Green-Eyed Envy (16 page)

Computer keys started tapping from Scott’s open mike. “Been doing some digging on Vic. He had an alibi for the time that the first Cat was murdered, and it’s doubtful he could have had time the other night to get from the airport to Beacon Hill, beat the snot out of Rockefeller, head back home near BU to spruce up, and make it to Back Bay in time for canapés. Dammit.”

I heard the words in my ears, some part of my mind even registered them, but my attention was focused on Victor’s bedroom eyes and full, kissable lips. The warmth where our hands touched had to be one of the most erotic sensations I’d ever experienced. Which, considering the fact my official lover could hear and see everything I could at that moment, should have had me squirming with guilt. And yet, oddly it didn’t. I fumbled for something to say or do and came up empty. Victor leaned forward slowly, almost as if he was moving in for a kiss—but was just moving in for a closer look at the wine list. Scott’s low growl through the headset showed he was finally taking the Cat as a serious threat. Which made Victor push back and frown.

“What was that?”

I blinked dazedly. “I—ah, what?”

“I just heard some sort of buzzing sound—are you still wearing your headset?”

My hand touched the slim earbud and a guilty expression crept across my face. “Oh, yeah. Didn’t bother taking it out since we’re heading straight to the tuxedo place after this. Must have been interference from a cell phone just now.” I deliberately pressed the
mute
button on the device. Now, they could still hear what went on around me, but their inconvenient and ill-timed comments couldn’t make Victor suspicious. “There, power off and problem solved.”

Fortunately for Victor’s personal safety and my relationship, the hot and heavy moment between Cat and “Hound” had been ruined. He caressed my hand before turning back to his lunch, and I gave an inner sigh of relief. True, he was now even lower on the suspect list, but the last thing I wanted to risk was blowing my cover. It only took one person blabbing to the wrong person at the wrong time to bring everything tumbling down like a house of cards.

And unfortunately, I spoke from firsthand experience.

EXPECTING THE AFTERNOON TO GO MORE smoothly than the morning had been incredibly naïve of me, something I couldn’t claim to be very often.

Victor walked me from the North End to the formalwear shop just inside Chinatown where Mama Hound planned to hold court over the selection of tuxedos. Since she was footing the bill for the tuxes—and most everything else—there’d been no way to dissuade her from attending what
should
have been an all-male (besides me) event.

Not that I hadn’t tried.

The first sign the afternoon was going to lead to large amounts of self-medication that evening came when Victor ushered me across the store’s threshold. An unsmiling, tight-lipped Scott met my gaze from the corner where he stood with the other groomsmen. Other than a slight bobble as I walked across the room, my composure didn’t crack. I pulled Sierra’s persona around me like well-wrought armor and prepared to do battle. Shame sparked where it had failed to earlier. Victor was
so
not my usual type that the chemistry between us kinda freaked me out. Granted, he was handsome as hell and dripped enough sex appeal to make a movie star jealous, but still. Was my stupid unconscious mind trying to tell me something? Was it my Fury nature rearing its unbridled head? Was it panicking at all the wedding brouhaha going on around me?
Oh please. Just because Harp is marrying
her
Hound doesn’t mean you have to rush off to do the same thing.
Or could I just be overthinking things? I’d shared powerful chemistry with men other than Scott before, so was it such a shock to have it happen again? I just had to play things as cool as possible. Once this case was over, I’d go back to being
me
, Sierra would die a quiet death, and Victor would be none the wiser. I had
nothing
to worry about.

And maybe if I told myself that often enough, it might start to ring true.

Scott didn’t speak when I stopped in front of the gathered groomsmen, just narrowed his eyes when Victor stepped up beside me.
Oh hell. Could this
get
any worse?

Yes, yes, it could.

The “dulcet” tones of Neema and Rashida Banoub sounded from the back of the store. I mentally gritted my teeth, gathered up the groomsmen, and herded them toward the voices.
Please, gods and goddesses, let Penn be there already.

For once, luck was with me. A resigned-looking Penn stood on a pedestal while his grandmother and aunt criticized a harried-looking tailor as he fiddled with Penn’s tuxedo. His mother—obviously the submissive personality of
that
group—sat on a cushioned bench watching the fireworks. Despite her demure pose, something about her expression when she caught sight of Victor had chills rushing down my spine. If looks could kill, Victor wouldn’t have to worry about the serial killer at all. I reconsidered my opinion of Zahra as a nonthreat. Maybe Neema and Rashida
weren’t
the only Banoubs in the room to watch out for . . .

Speaking of the Banoubs, Mama Hound and her Alpha Daughter noticed me and beckoned imperiously. I shot apologetic looks at the groomsmen (and man of honor) before rushing over to soothe ruffled feathers. It was easy to lose myself in the mundane task of supervising the tux fittings for the next couple of hours, especially since that meant not having to think about sexy devils like Victor, fuming lovers like Scott, and the growing pain in my knee from all the torture I was putting it through. After three hours standing at the bridal boutique, walking to and from the North End for lunch, and another two hours here, disguising my pain from everyone else—especially Scott’s watchful gaze—was becoming harder than expected.

As the hours ticked by, however, Penn turned my attention from my knee to his increasingly erratic behavior. He blew up at his grandmother and aunt midway through his fitting and engaged in a very loud argument with them—something I’d
never
seen him do. Usually he remained excruciatingly polite and respectful toward them. Seeing him verbally eviscerate them caught everyone off guard, even the tyrants themselves. His snappish attitude extended toward his three youngest cousins when they started goofing off, though really, who could blame men in their early twenties for getting bored after two hours of mostly standing around doing nothing? Apparently Penn could—and he did, quite vocally. I finally stepped in and escorted him to a smaller changing room to calm down. I had just about succeeded when his body stiffened and he glared over my shoulder at whoever had entered the room.

“Sorry, Sierra, but Mrs. Banoub asked me to fetch you. Something about the cummerbunds not being the exact shade of blue as the bridesmaid dresses.” I started at the sound of Victor’s amused voice and then had to wonder why Penn looked so pissed off at the sight of his wife’s man of honor.

Victor hesitated at the entryway. Penn growled loudly enough to put Scott to shame, muttered what sounded very much like a heated insult in Egyptian-flavored Arabic, and stalked away without even looking at me.

Whoa,
something
struck a nerve right there.

The question, then, was whether all the stress was getting to Penn—and Victor was a visual reminder of the killer making his life a living hell—or whether I needed to take a closer look at him
and
his mother.

Victor barely moved aside in time for Penn to storm past. Looking sadder than I’d ever seen him, Victor watched the other man stomp down the hallway toward the main fitting area. Always a sucker for a man in touch with his sensitive side, I patted his shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sure he’s just stressed out. Prewedding jitters and all that jazz.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I’m afraid there’s more to it than that,
querida
. ”

I tensed my body. “I didn’t know there was bad blood between you and the groom.” If Harper had left out such an important piece of info, she and I were going to have one of my famous little “chats.”

“Not between Pennington and me directly.” Victor gave me a serious look. “What I tell you now must go no further. I wouldn’t want Harper to think I was trying to come between her and the man who brings her so much happiness.”

“Of course.”

“Harper wasn’t the first Cat that Pennington had a secret relationship with.”

Okay, that came as a surprise, sure, but didn’t explain the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hound ’tude Penn suddenly had going on.

“When his old flame decided she’d had enough of dating a Hound incognito, she left him for one of her own race, a former boyfriend. Pennington became furious after he found out and barged into her home to confront her—and found her new lover there. Needless to say, fur flew, and at the end of it all, the Banoubs paid a pretty penny for the cover-up and hospital bills.”

Now
that
could certainly explain the
Hulk, smash
routine.

Dammit!
I was supposed to be narrowing down my suspect list, not adding to it. And I liked Penn. He and Harper had a good thing going (other than the serial killer and their pain-in-the-ass relatives), and I didn’t want to be the cause of bringing that to a screeching halt. Which investigating—and arresting—the groom-to-be would sure as hell do.
Gods, I need some Excedrin. And Jack. Lots and lots of Jack.

I’d make my dearly departed alcoholic father proud yet.

Not the time to think about the skeletons in
my
closet. “So the Banoubs have reason to resent Cats for hurting one of their own.”

Victor paused before laying a hand on my arm. “No,
querida
, the Cat didn’t hurt one of their own. Pennington sent his old flame’s lover to the hospital with so many broken ribs it’s a wonder he didn’t damage anything vital.”

Oh, lovely. Now I really
would
have to seriously consider Penn as a suspect. And if I found out he was guilty, risk losing the new friend I was coming to care about so much. Even if she
had
slept with my boyfriend once upon a time.

Some of my unease must have shown, because Victor drew me into his arms and rested his cheek against my forehead. He leaned in to kiss me.

It was ridiculously hard to tug away from his embrace, but I somehow found the strength to do just that. “V-Vic.” Gods, was that
my
voice sounding so shaky and uncertain? “We can’t do this.”

Disappointment crossed his face. His fingers tightened on my arms, but then they relaxed and he nodded. “You’re right. Anyone could walk in and you’re working. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”

I latched on to the excuse he provided. “Y-yes, exactly. I can’t afford to alienate clients like the Banoubs. And if Mama Hound walked in here right now . . . ”

He let out a loud bark of laughter. “Mama Hound? Oh, that’s so appropriate for her.”

My hands couldn’t resist touching his arms once more before I pushed away and moved to the empty doorway. I ignored the sense of cold and loss that washed over my skin when it was no longer in contact with him.
What the hell, Riss? Maybe you’re getting in way too deep here. You are
not
Sierra Nieves, and you do
not
want Victor Esteban.

No matter
what
twisted signals my body might be sending out . . .

 

 

THE REST OF THAT AFTERNOON PASSED BY in a merciful flash. One by one, Mama Hound pronounced each groomsman’s tuxedo satisfactory, and the men scrambled off as quickly as they could, until only Penn, Victor, and Scott were left.
That
could have led to big trouble in little Chinatown if not for the fact that Scott had already agreed to escort Penn to meet Harper and the bridesmaids at the already-in-progress cake and food tasting. Something that I got to sit out of, thanks to Trinity.

Scott’s eyes threw daggers Victor’s way and sent sparks skittering down my spine when he shot me a heated glance before following Penn outside. I looked down at my trusty clipboard, pretending to write down some all-important note, but really stalling long enough to make sure Scott wouldn’t get the chance to blow our cover by confronting Victor.
And to think I once thought it would be hot to have two men lusting over me at the same time . . .

Not so much. More like a big, huge pain in the ass. Especially considering one of them only wanted a fake “me” that didn’t exist, and the other should damned well know none of this was real. No matter
how
it might sometimes feel.

Victor held the door open for me and followed me out into the late afternoon sunshine. I blinked until my eyes adjusted. My knee gave a very loud protest when I carelessly stepped down onto the sidewalk, and I barely managed to hold back a girly squeal of pain. Victor’s hand latched on to my upper arm to steady me. I smiled gratefully, caught once again by the sheer magnetic heat that poured from his body to mine whenever we touched.

“Careful there,
querida
. Now then, the gentleman in me insists on seeing you home safely. Especially in light of the arcane killer prowling our fair city’s streets.”

Well,
that
would prove awkward—my cover didn’t extend to having a fake apartment set up for visitors to see. I sure as hell couldn’t let him take me back to my own townhouse in Cambridge and risk a nosy neighbor screwing things up. Neither could I let him know that Cass waited just down the street in the van to take me back to the PD so I could go over the day’s events with Trinity once she finished up at the cake and food tasting.

“That’s very—noble of you, Victor, but really, it’s not necessary.”

His lips took on a stubborn set that reminded me of Scott in one of his moods—or myself, come to think of it—and I floundered for a valid reason he couldn’t take me home. Cass came to my rescue. “Tell him you’re meeting another client downtown.”