2

I shuddered at the idea that Nic expected me to be anywhere near Ben’s league when it came refurbishing or recreating a business venture. He’d done incredible things with Leia’s family bar in Baton Rouge. I couldn’t possibly hope to follow his star act, but I needed this to work out.

As I followed slightly behind Kyle, his footsteps so silent he could have been a ghost or a ninja of some sort, I glanced around me. New Orleans smelled different than Baton Rouge, and now this was my home.

I could do this, though. I’d learn everything I could about the business and the role Nic needed me to fill for him. I’d give him a properly ordered New Orleans with people who respected his rule and reign.

I owed him that much.

Kyle led me to a car, and I raised an eyebrow.

“No bike?”

The corner of Kyle’s lip curled, “You want to ride behind me and wrap your arms around my waist while we go around the corners? No, dude.”

I chuckled. “Good point.”

I got into the passenger seat, and soon we were driving away from the airport. The only thing I’d brought was a small suitcase so I had some clothes with me, but honestly, I’d buy whatever else I needed.

“Nic put you close to The Neutral Zone.”

The Neutral Zone. Damn. If we were trying to remove the Ricards from the place, was I supposed to rename the bar right away? I mean, it did what it said on the sign, right? Vampires from all over could discuss business there without fear of attack… but it also held memories of Francois and Émile, and those were the kinds of memories I needed to eradicate from the minds of the locals.

Plus, had it ever really been neutral? There was no way to know. Had Francois been working his own little agenda like a giant puppet master from the second floor of the bar this entire time?

Maybe I did need to come up with a new name. A new name that would exude power and order. And be one hundred percent Dupont.

I shuffled the thought to tomorrow’s to-do list. I didn’t need to make any big decisions tonight, and it was probably wise to observe the lay of the New Orleans land first, making sure I understood what had been happening and what needed to happen to make this transition successful. I didn’t want to make any fast decisions I might come to regret.

I also didn’t need to give Nic reason to doubt that I had this under control. Not on day fucking zero, anyway.

After a mostly silent ride, Kyle swung the car toward a closed gate. He flipped down his sun visor and pressed a button on a small device clipped to it, and the gates swung open before he pulled forward into a parking space big enough for two cars. Kyle’s bike seemed to be taking up the rest of the space, though, parked at its usual obnoxious angle. He gave it a wide birth, cutting the engine as a security light came on and bathed the entire area in harsh illumination.

I blinked. “Trying to blind people?”

He cut me a quick glance. “Only if they’re where they’re not supposed to be.”

I nodded. That made sense because no one should be back here but me or one of Nic’s other guys. I swept my gaze up the side of the house. I’d expected something small—a hole in the wall—but this was…almost palatial. “What was Nic thinking?” I murmured.

Kyle shrugged, the movement visible in my peripheral vision. “That he’s the king?”

I nodded. Well, yeah. That made sense too.

The house was huge. It had a painted red exterior, and there was a balcony on the second story at the front, the pretty filigree wrought iron almost framing the upper floor-to-ceiling windows.

And although the house was narrow, it stretched a long way back, and a bridge from the second story led over a courtyard just visible through a second, decorative gate—more wrought iron.

“Where does that go?” I pointed to the bridge, a feature I hadn’t expected to see.

“Guest rooms.” Kyle’s reply was nearly lost as he opened his door and climbed from the car. He popped the trunk and lifted out my small suitcase as I joined him.

Warm, damp air surrounded me, pressing against my skin like an overenthusiastic hug.

“The Neutral Zone is just down there.” He indicated back out of the gate before I returned my scrutiny to the house.

It stood alone, the largest on the street, although it was nothing like the home Francois and his father had shared on the very outskirts of the city during their reign here.

The mere thought of them sent the whisper of a shiver straight down my spine, and I gave in to the answering shudder as I took my case from Kyle.

“Someone step on your grave?” For the first time in a long time, Kyle lifted an amused eyebrow.

I grinned in response. “Something like that, although I don’t intend to make New Orleans my grave.”

His answering silence was almost ominous as he walked toward the house. Behind us, the gate rolled shut, obliterating the view of the street, and caging us in, the filigree decoration much denser and more secure on the outer gate, like it was a prettiness designed to give only the air of frivolity when it was actually all business.

“Okay,” Kyle said as he stepped into the kitchen of the house. Everywhere smelled of fresh paint. “Nic had it decorated for you, and the furnishings are new. I’ve got some crap in one of the guestrooms, but you can choose where you sleep. I suggest the main house. There’s a big master wing if you turn left at the top of the stairs.”

If I knew Kyle, he only had the barest of essentials with him, and he would have chosen the most basic room. I glanced around, missing my home in Baton Rouge. Hell, I missed Nic’s home in Baton Rouge, his club La Petite Mort, and I even missed the damn cell where Nic had taken me before he gave me this reprieve.

Homesickness gnawed a small pit in my stomach, but then a loud jangling echoed through the home.

“What the hell was that?”