“Good, good,” Jesse said distractedly. “Listen, I need to get Terrence Whittaker’s phone records. Just for the last week.”
There was a long, pregnant silence. “I can’t just drop everything to chase some hunch for you, Jesse,” Glory said. “I have my own work to do.”
Jesse pressed on. “I know, Glory, but it’s important. I need to know if he called a number in France, and any calls he made here in the city.”
There was a pause. “Is this coming from you or Dashiell?” she asked icily.
He swallowed. Dashiell was using Glory’s kids as leverage. Jesse would never do that . . . but at the same time, there was too much at stake to dick around with a distinction that didn’t really matter. He was working for Dashiell now, after all. “Both, I guess.”
“Then I’ll see what I can do,” Glory said shortly, and hung up the phone. Jesse stared at it, feeling about two inches tall. He already regretted lumping himself in with Dashiell. He hoped she wasn’t thinking that he was on Dashiell’s side now instead of hers.
With an acidic burn in his stomach, Jesse tried to ignore the thought that if she was, she might be right.
Chapter 40
While we waited for Jesse’s friend to call back, I sat back down on the couch, stretching both legs out on the carpet in front of me. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Jesse said uneasily, “How are you doing over there?’
I had been half dozing, but I jerked awake at his voice. “I’m okay,” I said automatically.
Jesse came over and sat down next to me, our elbows touching. His legs were stretched out next to mine. “Listen, while we’re waiting . . . I think maybe we should talk.” He turned his head to look at me, direct and frank. “About us.”
“Is this really the best time?” I said tentatively. Because I am a coward.
He gave me wry smile. “I don’t think you and I are going to get a best time.”
That was fair. When I didn’t say anything more, Jesse began, “Scarlett, listen.” I was expecting the “let’s just be friends” talk, considering the way things had been between us for the last couple of days. But to my surprise, he said firmly, “I want us to be together.”
My astonishment must have shown on my face because he added, “I know things have been weird lately. I agreed to take this position because you were hurt and you needed help. But we’ve been arguing a lot, and I know I haven’t been much use.”
“You left me,” I reminded him, the hurt like an itch in my chest. “You left me with two bodies to move by myself.”
He nodded. “And I’m sorry I left you after I promised to help. But this whole thing . . . it’s just really made me see how toxic your life is right now.”
I blinked, taken aback. “What?”
He leaned forward. “Hear me out, Scar,” he continued. “Everything you do—hiding bodies, erasing all the violence and bloodshed—it all has ripples. It affects people, and eventually that’s gonna catch up with you. I know Dashiell and those guys want to keep things quiet, and I don’t necessarily disagree. But it doesn’t have to be you.”
Blanching, I said quietly, “Someone has to do it. And I have a unique skill set. Because it’s me, there’s a lot less risk, less violence.”
Jesse waved a hand. “That doesn’t mean it’s not corrupting. I worry that every time you do this stuff, you’re giving up a piece of yourself. This isn’t good for your soul, Scarlett.”
I winced. “You might be right, Jesse,” I said, keeping my voice very calm, “but then again, it’s my soul. What makes you think you can tell me what to do with it?”
“Grow up, Scarlett,” he said, not unkindly. “You know this isn’t some misogynistic dominance thing. That’s not who I am, or who we are. I love you, and I don’t want to watch you giving up yourself.”
I shook my head. “I can’t just quit,” I said weakly. “Even if I wanted to, there are other factors . . .”
“I know Dashiell is holding your brother over your head,” he interrupted. “To keep you in line.”
That surprised me. “How did you . . .”
Jesse rolled his eyes. “I’m a trained detective, remember?”
I smiled. “Right, sorry.”
“Anyway. I know you can’t just quit without Jack getting blowback from Dashiell. But maybe we could work something out with him, or get Jack out of town. Or we could just leave—you could make a deal with the Old World somewhere else; offer your null services in exchange for getting Dashiell to back down. You said that LA wasn’t very notable in the supernatural world. There have to be a lot bigger fish than Dashiell.”
I thought about that. I do make a little money from freelance jobs doing the kind of stuff Jesse was talking about—escorting vampires to daytime meetings, guiding werewolves through stressful occasions, that kind of thing. Certainly nothing that involved throwing murdered women into furnaces. But it had never occurred to me to try to start over with that stuff somewhere else. I felt dread sloshing in the bottom of my stomach. True, I had always kind of viewed my job as a temporary thing, something I’d do out of necessity for a few years and then get out. But when I did, it wouldn’t be to jump right back into bed with the supernatural. “I don’t want to work for the Old World somewhere else,” I said quietly. “I just want a normal life, like I used to have.”
Jesse snorted, which took me by surprise again. He was just full of surprises today. “No, you don’t.”
“There you go again,” I said irritably, “telling me about my feelings.”
“You think you want normalcy,” Jesse retorted. “But you’ve been special for too long. What you want is control over your life.” He spread out his hands. “I’m saying, let’s find a way to make that happen, together.”
I stared at him. Was he expecting an answer right this second?
Did I have one?