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uptight to come.
    “Okay, now that that’s finished, we need to take a little turn around the Quarter.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Aren’t you
babysitting
me?” she asked, her lips curved upward into a smile that looked sweet as candy but was poison underneath. “I have some odds and ends I need to go look at. I want everything in the Christmas party to have come from the Quarter. I want to benefit local businesses, and give it authentic French Quarter flavor. That means I have some scouting to do. A list to make. And since this is your territory . . .”
    “Let’s get one thing straight. I might have to stick with you, I might be assigned to your protection. But I’m not your limo driver or your manservant.”
    “Petty details,” she said, waving a hand. “I never trouble my pretty little head with such things.” That tongue could cut glass. He’d love to have it slide over his dick, but he had a feeling it would flay him. “Doesn’t really matter since you have to stay with me.”
    “You get off on that?”
    Faint color stained her cheeks and he had to admit that
he
got off on that. Even though he’d done a lot to tone himself down since leaving the MC, the fact remained: He was a dirty bastard who liked dirty sex. But he gravitated toward women who were into the same stuff he was. A blushing beauty was a rarity. He shouldn’t find it interesting. He definitely shouldn’t think it was hot. Thawing out the ice princess wasn’t part of his goal. He had to figure this shit out so he could be on his way. If pressing her up against the wall and demanding answers could possibly get him any information, he would do that. But he had a strong suspicion that she had no idea what her family’s connection to the Deacons was.
    According to Leon, she probably didn’t even know her cousin was in the club. Unsurprising. Families like hers pruned the dead limbs off their trees judiciously.
    Not that it worked much differently in the MC.
    But whether or not Sarah knew anything, he was certain that there were people in her peripheral who did. That was why he needed to stay with her. And just in case she had some personal knowledge, he needed to be around. It was entirely possible that she knew things without realizing it. Without realizing the significance of the information she carried with her.
    Her family was clearly connected to the MC. Clearly owed the MC a debt of some kind. A rich, well-established southern family would not have accidental ties to a criminal organization. No way.
    As much as he hated to acknowledge that Ajax was right, the fucker was.
    “I don’t get off on
anything
concerning you.” Her voice was stiff, so damn prissy, each syllable was like a crystal figurine begging to be shattered.
    “Do you want to test that theory?”
    “It’s not a theory. It’s just a fact. As is the fact that you are walking with me to Royal Street now.” She lifted her chin, turning sharply on her heel and walking quickly back toward the front of the old mansion.
    “You trust the workers here?”
    She paused, turning to face him, one dark brow raised, her hand planted firmly on the pleasing curve of her hip. “No one dares cross the Delacroix.”
    “Oh, because then they’ll never work in this town again? It’s a little bit like that with the Deacons. Except if you cross us you don’t usually breathe in this town again.”
    “Scary.” She pressed on and back out into the heat. The air wrapped itself around his body like a blanket and, not for the first time, he missed the sharp, salty air of the Bay Area. New Orleans didn’t just get in your blood, it rested on your skin. It got into your lungs, strangling you. He’d barely survived the first time.
    Though if New Orleans killed him, he doubted it would be by shopping on Royal Street.
    Of course, it was possible he would be buried alive in mermaid knickknacks and hideous blue fucking dog paintings.
    New Orleans was its own culture, buried in the southern