Page 69 of Xavier

“Yeah, I know,” Nub said.

They exchanged knowing glances—one criminal to another.

“I heard you were attacked that night,” Nub said, his brow creased. “I’m sorry. I’ve felt real sick about what I did. I’m glad you’re all right.”

Lissette nodded. “They’ve tried twice to grab me.”

“They won’t give up easily,” Nub said.

“Make it up to me, Nub.” Lissette stepped closer. “Tell me everything you know about them and why they want me.”

Nub glanced at his broken finger for a long moment. Then he frowned, his jaw tightened and he looked up. “I’ll tell you. I don’t give a rat’s ass about this place. The hurricane will likely level it. Besides, it floods so often, it’s a pain in the ass to move things in and out between floods. I’ll tell you everything I know. I’m tired of them pulling my strings.”

He drew in a deep breath. “The two men who came and threatened me were Ron Cormier and Len Sweeney. They’re paid muscle. The man payin’ them is Étienne Benoit.”

“A relative of Vincent Benoit?” Lissette asked.

Nub nodded. “His grandson.”

“My testimony put his grandfather in jail,” Lissette said.

“That’s right. It was mighty fine of him to commit suicide in the slammer,” Nub said. “There was a lot of infighting, but Étienne ended on top, claiming he’d inherited the New Orleans mafia.”

“Is Étienne behind the thefts of the reliquaries?” Lissette asked.

Nub nodded. “He is.”

Lissette shook her head. “Is he selling them? I can’t imagine they bring in enough money to warrant the thefts. Surely his drug running is way more lucrative.”

“Actually, he’s keeping what’s inside them and selling the boxes. I’ve moved three of them so far.” He snorted. “Stupidest job I’ve ever done. You’re right, they don’t bring much money. I hand them off to a woman who runs a nonprofit with clean paperwork.”

“What woman?” Xavier asked.

Nub shook his head. “Don’t know her name, just saw some initials on her manifest—PHT.”

Xavier met Lissette’s gaze. “That was on one of the invoices the antique dealer had who ended up with the three reliquary boxes. All empty. Hopefully, my team has found who owns the company by now. Do you know anything else that will help us nail the bastard?”

“Benoit has a camp compound deep in the bayou. He’s been working out of the camp. Whatever he’s doing, he’ll want to get it done before the surge. The camp will flood in the surge. That’s it. That’s all I know.”

Lissette gave the man a hint of a smile. “Thanks, Nub. Good luck getting out on time. We’ll keep what you’ve told us to ourselves.”

“Thanks.” He held up his injured hand. “I’d like to keep the rest of them.”

Lissette and Xavier returned to the skiff.

“To my grandmother’s?” she asked.

Xavier nodded. “As soon as I get some reception, I’ll check in with the team.” He held his cell phone out as they headed back toward the marina. When he finally had enough reception, he called headquarters at the boat factory and pressed the device to his ear.

“Xander,” Remy’s voice sounded over the roar of the boat engine. “Just the person we were thinking about. We have information about the boxes they found at the antique store.”

“Great,” Xavier said. “We just left Nub LeJeune’s place.” He gave the information to Remy, emphasizing the need to keep the source on the down low to save the man’s remaining fingers.

“Interesting that Nub mentioned PHT and a female he passed those boxes to. Swede learned that PHT stands for Prejean Heritage Trust, a respected nonprofit based in Thibodaux; the director is a woman named Odette Prejean.”

Xavier looked over his shoulder toward Lissette and called out loud enough to be heard over the engine, “Odette Prejean ring a bell?”

She shook her head and kept the skiff moving.