Green-Eyed Envy (28 page)

Trinity had texted an update the night before on the suicide case, which had been as open and shut as expected, and sent another that morning asking where my lazy ass was hiding itself—using pretty much those exact words. I let her know I was already at the PD and then scrolled to the final message, fingers crossed I’d somehow managed to dodge the proverbial bullet for now. But then I noticed the minutes-old message was from Harper, clicked it open, and read five little words that sent my world careening off course once more.

My pulse skittered.
Oh my gods, Scott!
Then I frowned. Wait. No way anyone could term my feeling an inordinate amount of lust for Vic the Slick as an “affair,” even adding in the fact he kept trying to get me alone so he could engage in just that thing. So then what the hell was Harper talking about?

Only one way to find out for sure. I gritted my teeth and punched in Harper’s number.

She answered before the first ring ended its electronic echo. “Oh gods, Riss, it’s such a mess!”

The panic in her voice was very loud and very personal, and sounded like it had
nothing
to do with Scott and me. “Calm down, Harp, and tell me what’s going on. What affair?”

“
What
affair? Mutt told me he
told
you!”

A lightbulb burst into life inside my tired brain. “You mean you
didn’t
tell Penn about you and Scott?”

“Gods, no, Riss! He gets so insanely jealous. I
knew
he’d flip when he found out Scott and I dated even though it was before he and I even met. I’m not even sure how he found out!”

Okay, so technically this did have
something
to do with Scott and me, but relief that Scott had caused this disasterin-waiting made me almost giddy, until my mind seized on one of Harper’s words and shoved it to the forefront. Who referred to a one-night stand as “dating”? “I—it’s not like you two dated long.”

“Exactly! Four weeks is
nothing
in the scheme of things for an arcane!”

Yeah, nothing—unless you
lied
to a new lover by claiming you hadn’t
dated
that person at all.
One-night stand my ass!
Rage churned in my belly, but self-reflection had me fighting it back.
What’s worse—playing down a relationship that took place when you were broken up, or engaging in extreme amounts of lust for another man just because you’re undercover?

I kept my tone cautious. “Is he that mad? Has he—called the wedding off?”

“No, not yet, but—I’m scared, Riss. He stormed out of here mad as hell and threatening to beat the shit out of Mutt when he finds him. Tell me you’re with him now so I at least don’t have to worry about
that
. ”

Her faith that I could keep two riled-up Warhounds from killing each other might have warmed my heart under other circumstances. “I—wish I could, Harp, but Scott was babysitting that Orpheus again last night. I’m supposed to call him at his place this afternoon.”

“It’s almost noon now. Shit, Riss. Penn ran off without Tariq, and you know there’s no love lost between him and Mutt’s family.”

I glared skyward.
Are you all even
trying
to help me out here? It’s like you
want
to start another arcane war!

“I’m shifting and taking off now, Harp. Meet me at Hounds of Anubis.”

And maybe, if the gods got off their lazy asses to help a Fury out, I’d get there in time to avoid having yet
another
murder case on my hands . . .

 

 

HARPER MUST HAVE BEEN ON HER WAY TO Hounds when I called, because she pelted up to the building in Cat shape just as I landed and shifted from Durra’s form to my own. It was pure self-preservation that I was impersonating the one Fury I knew none of the Megaeras would be after. Few others were present to witness our transformations—noon might have been a respectable time of day in the mundane world, but here in the Belly it was ridiculously early. Those who
did
catch sight of us recognized the telltale red leather of a Fury and wisely looked elsewhere. Some things remained the same for immortals as for mortals: Avoid getting caught up in police investigations if at all possible.

Neither of us wasted time on social niceties. “See Penn on your run over?”

“No. Nothing from above?”

“Nope. Maybe we beat him here.” A loud crash rent the air, followed by raised voices and smaller crashes inside the building.
There goes
that
idea.
I tugged on the boutique’s doorknob but found it locked despite the sign indicating business hours started at noon. Not that locked doors had ever stopped me before. Gods, we had to put a stop to this as quickly as we could. Containment was the name of the game at this point. The fewer people who knew that Harper and Scott had actually dated (I bared my teeth just thinking that), the safer he would be from the rampaging psycho. Well, the rampaging serial killer. “Stand back.”

She immediately hopped down several steps. I placed both hands on the door and braced myself. While the building’s
interior
doors had been spelled to recognize the magical signature of Furies—and allow them entrance to sealed-off rooms—the exterior doors barred entrance to everyone unless they had been keyed to the protective spells. Scott and I had not yet reached the level of comfort in our relationship that his family granted me unlimited access to the building that housed both their livelihoods and homes. Not that it didn’t go both ways—he’d been knocked flat on his ass by my own security system not that long ago.

Magic bubbled up from the floor beneath my feet and surged through my body, pooling into a sapphire cloud that clung to my hands. I murmured words that helped force energy into the shape I willed it to become: a metaphysical sledgehammer. Sparks flew when I jerked my hands forward and assaulted both the building’s mundane lock and magical defenses. Physical pain seared my body each time I wielded that hammer against the door, but I simply grunted and continued striking until
success
! The door slammed open.

The front of the store stood empty. I led the way to the door separating Hounds of Anubis from the back room serving as Shadowhound headquarters, adrenaline surging through my system. No more crashes echoed from the other room, but that didn’t mean a whole hell of a lot.

I paused at the door, taking the time to summon Nemesis and Nike into living form. Harper met my questioning glance with a nod of readiness and waved a Taser to show she had not come unprepared. One of the handy-dandy models that came with several arcane-specific settings and operated on a magical rather than an electrical level.

“You handle your idiot male and I’ll handle mine.” She nodded in response to my whisper, I shoved the door open, and we jumped into the room ready to kick some Warhound ass, only to walk into a scene neither one of us would have expected in a million years.

Scott and Penn sat at the beat-up table in the center of the room, locked in combat as anticipated, but not beating the snot out of each other. Instead, each had a hand clasped around that of the other, arms straining to force the other’s hand to the table top and thus become the victor. Broken glass littered the floor around them, with several intact shot glasses and a very large bottle of whiskey giving silent testimony to the sources of the earlier crashes. Several of Scott’s relatives stood around the room, cheering on Scott and jeering Penn, save for one person. Elliana clapped and hollered on his behalf more loudly than the others combined.

Harper and I exchanged looks again. Here we’d burst in, expecting to find our lovers locked in mortal combat, only to find them engaged in drunken
arm wrestling
instead. I wasn’t sure whether to be amused, relieved, or pissed off. Neither, apparently, was she.

Scott’s sister, Kiara—she of the healing hands and magical potions—happened to be closest to the door, so I scooted forward and jabbed her in the shoulder. She turned with a scowl, rubbing her arm, but relaxed when she recognized me. We’d become close friends during my first relationship with Scott, and unbeknownst to me, she’d continued to advocate on my behalf during our breakup. Of course, she’d gone for my figurative jugular when I first came back to Scott for help. He
was
her little brother, after all.

I jerked my thumb toward the arm wrestlers. “You the bookie or something? Thought people were killing each other in here. Almost busted down the front door trying to get in.”

Her cheeks took on the hue of sun-ripened tomatoes. Liana must be away from the building entirely or her daughter would never have stopped to watch the show. I don’t care how old someone gets, mothers never get less scary.

“Elle said those two have been going at it for a couple hours now. They drink and argue for a while, then start arm wrestling, then go back to drinking and arguing.”

“She say what set them off?”

If possible, Kiara’s cheeks grew even redder when she caught sight of Harper inching up next to me. “Um, wow, look at the time. Gotta open the shop or Mom will kill me.” She scurried away before either of us could react, leaving us to shrug and move on to Elliana.

Oh gods, with the sheer number of people witnessing this shouting match, no
way
would we be able to contain this. Gossip spread among the arcane world just as quickly as it did in the mundane world. Okay, to be fair, even faster. Scott was
so
going to be on the killer’s shit list after this.

I tried to drown burgeoning fear with sarcasm. “So, who’s the house favorite?”

Ellie shot a sardonic look over her shoulder. “Like you can’t tell.”

My lips twitched. “Well, the Banoub name isn’t exactly the most popular around here.”

She rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it.” Her gaze moved from me to Harper and grew sympathetic. “How you holding up,
chica
? ”

“I’ve been better. But at least
those two
aren’t beating each other bloody like I expected.”

“It was kinda touch and go there for a while till I got them talking rather than growling at each other.”

Getting two bristling Warhounds to go all verbal without throwing even one punch? Okay, that was impressive even for Ellie. Not that I’d ever tell
her
that.

Harper had no such qualms. “How did you pull off
that
miracle?”

“Threatened to sic Grandmother on the both of them if they couldn’t settle things like grown men rather than oversized pups.”

I blinked. That’d do it. Penn had been trained from early on to revere Neema Banoub whereas Scott would have wanted to avoid her invading the Murphy stronghold at any cost. Bad enough he had to put up with her in small doses in his role as groomsman.

Harper tilted her head, a calculating expression spreading across her suddenly feline face. “ Hm. I’ll have to keep that tactic in mind for the future.”

Too bad that threat wouldn’t work nearly so well coming from me. Scott knew good and well I loathed his maternal grandmother even more than he did. More’s the pity. “So, how long they been arm wrasslin’?”

“About a half hour now. First they bitched at each other, then they got in a drinking contest, and now they’re going for the best two out of three. Tied one-all at the moment.”

Judging by the wordless grunts, the sweat dripping from their brows, and the strained looks on their faces, this one might end in a draw rather than a clear win, which would actually be healthier for both their egos. I kept my voice brusque. “While I’m glad the two
oversized pups
seem to have worked things out with relatively minor property damage, I’d really rather channel their skills in more useful—and sober—directions today. Like, oh, I don’t know, tracking down a serial killer.”

Ellie’s eyes grew shadowed at the reminder. She burst into action, barking out orders to the catcalling (ha) mercenaries and clearing the room in thirty seconds flat. Penn and Scott paid little attention to their dwindling audience until I upended a bottle of booze (
not
my precious Jack) over their heads, at which point they howled out threats and turned to face their antagonist. Both fell silent when they recognized me. Outright guilt flashed across Scott’s features—guilt I might have exploited if I wasn’t wallowing in some of my own.

“So, now that you’ve worked
that
out of your systems, let’s lay it all out on the table. Yes, Scott and Harper had a fling a couple years ago. Yes, they could have been more forthcoming on the exact nature of that
way
before now. No, we don’t have time to open that particular can of worms. Can we all agree that stopping the killer before he strikes again is a little more important than dragging skeletons out of closets?”

Scott and Harper exchanged a quick, shamefaced glance but nodded wordlessly. Penn blinked bleary eyes in my direction, inebriated mind processing my words. Since
my
idiot male seemed to have no such difficulty, I realized he must have watered down his own drinks to make sure
one
of them kept his wits about him.

Penn shook himself suddenly—looking very much the oversized pup as droplets of whiskey flew every which way—and frowned at me. “So you knew already?”

“More like I guessed they had a—thing—but it’s obviously past history now so nothing to worry about.”

His shoulders sagged. “Guess it was stupid to think any man—even a Hound—could satisfy a Fury
and
another woman at the same time.”

Since his sentiment so closely mirrored my own thoughts on the subject, I had to choke back a laugh and force myself to nod seriously. He reached an unsteady hand toward Scott, who tensed until he realized the other Hound wanted to shake hands rather than commit bodily harm against him. “Just to be clear, you ever sniff around my mate again and you’re a dead man.”

Well, shaky his hand and thought processes might be, but he was sober enough to mark his territory the Warhound way. Mortal women might have gotten offended, but we arcanes recognized it for what it was. Millennia of magical instinct driving him to warn off a potential interloper, much the same as animals in the wild. Which, some of the time, they
were
.