Enigma (6 page)

Patrick just followed her inside and let the door swing shut behind them. “Some of them,” he agreed blandly. “If the shifter sticks around, and the bed’s in any shape to be slept in by the time you’re done.”

Of course. She’d done it again, let her own urges—the ones she couldn’t even form, much less voice—color what should have been black and white.

The beds loomed, huge and spread with white coverlets, the proverbial elephants in the room. They’d never get anywhere with blithe quips, so she tossed her bag on the bed nearest the door and faced him. “We have to talk about this.”

“You mean the thing where we’re both trying too hard?” Patrick set the food on the table and unzipped his jacket, revealing another of his seemingly endless collection of black T-shirts. “You’re fun to spar with, Anna. You’re fun to flirt with. You’re just flat-out fun. But this is work…”

“Yeah, I know.” It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation—or something like it—and the last thing she wanted was for him to spell it all out for her again. “This is work, so we keep it in our pants.”

He looked like he wasn’t sure he agreed, but after a moment he nodded. “Yeah. That’s probably the best way for neither of us to get dead.”

She couldn’t resist poking at him a little. “Hey, if you’d rather casually break a few beds, I’m game for that too.”

“You and me, Anna? Casual?” He rolled his eyes and reached for his food. “That ship has sailed, honey.”

“It was worth a shot.” Anna sat at the table and opened another of the bags. “You work, and then you play. Me too, nowadays. I guess I should thank you for the life lesson.”

He flinched. “Really? You know what I learned this last winter? No one should learn life lessons from me.”

“Patrick—” She started to reach for him but jerked her hand away. It wasn’t her place to comfort him, not when they still couldn’t manage to figure out what the hell they were to each other. “We were both there. What happened to Ben and Lia is either no one’s fault, or it’s mine too. So get mad at
me
. Hate
me
.”

“Didn’t Julio and Sera tell you?” The bag rustled as he pulled out three cheeseburgers. “I killed all the people at fault. I buried every fucking one so deep Jesus won’t find them at the end of days.”

Their friends hadn’t had to tell her. Anna had known, the same way she’d known everything else that sometimes seemed more important than breathing—she’d watched out for him. Kept tabs on him. “I hope you’re not waiting for me to tell you I think what you did was wrong.”

Patrick finally looked at her. “Everyone else has. Or at least told me it was stupid.”

“Going after them all alone
was
stupid. You should have let me help.”

He laughed raggedly. “That’s what Sera said. She’s a bloodthirsty little thing, isn’t she?”

Sera would have killed everyone who hurt Julio and Kat with her bare hands, slowly and gleefully. “She can be. She doesn’t understand the truth.”

“What truth is that?”

“You can stop them from hurting anyone else,” she murmured, “but that’s it. The vengeance part of it? It’s worthless. The people you loved are still just as dead when you’re done.”

He leaned forward, and his tattoos flexed as he fisted his hands. “Ben and Lia are just as dead. But I started sleeping at night again.”

“That’s something, then.” The pressure in her chest grew painful, squeezing tight like a vise, and she rose. “I’m not hungry, so I think I’m going to grab a shower while you eat.”

Patrick held out a hand, like he’d try to stop her. “Wait, Anna. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He wasn’t the only one who could fake it, and fake it hard. “Look, you’ve got your shit. We all do. It’s no big deal.”

He capitulated, turning his attention to his food. “Yeah, okay.”

Anna grabbed her bag and fled to the bathroom. In minutes, she’d stripped off her clothes and climbed under the stinging spray. She’d made it too cold, but she left it that way—a warning and a reminder that you couldn’t always control things.

Sometimes, you just had to endure.

She spent half an hour shivering under the water, then toweled off and dressed in a tank top and panties. If Patrick hadn’t taken the hint and turned in already, he deserved to watch her walk around half-naked.

But he was still up. She brushed her teeth at the vanity sink before crossing the room and climbing into bed. “Get the light, would you?” she asked as she peeled back everything but the thin sheet for covers.

“Sure.” Patrick had stripped down to his boxers and that same black T-shirt. He had tattoos on his legs too, extending down to encase strong thighs and calves.

Fuck my life.
She rolled over and fixed her gaze to a spot on the wall. Her heart was pounding, but she was somewhat mollified to realize she could hear his as well, thumping way too hard and fast. “Good night, McNamara.”

“Good night, Lenoir.” The other bed creaked. He didn’t shift around, trying to find a comfortable spot. Just stretched out in silence, the only sound his steady breathing and his unsteady heart.

Chapter Five

Nathan Jacobson lived in a bachelor pad. Not a cheap one with pizza boxes and beer cans littering every available surface, but the swank, expensive kind enjoyed by the financially privileged. Everything was clean and polished, from the stark wood and leather furnishings to the granite counters and metal fixtures that undoubtedly enjoyed the daily attention of a maid.

The cookies on the table had been provided by the youngest of the Jacobson clan, along with the steaming mugs of gourmet coffee. “Sit, Mr. McNamara,” Emily urged. “I could make some tea, if you’d rather have that. Or maybe milk?”

“Coffee’s good,” Patrick assured her, glancing at Anna.

She raised both eyebrows and accepted one of the mugs of coffee, then took a cookie as well. “I was sorry you had to miss the wedding, Emily.”

The girl’s smile slipped just a little, but she recovered quickly. “Me too. But I was supposed to go with Oscar, not by myself.” She lowered her voice. “So say my parents, anyway.”

Nathan returned from the other room, a thick file in one hand. He looked like a younger, less uptight version of Alec, one with less facial hair and fewer frown lines.

But he had the same sarcastic laugh. “Our parents have lots of pithy wisdom, Em. Not sure I’d take their advice on marriage, though.”

She sighed heavily. “No, I imagine not.”

Nathan dropped the file in front of Patrick before taking the chair next to him. “Alec emailed this morning. This is everything he’s got on the Southwest council. He said Anna knows most of it, but it might be quicker for you if she doesn’t have to explain it all.”

Or Alec was worried the two of them wouldn’t be working well together. Patrick accepted the file but didn’t look at it. Instead, he focused on Emily. “The thing we need most is information on Oscar Ochoa. When’s the last time you saw him?”

“July twenty-third,” she answered immediately, then blushed. “It was my birthday. We ate at Congress.”

Over a month and a half, then. A long time to go without seeing a suitor…in the human world. “How often did you usually see each other?”

Emily toyed with the edge of a potholder, her gaze unfocused and far away. “I don’t know. Weeks, sometimes longer. He sent me gifts—well, his assistant did, mostly.”

“A typical political courtship,” Anna whispered.

“More than you know.” The brunette laughed, a pained sound full of more misery than humor. “There’s only one person who’ll know if Oscar is really missing, or if he’s just hiding out for a while. His girlfriend.”

It was obviously news to Nathan, who straightened and gave his sister a dour look. “Excuse me?”

Emily met his look with a cool expression. “I saw them together one day while I was shopping. He said he didn’t plan for me to find out about her, but it was probably the best thing for us.” She lowered her voice. “Oscar appreciated the fact that I didn’t make a scene, and I was happy to learn he wasn’t completely heartless.”

“Does his family know about the girlfriend?” If they did, it was a miracle they hadn’t already accused Alec of arranging an accident. Hell, Patrick still wasn’t sure he didn’t belong at the top of the suspect list. Do-gooder or not, Alec had a crazy streak when it came to protecting the women in his family.

“He probably wouldn’t have told them. I think he actually cares about her, and she’s—” Emily looked away uncomfortably, almost apologetically, as if she wanted to offer him another cookie to offset the sting of her words. “She’s human. Beneath him, as far as his family is concerned.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, carefully not looking at Anna. Humans weren’t the only ones the upper crust of wolf society didn’t have much use for. Her own mother had made
that
clear enough. “Do you know her name?”

“We don’t want to hassle her,” Anna added. “And we won’t breathe a word to Jorge.”

Emily nodded and retrieved her purse from the end of the counter. She withdrew a colorful business card advertising guitar and piano lessons and offered it to Patrick. When he reached for it, she pulled it away just a little. “Alec didn’t do this,” she said firmly. “Carmen wouldn’t have let him.”

Patrick bit back a laugh. At least the girl wasn’t under the delusion her brother
couldn’t
have done it. “Having met your sister-in-law, I’ll agree that it doesn’t seem like something she’d approve of.”

Emily gave him the card and folded his fingers around it. “Find him, all right? Oscar isn’t my favorite person, but he could treat me a lot worse than he does and no one would blink. He’s a decent person.”

Nathan was staring at the table, his shoulders set in a stiff line that screamed self-restraint, and Anna stared into her coffee cup. Patrick shoved down a swell of pity that Emily probably wouldn’t appreciate and rested his hand over hers. “Anna’s the best in the business at this, sweetheart, and I’m not biased about that. Just the runner-up.”

“He lies.” Anna pushed away her mug, rose and picked up the manila folder. “Patrick, on the other hand, is a legend. Pretty
and
smart.”

“We’re the Barbie and Ken of bounty hunters,” Patrick agreed lightly, mostly to see if he could make Emily smile.

She didn’t. “I’m not stupid,” she whispered. “Sometimes people look at me the way you are, and… And you don’t have to, okay? I’m not delusional about my situation, so don’t pity me.”

He had no idea how
not
to. The world of shapeshifters and politics wasn’t his. He knew enough to chase down rogues and not get killed, but the rest… Patrick gave Anna a helpless look.

“We’ve got to go,” she said matter-of-factly. “Thanks for the coffee, Emily, and we’ll keep you posted on what we learn. Nathan?”

“I’ll walk you down.” Nathan rose and kissed his sister on the top of her head, edging between Patrick and Emily in a message even a human could decipher.
Back off.

So Patrick wouldn’t be winning any congeniality awards on this trip. “Thanks.” He directed the word at Emily through the protective wall of her brother’s body, then did the prudent thing and retreated.

Nathan didn’t look angry, just exasperated and tired, and neither expression faded as he led them both out the door. When he reached the stairs, he hesitated before glancing at Patrick. “It’s not personal.”

Anna waved the words away. “Have you heard anything about the other missing wolves? Could this be a coordinated power play?”

“I got their names out of my father.” Nathan nodded to the file. “The list’s on top. I’ve only heard of one of them, and even he’s a nobody compared to Oscar.”

“Got it.” She nodded toward the staircase. “Take care of Emily, huh?”

Nathan’s expression softened. “I’m going to distract her. Maybe corrupt her a little with all of my follow-your-dreams bullshit.”

“Good. See you.” Anna pushed through the front door and stood on the sidewalk, surveying the street. Then she pulled her sunglasses out of her jacket and looked at Patrick. “If someone’s not picking off potential rivals, we’d better compare notes on the cases. Even if it turns out Oscar’s been holed up with a hooker, there are still a handful of missing wolves.”

Patrick leaned against his bike. “Now that we’ve got the list, we can start hitting our contacts.”

“We still have to talk to Oscar’s lady too.” Anna bit her lip. “You didn’t say anything wrong in there. Emily just doesn’t want you to think she’s pathetic. She’s not, you know. Not in love with Ochoa, and probably not particularly wishing we’d bring him back. But they’ve taught her for
years
that putting up with this crap is her job, and stuff like that dies hard.”

“Shit.” Patrick shook his head. “I’m not good with wide-eyed girls like that. Half of them look at me like I’m the devil, and the rest…” The rest of them wanted to reenact
Grease
or whichever John Hughes movie they’d watched most recently. “Let’s just say that when the rich shapeshifters deign to hire me, they’re not exactly introducing me to their women.”

“The curse of being a tattooed knockout.” Anna dug her keys out of her pocket. “If you want Emily to fall head over heels, treat her like an adult. I guarantee you that damn near no one else ever does.”

Was it too much to hope there was a hint of jealousy behind the words? Anna had been stone cold and impossible to read this morning, and he’d taken his cue from her. “Sorry, Bounty Hunter Barbie.” Flipping his helmet up, he grinned at her. “I don’t chase little girls. You’re stuck with me for a while longer.”