River Road

by Johnson, Suzanne

  “What are you doing?” I had a fleeting fear he was so mad he’d put me out on the shoulder of the highway and make me walk home.

  “I’m going to talk and you’re going to shut up and listen.” His voice rasped with tension. “I don’t give a shit about competition from Jake, at least not as an enforcer. We need the help. With investigations like we have going on now, I can’t take off for a day to take an enforcer run. But he’s not ready.”

  Alex was so damned rigid. “Let him take a run. See how he does.” Why make everything so complicated, I wanted to add.

  I flinched as Alex slammed his hand on the roof of the car, jarring the overhead light cover. “I’m worried about him, damn it. He’s loup-garou. He’s going to have to develop iron control over his wolf or the enforcers will kill him. Do you understand that? He’s not a normal were. If he screws up, they won’t move him somewhere else and give him a new assignment. They’ll kill him. Put him down like a goddamn lame horse. He slips up one time and that’s it.”

  I shivered, noticeably enough that Alex reached over and cranked the car so the heat would cut back on. My shivers had nothing to do with the temperature. “What if you could take some runs with him, till he’s ready to do it by himself?” My voice shook. For the first time, I saw a hint of what Jake was up against and I was afraid for both of them. They might fight and argue with each other, but if Alex had to hurt Jake, he couldn’t live with it.

  Alex leaned his head against the headrest. “I’d like to do that. But we’ve got so much work of our own. I can’t take the time off right now.”

  I wanted to tell him to take the time off, that I could handle things, but as much as I wanted to prove myself to the Elders, the thought of losing Alex made me want to cry.

  “DJ, I need an honest answer about something.”

  I looked out the side window and wiped away a tear, hoping Alex didn’t see me. “Okay.”

  “Did Jake lose control with you?”

  The mental image of flat yellow eyes looking down at me flashed through my mind, the feel of his teeth on my neck, his arm pinning me so hard I couldn’t move.

  “You’re not answering, so I take that as a yes. Shit.” Alex rubbed the back of his neck. “What happened?”

  I didn’t know the right thing to do, except to be honest without being graphic. “He didn’t lose it, not completely. The wolf started slipping in and I had to zap him to get his attention—Jake’s attention.” I had the wolf’s full attention, which was the problem. “We were both a little shaken by it.”

  Alex took a deep breath. “What were you doing when this happened?”

  Good question. And making out on the sofa in his apartment would not be my answer. “Nothing really, just fooling around.”

  Alex narrowed his eyes, and I could feel him studying my face in the semi-darkness. “Okay, I’ll take fooling around to mean something a little more private than listening to Zachary Richard in a crowded room.”

  I blessed the dark as I felt my face heating up. It was probably the same shade of scarlet as my sweater. “Well, yeah, but it wasn’t like we were—”

  “Don’t tell me.” He held up his hand to cut me off. “I get the general idea. What was Jake’s reaction?”

  Haunted eyes, a fist jammed through a plaster wall, bloody knuckles. “It scared the crap out of him. He shut down and took me home.”

  Alex exhaled and leaned against the headrest again. “Good. That’s what he’s supposed to do, and he needs to be scared. Did you ever feel like you were in danger? And I want an honest answer. You won’t help him by lying to protect him.”

  “It scared me when it happened.” I’d had time to think about it, and realized that when Jake grew so still, he’d been warring with the wolf and, to some extent, holding it off. “But I don’t think he would have hurt me.” I hope to God I was right about that.

  “Good.”

  I still didn’t think we’d gotten to the heart of the problem. “You said you weren’t jealous of Jake because he was an enforcer. Is there something else going on?”

  “None of your business.” He started to pull the car back on the interstate, then stopped again, shifting it back into park. “But we are going to talk about your merman stunt.”

  Good Lord. The man was a grunting caveman half the time. Now he was channeling Oprah on the side of the I-10. “Fine. Let me have it.”

  “We’re partners. I have to know you’re not keeping shit from me. What if I hadn’t found out about the power-share with Rene, hadn’t gone out with you yesterday? Robert could have killed you, or worse—and you didn’t even have the staff. Or Rene could have gotten so out of control he drained everything you had.”

  Damn it. I knew he was right, but I had my reasons. “I just—”

  “Don’t protect me.” Alex’s voice was gruff. “Don’t make decisions for me. Don’t be afraid I’ll take off if you do something I don’t like. I’m not going anywhere. Even if I end up back on field duty at some point, I’m not leaving you.”

  My own tears caught me by surprise, and I turned away before he could see them. Everybody leaves. If I’d learned one thing in life it was that. They might die. They might betray your trust. They might stay until life got too hard or inconvenient. But in the end, the people you cared about always left.

  His hand brushed my wet cheek. I’d planned to get in his head and somehow, instead, he’d gotten in mine. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You just don’t seem to understand that this isn’t a one-sided thing with us. I don’t want to lose you either. Not because you’ve put yourself in danger protecting me or because of the shitty baggage you drag around from your screwed-up family.” He paused a heartbeat. “And not because of Jake.”

  He said that last part so softly I barely heard him. What did that mean exactly—he was afraid Jake would hurt me, or he didn’t want to lose me to Jake? It was such a startling thought that I decided to keep it to myself to gnaw on a while.

  We pulled back onto the road and drove into the city in silence. At the red light nearest my house, he finally said, “I’m the one who bought the house.”

  “What?” I’d stared out the passenger window so long I was almost in a trance. “What house?”

  “Next door to you. The shotgun. I close on it next week.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Was that good or bad? Did I want Alex for a neighbor? Was he buying that house out of feelings for me, or was I giving myself way too much credit?

  But houses were major commitments. If he was buying a house, he wasn’t going anywhere, at least not for a while. I smiled, not wanting to examine that warm, safe feeling too closely. “I’m glad.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Twenty-four hours later, I stood in the middle of my bedroom again, wrapped in a towel, surrounded by heaps of clothing and looking for something to wear on a date. Life had been much simpler when I had no social life, plus my dates weren’t exactly dinner-and-a-movie guys. One had serious control issues, one seemed to be changing the rules of our relationship and was almost scaring the crap out of me more than his werewolf cousin, and the third wasn’t even alive in any normal sense of the word.

  I couldn’t call Eugenie this time, not and lie my way through an explanation of a dinner date with an undead pirate who couldn’t even come and pick me up because cars hadn’t been invented during his lifetime. Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from stealing one.

  Whatever I wore, I had to make it snappy. I’d spent the whole day combing through everything I could find on the River Styx, looking for the elusive connection between the mers, the dead wizards, and the water breaches. The situation seemed to deteriorate hourly.

  Denis Villere had called late last night with news that a member of his family found a new breach in Plaquemines, between Buras and Port Sulphur. A lot of people lived between Buras and Port Sulphur. The media was full of what some clever reporter had deemed the “Plaquemines Plague,” the state water officials were squabbling with the Army Co
rps of Engineers over jurisdiction, and the Elders wanted it all to just go away before some smart water engineer figured out there were substances in the water that didn’t conform to any known contaminant or life-form.

  The fact that Denis had found the new rifts raised him on my suspect list, except for that little issue of motive. If the seafood in the area was impacted, it would hurt not only the Delachaise clan but the Villeres as well. So against my better judgment, I agreed to pay Denis to place the temporary charms over the new rifts until Rene and I could do a repeat of our ritual. I knew he’d be willing but I needed another day or two to recuperate. Plus, we needed to find out how the breaches were occurring and put a stop to it.

  Alex’s investigation into Doug Hebert’s and Jeff Klein’s deaths had stalled. We were still waiting on the toxicology report on Melinda Hebert, and Jake said the NOPD was bristling at FBI interference.

  I pulled the slinky black dress from the pile for consideration. It was basic mankiller stuff: short, off the shoulder, curve-hugging. I set it aside. Not the message I wanted to give a man who thought “no” was a word used to begin negotiations.

  What message did I want to give the pirate, exactly? I sighed and nudged a pile of clothes far enough to sit on the edge of the bed.

  I had a little pixie angel DJ on one shoulder telling me how bad Jean was. He’s violent and unpredictable. He hit you once—hard. Oh, sure he saved your life later but it was in his own best interests. Plus, you have absolutely no common sense where he’s concerned, and we won’t even mention the dead thing.

  I hated pixie angel DJ.

  On the other shoulder sat pixie devil DJ: He’s a preternatural being just like a werewolf and a shapeshifter, so you’re splitting fine hairs by saying he isn’t human. What’s more, the pirate is practically immortal, which means he can’t get killed on you, and he’s sexy as hell. Plus, he accepts himself for who and what he is.

  Who was I to argue with the devil? I snatched up the little black dress and slid it on with a smooth rustle of silk, enjoying the irony of wearing a mankiller dress on a date with a man who, for all intents and purposes, had already been killed. Sapphire and silver jewelry set it off, and I left my hair long and loose. I picked up my sensible black pumps and threw them in the back of my closet, instead pulling out a pair of strappy (not to mention crazy-expensive) Manolo Blahniks Eugenie egged me into buying on clearance two years ago. I’d never worn them. New Orleans isn’t a Manolo Blahnik kind of town, at least not in my social circles, where an unscuffed pair of Nikes was practically formalwear.

  I picked up the elven staff that had bailed me out of trouble with Jean Lafitte in the past. The thigh holster Alex helped me rig for it would look ridiculous with my dress. Note to self: get Alex to pick out a nice all-purpose handgun that would fit in an evening bag. If I was going to date outside my species, I needed to be armed. The fact I even considered the need for a gun on a date should have rung a few alarm bells, but tonight I’d be going weapon-less.

  On the drive to the French Quarter, I rethought the whole outfit. What if Jean wore his customary black pants and linen shirt? I’d be grossly overdressed. What if he thought my dress was too short? The guy probably liked powdered wigs and petticoats.

  Still, I was excited by the promise of an interesting evening. Whatever else Jean Lafitte might be, he was not dull, nor was he likely to dredge up emotional crap that would leave me in tears.

  I tapped on the door of the Monteleone’s Eudora Welty Suite, and when Jean answered I got an eyeful of early nineteenth-century gentleman that made me forget about being overdressed. He’d tucked fawn-colored trousers into matching soft leather boots, and a fawn vest topped a formal white shirt. A blue scarf around his neck added a dash of color, and I saw a blue waistcoat draped over a chair.

  We stared at each other. I recovered first, and laughed. “May I come in?”

  He stepped back and smiled. “You look magnificent, Jolie. More beautiful than even I realized.”

  God help me, I blushed. Again. “You look kinda hot yourself.”

  He frowned and looked down at his clothing. “But I am quite comfortable. Why would you believe I was hot?”

  I bit my lip. “Sorry, it’s just a modern term to mean that you look very handsome.”

  “Ah, trés bien.” He smiled, handed me a brandy, and pointed me toward one of the suite’s facing sofas. I sat close to the arm of the nearest one and was pleased to see he sat a respectful distance away. Good pirate. There would be no making out on this sofa.

  “Drusilla, I have chosen a special place for us to dine tonight. I reserved a table, but you must decide if you are willing to go.”

  I took a sip of brandy, which sent a sweet burn all the way to my toes, and tried to keep a pleasant expression on my face despite being able to tell he was uncertain. I’d done my emotional grounding ritual before leaving the house, but the dress was too clingy for my mojo bag to be hidden anywhere. I’d left it at home, accepting that I’d be pulling in some unwanted emotion tonight.

  Jean didn’t think I was going to like whatever he was about to tell me. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I would like to take you to Antoine’s.”

  I blinked at him. Antoine’s was culinary royalty in New Orleans. I had only eaten there once. My salary was more in the cheap corner dive range, and Antoine’s was even more expensive than Commander’s.

  “Well, of course. I’d love to go to Antoine’s.” I hoped he didn’t try to pay for dinner with gold doubloons. If he did, I could always slip the waiter some plastic and pray my credit limit held.

  “Do not answer in haste, Jolie. I do not refer to the modern restaurant, but the original. Antoine Alciatore himself will be preparing our meal.” Jean looked pleased with himself. “Of course, you must accompany me into the Beyond for the evening.”

  I set my brandy snifter calmly on the coffee table but gave away my alarm by crossing my arms tightly. I wasn’t sure if it was to keep from wringing my hands or throttling him. “I don’t think that’s such a good … No freaking way. Not just no, but hell no.” The only time I’d gone over the border into the Beyond, I’d barely made it back alive.

  Jean tsk-tsked me. “Such language you modern women use.”

  Yeah, like pirate wenches didn’t curse. I’ve read those novels.

  “I know your only other venture into the Beyond did not go very well,” he said in the world’s biggest understatement. “But we are not going to Old Orleans, where things are so treacherous, but back in time itself.”

  I tried to be calm and practical. “Jean, my magic doesn’t work in the Beyond, or at least not very well.” The elven staff worked just fine but it was lying on my bed at home.

  “You are not going to fight tonight, Drusilla. We are going to have a fine meal prepared by Antoine himself, and then we will come back here and take a walk beside the river. You have seen only the bad side of the Beyond. All is not evil there as long as one knows where to go.”

  I felt my resolve weaken. I hadn’t known you could do things like have dinner at the original Antoine’s in a past version of New Orleans, but I suppose the legendary restauranteur, much like Jean himself, was immortalized by memory.

  And why not go? If nymphs and mers could live in the modern era, why shouldn’t a wizard be able to cross the other way for dinner?

  Jean watched my thought processes with a bemused expression. “I can tell you are beginning to think this is a good idea, oui?”

  I looked down at my mankiller dress and Manolo Blahniks and shook my head. “I left my bustle and corset at home. I think if I walked into a nineteenth-century restaurant like this I’d be arrested for indecent exposure.”

  “Exposed, but not so indecent, non,” Jean said in a soft voice, giving me a look that made me blush again.

  What had I been thinking, wearing my mankiller dress? I needed a therapist, and wondered if the Elders had a wizard Dr. Phil who could cure me of my pirate obsession and imp
ulsive decision-making.

  Jean interrupted my moment of horrified clarity. “There are others from elsewhere in the Beyond who go there to dine. You will not feel out of place.”

  I knew there were a baker’s-dozen good reasons not to go, but I found myself smiling back at the blue-eyed blackguard, and he knew he’d won. He might as well have rolled a ride in a stolen cherry-red Corvette into the deal just to make my stupidity complete.

  We strolled from the hotel to Jackson Square, then crossed over to the small gardens behind St. Louis Cathedral. With his custom-fitted suit and confident stride, Jean attracted double-takes from quite a few of the tourists strolling through the Quarter. The locals are far too jaded to find anything worthy of a second look.

  St. Anthony’s Garden, behind the cathedral, was one of several permanent transports the Elders had established between modern New Orleans and the Beyond. Last time I’d been here, the transport had still been temporary. I’d been half-battered and on the arm of Jean’s pirate half-brother Dominique You. He was remembered enough by pirate fans and scholars to have a life in the Beyond, but not enough to sustain him in the modern world for very long at a time.

  “Uh, we won’t be running into Dom tonight by any chance, will we?” The pirate disliked me because he thought I was a bad influence on Jean. Imagine.

  Jean shook his head. “I do not believe so. He spends most of his time in Old Barataria.”

  No tourists were in sight, so we stepped into the interlocking circle and triangle that had been formed to look like a rock garden and permanently inlaid with magic for transport into the Beyond. Tiny green crystals glittered throughout the rocks, dancing under the streetlights like twinkling stars underfoot. The magic-infused crystals would temporarily seal the transport closed if a human accidentally wandered onto the rocks. Couldn’t have the mayor of New Orleans falling into Old Storyville. He had enough problems with his constantly squabbling city and his scandal-riddled administration.