Beneath These Shadows

by Meghan March

  “JP, you want to ring these up so I can steal that woman of mine away?”

  The man wore a perfectly tailored suit. Everything about him—from his casually styled hair, tanned skin, and French-blue shirt to his heavy watch and designer shoes—screamed money.

  “Lucas, you’re early.” Yve looked down at her watch. “I’ve got seven minutes.”

  “And what makes you think I’ve suddenly developed a streak of patience?”

  Goose bumps peppered my skin at the hungry look in his eyes as he stared at Yve. JP was probably right—Yve was on the menu for lunch. If he picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and carried her out of here, I would have trouble acting surprised. It seemed at complete odds that a man in such a civilized suit could give off such a primitive vibe.

  “Give me five minutes to get Eden rung up.”

  “Do you want me to carry you out of here?”

  My eyebrows shot up as my thoughts came out of his mouth.

  “See, that’s all I want. A man who wants to carry me out of places because he can’t wait to get me alone. But noooo. Bishop has the hots for Eden instead.”

  Lucas’s attention shifted from Yve to me. “I’d apologize for being rude, but I’m not sorry I’m stealing my wife away. Good luck with the lumberjack.”

  “He’s not a lumberjack!” JP jumped instantly to Bishop’s defense as my body shook with unexpected laughter.

  “Close enough. Yve, I’m giving you five seconds to back away from the cash register before the entire block hears you scream as I carry you out.”

  He started his countdown, and Yve turned to me with a smile that told me she wasn’t all that upset about the idea of being carried out.

  “I’m so glad I got to meet you, Eden. You’ll have to come back and let me know how those dresses work out. And if you’re going to a parade tonight, make sure you let JP set you up with a fascinator. You absolutely need a fascinator.”

  Lucas finished his countdown, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her toward the back door. “And it’s time to go.”

  JP and I were both staring down the back hallway when the door shut behind them.

  “Well, that was interesting.”

  JP sighed. “That was alpha.” She spun around to look at me. “Now, let’s get you a fascinator.”

  “What exactly is a fascinator anyway?”

  “Think Princess Kate’s cute little hats that aren’t really hats. You’ve gotta have one.”

  I pictured myself in the retro dress with a cute little non-hat. Totally New Orleans.

  “Let’s see ’em.”

  I returned to the Royal Sonesta with two giant bags with the Dirty Dog logo on the side, and a smile on my face. I’d been determined to find my way back without carrying the map in my hand the entire way, and I’d only taken three wrong turns. I considered it sightseeing and was pretty pleased with myself.

  The streets were already beginning to crowd with people who were intent on getting started early on their hangovers, but no one bothered me.

  See, I can do this. No big deal.

  The Royal Sonesta lobby was bustling, and the concierge was handing out maps with the route of the next parade and a coupon for a ghost tour of the Lafayette Cemeteries by horse-drawn carriage afterward.

  Score.

  I officially had plans for the day and night. I was going to check two things off my list—watching a Mardi Gras parade without getting manhandled or lost, and then a tour of the famous cemeteries. And I was going to wear a fabulous new dress and a fascinator while I did it.

  Perfect.

  “THIS PARADE IS GOING RIGHT past Valentina’s place, so they’re throwing a party. You gotta come out and have some fun.”

  I finished cleaning my station and turned to look at Constantine Leahy. “You’re my boss. You’re supposed to tell me to get my ass back to work, not try to drag it out of here.”

  “We’re closing the shop for the rest of the day. I’ve had you and D working every night since the season kicked off so we could scoop up those tourist dollars, but you both need a fuckin’ break. Consider this your newest assignment. We aren’t taking no for an answer, and Delilah already agreed.”

  We, I assumed, had to mean Vanessa. “Your wife isn’t trying to set me up with anyone, is she? Because I’m out if that’s the case.”

  Con glared at me. “I’m not into any kind of matchmaking shit. Who the hell has time for that? Whatever Van is doing is on her, and I’ve got no clue what that might be. I just know there’s food and booze.”

  I put the last piece of my machine away and stood. “Fine. I’m in. Where am I meeting you?”

  He eyed me. “You’re coming with me. If I leave here without you, we both know you’ll never come.”

  Fucker was right, and I wasn’t getting out of this. “All right. Let’s go.”

  “Not that I give a fuck, but don’t you want to change your shirt?”

  I looked down at the black Voodoo Ink logo T-shirt and back up at Con. “Are you really fucking asking me that?”

  Con laughed. “Never mind. I’ll lock up and we’re out of here.”

  I followed him out the back door of the shop into the alley behind the building. “I can’t wait until Mardi Gras is over. Is it just me, or do these tourists get more obnoxious every year?”

  I watched a group of kids who didn’t even look old enough to drink tromp across the alley wearing their STUPID 1, STUPID 2, STUPID 3 shirts and giant neon sunglasses. Beer cups hung around their necks with their beads.

  “Every fucking year. Because they get younger, dumber, and drunker.” Con started off down the sidewalk, and I followed.

  Con pulled open the door of his sweet-as-hell Chevelle. My bike was tucked into a small half garage built into the back of the building.

  I made myself comfortable in the passenger seat and we headed toward the Garden District via the back roads to avoid the bulk of the traffic.

  “Anything I need to know about the shop?”

  After Con had stopped working there, I’d taken up the reins as the unofficial manager. Delilah hadn’t wanted anything to do with “being management,” even though she’d worked there longer than me. Even with her aversion to anything non-artistic, she picked up more slack than she let on. It was the title that gave her hives.

  “No, we’re good. Money keeps coming in, so hopefully you’re good too.”

  Con nodded. “No worries on that part.” He waited for pedestrians to get out of the road before turning another corner. “You think you might want to buy the place someday?”

  Buy the place. The words echoed through my head, and visions of sitting in my uncle’s tattoo shop in Hell’s Kitchen followed. It was where I’d learned and honed my trade. Where everything that had mattered had been centered until he’d gotten strapped for cash and made a bad decision—borrowing money from a loan shark.

  When a payment came up he couldn’t make, the loan sharks started coming around to collect with threats and heavy hands, so I’d put my knack for blackjack to work earning extra money to cover the interest. Who the fuck was I kidding? I’d counted cards, and I’d been good at it.

  Until I got too cocky and destroyed everything . . .

  “If you’re not interested, just tell me.”

  I blinked, forgetting I was supposed to be answering Con’s question. “Sorry, I was just trying to wrap my head around your question. I’ve never thought about it.”

  Con probably didn’t realize that even though my sister was here, I never considered New Orleans a permanent stop for me. I had to be ready to move at any time. It might have been ten years since that shit went down, but that didn’t mean my demons weren’t still hunting for me.

  “Think about it and let me know if you’ve got any serious interest. If not, we’ll keep doing what we’re doing.”

  Con’s words hung with me as we pulled up to a wrought-iron fence that swung open, and he parked next to his brother’s Hemi Cuda. Lord ran
Chains, the most badass pawn shop in town, with his feisty redheaded girl, Elle.

  “Damn, you got the whole crew to come out for this?”

  “You think Elle would let Lord miss it to work instead?”

  “Good point.”

  The door to the house opened and Vanessa stepped out, clearly waiting for us to show. “You coming in? Elle’s already pouring shots, so we’re all screwed.”

  “We’re coming, princess,” Con called.

  I pushed open the car door. “Guess we’re all going to be walking home.”

  TAKE A TOUR, THEY SAID. You’ll learn amazing history, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.

  Well, spoiler. They lied.

  I was standing in the middle of Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 in the dark without a single flashlight beam from my other tour companions visible.

  They couldn’t have left me here. Seriously?

  We were supposed to stay together and follow the tour guide. And I did. Until he bypassed one of the coolest-looking crypts in favor of telling a ghost story about a child who’d died on the other side of the cemetery. I’d stopped and checked out the crypt myself and lost track of time. I’d been operating with a false sense of security because of the tour, but the creepy silence surrounding me ripped it away.

  The battery in my cheap flashlight dimmed as I worked my way along the path to the entrance where the carriages should still be waiting.

  Seriously, world?

  Every tiny noise amplified in my head as I tripped down the path, whipping my head from side to side to make sure the boogeyman wasn’t going to jump out and get me.

  My I’m going to lose my shit meter was edging into the red zone, but I sucked in one deep breath after another. It’s going to be fine. I’m going to be fine. I’m not going to end up cemented inside a crypt by some psychopath.

  Shivers ghosted down my arms, and I broke into an awkward jog in my pink peep-toe pumps.

  All I have to do is get out of the cemetery and find a cab. No big deal. I can do this.

  “Who dat?” a deep voice called from somewhere behind me.

  Oh God. I’m going to die here. Reports of people being mugged or killed while in the cemetery during the day ran through my mind.

  I flicked my dying flashlight off, not wanting anyone to be able to follow my light, and ran faster.

  “You ain’t supposed to be in here after dark, girl.” The deep voice was right behind me now, and adrenaline shot through my veins.

  Run! my instincts screamed, and I sprinted for everything I was worth. The cemetery gate was up ahead, and all I needed to do was get out. The horses had to still be there. The guide had to do a count. They wouldn’t leave without me.

  Tripping over an uneven chunk of pavement, I stumbled forward, hands flailing. I caught the edge of a crypt and cement abraded my palms, but I didn’t fall. Three more steps and then freedom.

  Footsteps pounded behind me, but I reached the gate and shoved it open. Heart pounding and lungs heaving, I paused to scan both directions for the carriages, but saw nothing.

  Did I come out the wrong side?

  I darted around the corner and that’s when I heard it—the clip-clop of hooves and jangling of the harnesses. The reflective triangle on the back of the last carriage flashed under the street lights.

  No. No. No. That’s not possible.

  The orange-tinged streetlights lent an eerie glow to the empty street devoid of cabs as I jammed a hand in my hair.

  I’m such an idiot.

  A few people gathered at the next corner, but I wasn’t going to approach them and ask for help. If I were going to do that, I might as well pin a sign that read HOPELESSLY LOST TOURIST to my chest.

  No. I was going to find my way back by myself.

  My cemetery pursuer hadn’t followed, but still I hurried, walking in the same direction the carriages had taken, hoping against hope that the street lights and my no-nonsense pace would deter any unwanted attention.

  A sweet wave of relief washed over me when I saw the sign for Saint Charles Avenue up ahead.

  Thank you, universe.

  The revelers who had watched the parade earlier hadn’t all cleared out. The porches and small front yards of the houses on the street were still full of people drinking and talking and enjoying the night. Instead of fearing the crowds as I had before, I welcomed them. They meant it was less likely I’d end up cemented alive in a crypt in an empty cemetery.

  “Hey! You!” The call came as I walked by a large yard surrounded by a wrought-iron fence.

  Not talking to me, I thought as I kept my head down and continued walking.

  “Eden! Where are you going? Come party!”

  At the sound of my name, I looked up and tripped over a crack in the sidewalk.

  “Whoa, watch yourself!” Delilah hurried down the path from a beautiful house toward the fence. When she reached the gate, she unlatched it and pushed it open. “Come on. Gang’s all here. Where the hell did you come from?”

  I didn’t have a chance to answer her questions before she pulled me inside the fence and around to the side yard where there were more people gathered.

  “Bishop, did you see who I found? She was just walking down the sidewalk. That’s like serendipity or some shit.”

  Even with his back to me, I knew it was him before she said his name. Bishop’s wide shoulders tensed as he turned to face me.

  “What do you mean, just walking down the sidewalk? By yourself?” The questions were split between me and Delilah, and his tone demanded answers.

  Embarrassment stained my cheeks again. “Uh . . . I was with a group taking a tour of the cemetery at night . . . and I got separated.”

  It was impossible to miss the glower on his face with the light coming from the back of the house and the paper lanterns hanging in the trees.

  “You got separated from a tour. In a cemetery. At night.” He ground out each piece of the statement in its own separate little sentence as if I didn’t know exactly how stupid I sounded already.

  “Whoa, girl. That’s not cool. You could’ve been—”

  Bishop held up a hand. “I think we all know, D.”

  Another woman joined the circle. “Hi, I’m Valentina and this is my place. Welcome. Can I get you a drink?” She looked from me to Bishop to Delilah and then back to me.

  “No, thank you. I was just stopping to say hi because Delilah saw me walking home.”

  “Walking home? In this town? By yourself?” She shook her head. “That’s not a good idea. Let me see if I can’t scare up a ride for you.”

  “Oh, that’s not—”

  “She doesn’t need a ride,” Bishop said. “I’m taking her back.”

  “You don’t have a car, and you’ve been drinking for six hours.” This came from the woman who’d introduced herself as Valentina.

  “I’ll just call a cab. It’s fine.”

  Bishop practically growled at me. “And have them drop you off at the barriers the police have set up a couple blocks away from your hotel where you have to walk through the shit show that’s the French Quarter tonight? Do I need to remind you what happened last night?”

  Crap. I hadn’t thought about the fact that a cab couldn’t bring me right to the door. Even so, I didn’t appreciate Bishop’s tone.

  “You don’t need to throw that in my face. A cab will be plenty close. It’s fine. Just freaking fine. You don’t need to worry about me being a bother, Bishop. I don’t need you to leave your party for me. I can take care of myself.” I smiled at Valentina and Delilah. “If you could give me a number for a cab, I’ll be on my way shortly. I’m sorry to barge in.”

  Valentina returned my smile, but one eyebrow lifted. “I’ll get that cab for you. Hold on a moment.”

  When she stepped away, Delilah started talking. “Sweet dress! I love it. It reminds me of something you’d get at—”

  “Dirty Dog,” another voice finished as Yve stepped out of the shadows and into the light. “An
d it looks great on you.” She reached up. “Mind if I fix your fascinator? It’s a touch crooked.”

  Automatically, I reached up to touch the small non-hat made of silver netting, and sure enough, it was askew. Great. Check the box next to HOT MESS.

  Yve adjusted and repinned it before standing back. “Perfect.”

  “Does everyone in this town know each other?” I asked, trying to get the attention off me.

  “A few of us,” Yve said.

  “And all of us agree that you’ve got no business walking around after dark by yourself.” Bishop’s statement left no room for contradiction, but Yve tsk-tsked him anyway.

  “She’s a grown woman. She can do whatever the hell she wants.”

  Bishop mumbled something else under his breath that sounded like she needs a keeper, but Valentina returned before anyone could pounce on it.

  “Cab is on its way. It should be here in ten. Have a drink while you’re waiting. We’ve got plenty of food too. The guys haven’t managed to clear it out yet.”

  I WANTED TO PICK HER up and shake some sense into her. Maybe then Eden would realize that this city wasn’t safe for her to venture out in alone. How the fuck does someone lose their tour anyway? And in a fucking cemetery? At night? Someone was going to lose their job when I tracked down the tour company and reported that they’d left her behind. They should lose their goddamned license too. She could have ended up dead.

  At Eden’s request, Valentina got her a water, and the girls talked and introduced her to the crew. I fucked with my phone and googled night cemetery tour companies. Finally, a car honked from the curb.

  “That’ll be the cab. You sure you’re good to go alone?” Valentina asked.

  “I’m taking her.” When Valentina opened her mouth, I didn’t wait to find out if she was thanking me or protesting. “I’m not leaving it to chance that she gets there in one piece.”

  Eden crossed her arms over her chest and pushed her tits up close to the neckline of the pink-and-white dress. Does she own any clothes that don’t make me want to strip her naked and eat her for dessert?