*Noah's POV*
The young man stares at me for a long moment. I can see the wheels turning in his alcohol-addled brain, trying to decide if I'm bluffing.
"You know what?" he finally says, swaying slightly. "Screw you. I don't care who you think you are."
I nod slowly. "Fair enough."
I scroll through my contacts until I find the number I need. Marcus Webb. Private investigator, information broker, and problem solver. The kind of man who can find out everything about someone in under an hour.
"Marcus?" I say when he answers. "I need a complete background check on someone. Young man, early twenties, currently standing in Romano's Restaurant making very poor life choices."
The punk laughs. "You're actually calling someone? This is pathetic."
I put the phone on speaker so Marcus can hear him.
"Marcus, did you catch that voice?"
"Crystal clear, boss. Already running voice recognition software. Give me his physical description."
