny at me. “Who is this?”
    â€œSeñorita Anita Blake.” Manny stepped back so I could move forward. I did, right hand loose on my waist like I had an attitude, but it was the closest I could stay to my gun.
    Antonio looked down at me. His dark eyes were angry, but that wasall. He didn’t have near the gaze of Harold Gaynor’s bodyguards. I smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
    He squinted at me suspiciously for a moment, then nodded. I continued to smile at him, and a slow smile spread over his face. He thought I was flirting with him. I let him think it.
    He said something in Spanish. All I could do was smile and shake my head. He spoke softly, and there was a look in his dark eyes, a curve to his mouth. I didn’t have to speak the language to know I was being propositioned. Or insulted.
    Manny’s neck was stiff, his face flushed. He said something from between clenched teeth.
    It was Antonio’s turn to flush. His hand started to go for his gun. I stepped up two steps, touching his wrist as if I didn’t know what was going on. The tension in his arm was like a wire, straining.
    I beamed up at him as I held his wrist. His eyes flicked from Manny to me, then the tension eased, but I didn’t let go of his wrist until his arm fell to his side. He raised my hand to his lips, kissing it. His mouth lingered on the back of my hand, but his eyes stayed on Manny. Angry, rage-filled.
    Antonio carried a gun, but he was an amateur. Amateurs with guns eventually get themselves killed. I wondered if Dominga Salvador knew that? She may have been a whiz at voodoo but I bet she didn’t know much about guns, and what it took to use one on a regular basis. Whatever it took, Antonio didn’t have it. He’d kill you all right. No sweat. But for the wrong reasons. Amateur’s reasons. Of course, you’ll be just as dead.
    He guided me up on the porch beside him, still holding my hand. It was my left hand. He could hold that all day. “I must check you for weapons, Manuel.”
    â€œI understand,” Manny said. He stepped up on the porch and Antonio stepped back, keeping room between them in case Manny jumped him. That left me with a clear shot of Antonio’s back. Careless; under different circumstances, deadly.
    He made Manny lean against the porch railing like a police frisk. Antonio knew what he was doing, but it was an angry search, lots ofquick jerky hand movements, as if just touching Manny’s body enraged him. A lot of hate in old Tony.
    It never occurred to him to pat me down for weapons. Tsk-tsk.
    A second man came to the screen door. He was in his