Green-Eyed Envy (12 page)

Still, I did my best to placate Neema. After all, she really
was
paying for most of this shindig. Keeping her pleased meant that Sierra Nieves got to keep this job—which meant I got to keep my cover, and keeping my cover meant I was that much closer to finding the Cat killer and, in turn, helping my mother kick some Fury butt. I soothed Neema and her daughters as best I could. Though, really, she only had
a few
little
concerns
and
suggestions
to ensure the upcoming
nuptials
lived up to the Banoub family name. Penn had warned me she would want to get her white-gloved hands all over every aspect of the wedding plans, so I made her think she would get the final say on every teeny-tiny detail without actually promising she would.

Over the course of the schmooze fest, Neema introduced her daughters as Zahra, the groom’s mother, and Rashida, his aunt, who were charming in the extreme, although both said little in comparison to their mother. Toward the end of the impromptu chat session, Penn’s mother murmured something to
her
mother about someone waiting to speak with them. They stood to leave, though—to my surprise—Penn’s aunt stayed behind.

I arched a brow. “Is there something I can help you with, Rashida?”

She leaned back in her chair and narrowed her eyes slightly. “Come, let us drop the pretenses and speak frankly.
You’re
a Hound.” Her conspiratorial expression indicated she was conveying a high honor upon me by including me in her little club. “I’m sure you feel just as strongly as do the rest of us that this entire wedding is a disaster in waiting. We shouldn’t have to sit here and pretend otherwise.”

Hmm. This was an interesting side to Penn’s aunt I hadn’t expected to see. I decided to play along. “Oh, what a relief to find someone unafraid of cutting to the chase. I
do
have to say that in all my years of planning weddings I have seen some unlikely pairings, but this has to be the most scandalous of them all.”

Rashida’s slim golden necklace jingled with the force of her nod. “Exactly! You understand perfectly that one of those
creatures
shouldn’t be allowed to steal away one of our best and brightest bachelors. The mere thought makes me want to vomit.” Her face screwed up in a most unattractive way.

I made a polite sound of agreement and let her continue with her rant.

“The only thing I can think of is she cast some sort of spell on my nephew. He’s always been such a
good
boy who knew the proper way to perform his duties to the family. I can’t believe he would have fallen in love with one of those . . .
things
. . . willingly. Unless magic was somehow involved.” She kept raving for the next several minutes, face and demeanor growing increasingly ugly as she did. Spittle flew from her mouth, and I began fearing for my own safety. Good thing Sierra wasn’t half-Cat!

By the end, she must have realized just how ugly she sounded, because she caught hold of herself, smoothed her expression, and gave a tight smile. “You’ll have to forgive me. It’s just that I feel very passionately about this subject. And it’s such a relief to know that we have an ally in you, Miss Nieves.”

“Please, call me Sierra. And just let me know how I can help you.”

Her smile grew slightly feral. “Let’s just say that I would be
very
happy indeed if you found any way possible to discourage my nephew from actually going through with this farce of a wedding. Without appearing to do just that, of course, and all while maintaining the highest standards expected of a Banoub event.”

“And as a token of appreciation, you can expect to receive twice whatever my mother is paying you for the wedding planning alone—whether or not he actually calls it off.”

Huh. Penn’s aunt was
so
against him marrying a Cat that she would pay off the wedding planner to do her best to sabotage things. Her little tirade proved she
was
more than passionate about this subject, but was she rabid enough to take the leap from sabotage to murder (or as was more likely, murder for hire) just to scare her nephew away from Harper?

One thing was for sure. Aunt Rashida was definitely going on the suspect list.

The ironic thing about people like the Banoubs was that you didn’t actually have to outright agree to go along with their plans. As long as you didn’t voice an objection, they just assumed that of
course
you were going along with whatever they wanted. Rashida was no different. She looked at the priceless concoction of gold and diamonds encircling her wrist.
Bet that watch costs more than I make in three months.
“For now, you’ll have to excuse me. I have other matters I must attend to.”

She stood and left the room without a backward glance. I waited until the door shut behind her and let out a deep breath. I was starting to understand why Scott had such a depressingly low opinion of his Banoub relatives. Well, other than Ellie. She wasn’t quite as pretentious or obnoxious as the rest of them—not since she’d shown the exceptionally good taste of marrying my baby brother.

Speaking of Scott, I pulled out my cell from a jacket pocket and dialed his number. Not that I didn’t trust Trinity or Cass: I just wanted to pick his brain in private. After all, he
was
related to “these people.” Even if most of the time he hated to admit that.

His smooth-as-silk voice sent shivers down my spine when he answered the phone, “Hey, baby.” Gods, how
could
he do that to me with just two simple words?

I did my best not to let him hear just how much he affected me. “So, Murphy, what do you think?”

“I’m damned glad my mother got away from those people when she did.”

“I think
that
goes without saying. But as fascinating as I find your family history, I’m talking about the actual topic at hand. You know, the whole serial killer thing.”

“Well, color me biased, but I definitely think not-sogood-ole Aunt Rashida just made herself look very suspicious. Then again, I wouldn’t put
anything
past, what did you call her, Mama Hound? I’ve heard stories about her over the years that would turn your hair gray.”

I reached a hand up to my hair even though he couldn’t see the gesture. “Furies don’t
get
gray hair,” I mock groused. “Not unless they want to.”

Amusement laced his voice. “Well, how in the hell am I supposed to grow ‘old and gray’ with you if you don’t let your hair go gray?”

Earlier lust-fueled heat turned to gooey, sappy warmth that went straight to my belly. Just when I thought he couldn’t get to me any more than he already had, Scott went and proved me wrong. For now, however, I let that sentiment slide by without comment. First we had to get through this investigation.
Then
we could start thinking more seriously about the future. Well, after we dealt with his pretentious relatives, my injured knee and budding addiction, and my own family issues . . .

“Focus, Murphy!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I think we should at least consider both of them, Rashida in particular. That was some hate fest she went on just now.”

A very good point, and the conclusion I’d already reached, though it felt good to hear him echo it since he (theoretically) knew these people better than I did. “All right, so we’ll add them both to the list. For now, I guess it’s back out into the fray for me.” I ended the call and crossed the room. My hand had barely closed around the doorknob when the door came flying my way. Fury instincts kicked into overdrive, and I managed to avoid a painful collision with solid oak.

Whoa. Speaking of lust spearing straight to the belly . . . five feet eight inches of sheer animal magnetism had just crossed my path. And whereas Harper’s lecherous uncles had been Don Juan wannabes, the man himself now stood in front of me in all his glory. Thick, wavy black hair fell down his shoulders and made me want to run my fingers through it. His dark brown eyes reminded me of my favorite chocolate. His burnished skin was so smooth it could have made Scott envious. And that voice! It dripped with the faintest hint of a Spanish-flavored accent and hinted at all sorts of naughty things. He may not have been overly tall or muscular, but da-aaa-mn.

Though I could have done without the leather-stitched man bag over his shoulder.

No sooner did that thought cross my mind than I put two and two together. Gorgeous good looks, impeccable fashion sense, a hairstyle that looked too perfect to be mere happenstance, and the man bag. This could only be Vic the Slick.

My brilliant deduction was confirmed when Scott muttered in my ear, “For crying out loud, Vic. Lose the effing purse already!”

I didn’t have to channel magic to understand what Don Juan had just said. Eight years of high school and college Spanish courses (plus a semester studying paranormal creatures in South America during grad school) meant I had no trouble following along. Convenient, since Sierra Nieves was supposed to be fluent in her own right.

I steered the conversation back to English for benefit of the little ears listening in via the wireless mike. “No, no, how stupid of me to get so startled!”

He held out his hand and, to his credit, actually kept his gaze firmly on my eyes rather than my girls. “Not at all. Please allow me to introduce myself since we haven’t formally met. My name is Victor Esteban, and I am Harper’s man of honor. You must be the supremely talented and of course lovely Sierra Nieves.” He didn’t say it but I almost heard the echo, “Wedding Planner to the Stars!” in his voice.

“Oh, how wonderful to meet you finally, Victor. Harper’s told me so much about you.”

“All good, I hope.”

“Well.” I returned his flirtatious smile. “
Mostly
good.”

Perfectly sculpted lips pulled back into a smile. “Now, being
all
good would be rather boring, wouldn’t it?”

I ushered him inside the little office and closed the door behind him. “Is there something I can do for you, Victor? I trust that everything is going smoothly out there?” I played the role of Sierra Nieves to the hilt, smiling and twirling my hair and giving off come-hither vibes. Victor reacted tit for tat in the flirtation department. I have to admit, every time Scott made a frustrated sound in my ear, I fought back a snicker. Considering the many times he’d made me green with envy over the past few years, it only seemed fair.

Victor, every inch the gentleman, pulled out my chair before seating himself. He waved a reassuring hand. “No worries there, Sierra. Everything is going impeccably with the engagement party. My only regret is that I missed the first half.”

“Oh, that’s right. Harper
did
mention you were in California testifying at some sort of trial.” I made my last few words sound slightly inquisitive.

He flashed another smile. “Yes, I do a lot of consulting work in the medical industry and, to supplement my income, also serve as an expert witness for corporations.”

Interesting. I’d have to do a little more digging to see just what sort of medical consulting he did. Did he have an MD? That might warrant putting
him
on the suspect list, since a doctor who was also an arcane would have the necessary knowledge to best incapacitate—and permanently kill—a Cat. In this case, a
fellow
Cat.

“That sounds positively fascinating, Victor. I’d
love
to hear more about it.”

“Perhaps we can get together for lunch sometime this week? To discuss my role as man of honor, of course.”
Of course.

“Are you just going to flirt with him all night or try and rule him in or out as a suspect anytime soon?” If I could have picked the sour grapes out of Scott’s voice, I would have made a fortune on the resulting wine.

Still, he
did
have a point. “A good idea, since we will be working together so closely over the next few weeks to make Harper’s day as perfect as possible.”

“
Ay
,
querida
, I very much look forward to working with you.” His expression sobered. “Which brings me to why I selfishly cornered you. I’m sure that, by now, you have heard of the murderer who stalks our city streets?”

“Yes, I read the headline in the
Herald
this morning. Very tragic and very scary.” Yeah, and if I got hold of whoever leaked the fact the three Cat corpses had been tied together before we’d wanted that news getting out, Sahana might well have another autopsy to perform.

“Tragic indeed. I knew each one, at least in passing, and all were very fine men. It’s also devastating to see what Harper is going through now.” His voice thickened with emotion. “If I could get my hands ’round the neck of whoever is causing her such pain . . . ”

He seemed to care for Harper an awful lot, considering he was an
ex
-lover. Then again, she cared enough about him in turn to name him her man of honor. I echoed that sentiment out loud, though less accusingly.

He smiled fondly. “Harper and I have known each other since we were little
niños
, you must understand. We actually made a try as a couple a few years ago, but
ay
. What an ill-fated attempt it was. Some people are meant to be friends rather than lovers.”

Okay, that sounded reasonable, especially in light of the fact Scott had said pretty much the same thing about his dismal one-night stand with Harper. “Ohhhhh?” I drew the word out with curiosity. “So it ended badly, then?”

“Oh no, quite the contrary. We both realized our mistake and parted ways as lovers amicably.” Another quick smile. “Trust me, Harper would never have named me her man of honor—even to stave off bloodshed between her sisters and cousins—had we not remained on good terms after the breakup. We make far better friends than lovers. Which is why I wish I could choke the life from whoever is causing her so much grief now.”