“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.