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And part of me thought I was making a mistake. There was something off. “Donkey balls.”
Sera met my gaze. “Eli worrying for a reason?”
“I don’t know. I just . . . wanted to help him, but . . .”
“He’s fixating on Geneviève,” Eli said.
“Shit crackers.” I sighed and nodded. “First situation first. . . The dead chick back there says their kind aren’t injecting anyone. She paid me.” I motioned to the money I’d dropped on the table. I wasn’t going to leave a thick bundle of cash on the floor either.
Eli pocketed it. “I will handle this.”
“Police will come by for . . .” I gestured at the body.
Eli nodded.
I glanced over as one of the bartenders spread a sheet over the remains.
Honestly, I should’ve done that, but I wasn’t sure what to do. Being hired by the same kind of thing I killed was weird as fuck.How was Mrs. Chevalier connected? To Chaddock? Why inject people with venom?I glanced back toward the door. One weird thing at a time, or maybe the same weird thing. Either way, I needed to deal with the next dilemma on the list.
“Trestexted about another body with an injection site,” I said.
Eli glanced at Christy. He withdrew the same folded stack of cash that she had handed him from pool hustling before thedraugrarrived. He extended it to her. “Mind the bar?”
She nodded and took the cash.
Even though I knew better, I started, “I could handle it—”
“Do. Not.” Eli snapped. “You know something is peculiar here, and I accompany you for work.”
I hesitated. Texted Jesse: “Job thing came up. S and C at bar. Come to them?” I paused, sighed, and added, “Eli with me.”
“Be right there,” Jesse texted back.
I held my gun out to Sera, butt first, and said, “It’s loaded with my special bullets.”
Both of them opened bags and pulled out their own guns. Christy said, “We’re good. Keep your gun.”
* * *
I wasn’t quiteready to confront my feelings about mydraugrencounter. I was equally unable to address my feelings about Eli. And I hated to admit that Tres wasn’t the only one acting strangely. I had a nagging urge to help him, see him, rescue him. It made no sense. Why was everything so complicated? I walked to the passenger door of Eli’s car. He was there, opening it, treating me the way he always did.
When he got in, I said, “You confuse me.”
“You infuriate me,” he replied in the same tone.
I sighed as he steered us into traffic. New Orleans, like anywhere at night, had traffic that was wretched at the best of times. Almost no one walked in the dark.
“What?” I asked.
“Your guilt is unnatural.”
I stared out the window. “I know.”
“I want to help, but you push me away.”
“I cannot—"
“Willnot,” he interjected. “Youwillnot let me in. Nothing and no one is stopping you. You, Geneviève, are making this choiceforme. You decided I couldn’t handle it. My opinion doesn’t factor into the decision. Only yours.”
