meant my house near Tulane, or my bedroom at Callum’s mansion where there would always be a warm meal on the table and a cold beer in the fridge. I missed those things, as though I would never have them again.
Cash didn’t seem appeased by my excuse, but he didn’t argue about it any further. I suspected that would wait for later. It was a safe bet there would be more than one thing he’d want to yell about when this ordeal was said and done. Some stuff he’d be justified to be angry with me for, and I’d let him be mad about those. But there were other things—Wilder-related things—that I knew he was mad about whether I deserved it or not.
Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, right?
Trust will only go so far when you run off with another man. I got it, but I didn’t need to like it.
“What did you guys do in New Orleans that might factor in here? Did you rob any banks I should know about?”
My headache was coming back, and this time it had nothing to do with magic. “We struck a bargain with Cain at The Dungeon.”
If Cash or Matt had been part of the supernatural community, this statement would have been enough, but they both gave me a look that said and…?
“Wait, are you talking about Beau Cain?” Matt asked.
“Yes.”
He scratched his head thoughtfully. “Huh. I thought that guy was a myth. Like a modern Al Capone for the supernatural set.”
“You know Al Capone was real, right?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. His name comes up in all sorts of cases all across the board. You name it, I’ve heard Beau Cain’s name mentioned.”
“He gets around,” I agreed.
“I can’t believe he’s real,” Matt said again, awed.
“He’s real,” Wilder said. “And Genie and I struck something of a devil’s bargain with him. Before we knew what was happening out here, that is.”
“What kind of bargain?” Cash pulled his chair closer. In spite of the fact Wilder was the one speaking, Cash was staring at me.
“We agreed we wouldn’t kill Timothy Deerling.”
“I do not want to hear any more about this.” Matt got up and patted his pockets until he located a pack of cigarettes. “I’m not on retainer to either of you, so if you’re going to talk about anything illegal, I need to go outside.”
Before I could offer to pay him for his services he was already through the door. He paced back and forth in front of the window, dragging huge puffs off his smoke, muttering to himself all the while.
“Go ahead,” Cash urged.
“Cain knew tensions might run high. Sometimes the way pack justice is served isn’t… Well, it might be frowned on if people knew about it. But that’s neither here nor there, because I gave him my word neither Wilder or I would kill Deerling.”
“What did you say you’d do with him?”
“I said we’d bring him back to New Orleans. Let Cain sort him out.”
I sat back in my chair and met Cash’s stare, challenging him with my own expression to say something.
Cash mirrored my gesture, his warm brown eyes showing how exhausted he was. Not just with this situation, but I think with me too. I had tried so hard for so long to be his perfect woman. Now he saw what a mess my life really was, and I didn’t know if he was too keen on the relationship he’d signed up for with me.
The look in his eyes was sad enough to make my heart hurt because there was nothing I could do to fix it. I’d pretended to be normal, but I wasn’t. This was my world. It was dark, it was bloody, and no one wished their way into it. But still, it was all I knew.
He was raised in a family where his biggest concern had been what law schools he’d be accepted to and whether or not he’d try to become a judge like his mother or go into politics like his father.
I guess I was debating my own political career now.
“So…” He left the sentence to trail off unfinished.
“So,” I agreed.
“Let Matt and me worry about Hank.” He got up and went to find the papers Matt had been poring over. “If you and Wilder are planning to do something to Deerling, I don’t want to know what it is. Confidentiality doesn’t extend to future crimes.”
Wilder and I exchanged uncertain glances.
Bringing in the