Trail of Dead (Scarlett Bernard #2)(29)
“I agree,” said Jesse, to my surprise. I felt a flush of gratitude that he was taking me seriously. But then he added, “Scarlett shouldn’t be alone, though, if for no other reason than to trap Olivia when she does decide to come for her.”
“Yes, of course,” Dashiell said smoothly. He gave Jesse a cool smile. “Someone will need to either kill Olivia or keep her still until I can arrive.”
Jesse looked perturbed, but didn’t comment, and I felt like I’d missed a chunk of the conversation. Dashiell seemed to be daring him to argue, while the rest of us glanced back and forth between the two of them in bewilderment. Finally Dashiell continued, “It’s settled then. For the immediate future, Eli will handle all cleanup problems, except any future crime scenes that relate to Olivia. Detective Cruz will stay with Scarlett for the time being. When you need time away, call one of us at this table to be with her instead.” He looked around as he spoke, making eye contact with each of us in turn. “Do not trust anyone else with Scarlett’s life. We don’t know who else Olivia may have gotten to.”
Everyone but Jesse and I simply accepted this pronouncement and began gathering their belongings to leave. Jesse looked confused, his eyebrows knitted in a classic wait, what just happened expression, and I sat there sputtering. Dashiell is the cardinal vampire in Los Angeles, but I was a person, not a pet kitten that had to be kept inside while there was a coyote running loose in the city. This wasn’t three months earlier, when I had temporarily lost my radius of protection. Olivia—or the witch who was helping her—couldn’t lay a fang or a spell anywhere near me now. In some ways, I was better equipped to handle Olivia than any one of them.
I was just mounting a really reasonable and articulate argument along those lines—really, I promise, it was inspiring—when Eli, who had been watching me flail for words, spoke up to stab me in the back. “It’s for the best, Scar,” he said woodenly, not exactly meeting my eyes. “You’ll be safe with Jesse.” My jaw may have dropped open a touch. After everything we’d talked about the night before, after I’d let him sleep in my bed sober, he was going all white knight on me? Hell, he was pushing me toward Jesse?
Bullshit.
Chapter 11
As Jesse and I approached the car, he helpfully distracted me by humming the theme song from The Bodyguard.
I wanted to smack him, but I settled for a glare. “It’s not funny, Jesse. What the hell just happened in there?”
We were still in Dashiell’s makeshift parking lot, and he tilted his head to urge me to get into the car to continue this conversation. Fine. I opened the passenger door—and spotted my own gym bag sitting on the driver’s seat. I frowned. There was a yellow Post-it note stuck to the strap, secured by a couple of extra pieces of Scotch tape. Thought you might need this. Molly.
Jesse leaned forward to peer at the note in the car’s dim interior light. “How did she—”
“Dashiell,” I said shortly, pissed all over again. “He had her pack up a bag and drive it over at sunset.”
“The car was locked,” he pointed out. I just shrugged. I’d seen vampires do much stranger things. “But that means…he knew all along we would have to stick together.”
“Old World politics,” I groused. “Never surprising, yet never predictable.”
Jesse looked pensive for a moment, like he was trying to decide whether or not he had been manipulated. Finally he just shrugged at me and started the car. “It’s okay,” he said. “At least this way I can keep an eye on you. And you were going to help me with the investigation anyway, right?”
I thought for a long moment before answering. I didn’t owe Jesse anything—I’d asked around just like I’d promised, and he could no longer threaten to poke around in the Old World, since he’d basically been invited in. But Kirsten…she was another story. I thought about how her power had jumped erratically during the meeting, and how broken she’d seemed at the bar. Then I remembered her brave, trembling smile after she and Eli had taken down Jared Hess to rescue me three months earlier.
Yeah. I owed Kirsten.
“Where are we even going?” I said finally. “I’ve never been to your place.”
“My place is a shoe box with a hot plate.” He’d turned the car around and was coasting down Dashiell’s driveway. “So let’s go to my parents’ house. There’s more room, they’re out of town, and I have to let the dog out, anyway.”
I just nodded tiredly. I couldn’t believe it was only 8:00 p.m. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the stress, or just jet lag, but time was starting to fuzz together for me. Had it really been less than a day since Jesse had picked me up at the airport? And here we were again, with Jesse driving and me falling asleep against the window like it had all been a dream.
“We’re here, Scarlett,” Jesse said softly. I sat up, blinking in the unfamiliar glare of a motion-sensor security light. We were parked in the driveway of a sprawling two-story house with well-tended landscaping lining the path toward the front door. There was a string of colored lights doodling over the shrubbery, and there were so many delicate white icicle lights lining the roof that for a second I almost believed we were somewhere truly cold. Then I recognized Jesse’s parents’ house.