When Will I See You Again (31 page)

He fell silent.

“What evidence do you have linking him to the murder? Other than this Cramer’s word?”

“None,” Raoul admitted. “Not yet, anyway. I’m not even sure where to look.”

Alexx sipped at the tea. He wasn’t sure what flavor it was, but it was soothing to his jangled nerves. His mind went back to the evening before, to the scene at Charisma between himself and
Foster, the one he’d neglected to mention before—a sin of omission, rather than deliberate intent. He’d wondered about it at the time then forgotten it, caught up in the mystery of the strange caller. Now the other man’s words took on a more sinister shade.

“He tried to scare me away,” he said softly, and father and son turned their gaze upon him.

“What? Who?” Raoul demanded to know.

“Foster. When we were at Charisma last night. When you got that phone call.”

“What did he say to you?” Alexx could feel Raoul tighten beside him, his hand clenching into a fist. He laid a calming hand upon his leg, soothing him into a more peaceful state.

“He told me you were using me and that you’d spit me out when you were done with me, like all the rest,” Alexx reluctantly admitted. “I should have realized how jealous he was then. I…I was just so surprised. I hadn’t expected him to snap at me like that.”

“What did you say to him?” Philippe asked.

Alexx recalled his words with a slight grin. “I told him to leave us the fuck alone.”

Raoul barked out a laugh, and Philippe smiled.

“And that is just one reason out of many why I love you.”

Raoul swooped down and kissed him with a fierce passion that took Alexx by surprise—not so much the kiss itself, but the fact that he’d done it in front of his father. He melted into the warmth of Raoul’s touch until a discreet cough drew them apart once more, Alexx’s cheeks flaming, but in a very pleased way.

Suddenly, something else hit him, another piece of the puzzle falling into place, although the picture was still far from complete.

“Raoul, I just figured out who got me suspended.” He frowned.
“Of course!” Raoul snapped his fingers briskly. “Who else would have such clout? It wasn’t Randolph’s idea, he said so himself. And you could see he felt pressured to fire you. How could I be so blind? It had to be Foster. Or maybe even his father.

But at Foster’s urging. It had to be. He must have felt threatened by you in some way.”

“Threatened? By me?”

Raoul nodded. “He saw us at the police station, remember?

Right after we talked to Jon?”

“I remember. I thought he seemed…a little unfriendly, but I didn’t try to analyze it at the time,” Alexx admitted. “But looking back, I can see it was me he was unhappy with, not you. He didn’t like seeing me with you.”

“He wants you out of my life, no matter what he has to do, apparently.”

“All this conjecture is well and good, but if you’re going to see justice done, you’ll need hard proof.” Philippe’s voice brought them crashing back to reality. “That’s the only way to clear your name, to prove someone else did it. You should tell your godfather what you’ve told me.”

“Perhaps.” Raoul sounded doubtful.

“Why the hesitation? You know Jon will do everything in his power to help you, Raoul. You know he believes in your innocence as much as your mother and I do.”

Alexx took Raoul’s hands in his own, looking deep into his beautiful gray eyes. “You want to know why, don’t you?” He could feel the emotions that tumbled about in Raoul’s chest, feel his perturbation over this gross betrayal by a long-time acquaintance. Jealousy was a strong emotion, but if Foster and Raoul had only been together for such a short time—and that years
ago—it still made no sense to him.

“You’re right. I have to know why,” Raoul admitted. “Even my vanity will not allow me to think I’m so wonderful that he’s been obsessed with me for twenty years.”

“More than twenty years,” Philippe said suddenly.

“What?” Raoul’s head jerked up.

“I think Foster’s been obsessed with you for longer than you know. Longer than even I realized. Ever since you were children together. It seems so clear now, looking back. The way he seemed to cling to you, even then. The way he tried to drive a wedge between you and…Jamie. I’d forgotten.”

“Don’t blame yourself. I never noticed.” Raoul’s voice took on a mournful note. “But you’re right. He never liked Jamie. I had to play mediator between them far too often. Jamie told me not to bother, but he didn’t trust him. He tried to warn me, and I didn’t listen.”

“You were a child, how were you to know?” Alexx gently rubbed Raoul’s hand. “The important thing now is that we prove he did it, and clear your name. But how?”

Alexx watched as Raoul turned his gaze toward the distant water, his eyes turning cold, his jaw setting in a firm line. “I’ll make him tell me,” he said in a deceptively calm voice, one that Alexx knew hid tumultuous emotions.

“You think he’ll just come out and confess to having set you up?” Philippe argued. “To killing someone and pinning the blame on you? What motive would he have for admitting something like that?”

Raoul didn’t answer, maintaining a silent vigil in the direction of the ocean, as if searching for answers there. A shiver ran down Alexx’s spine when he spoke at last.
“I will do what it takes to get his confession.” He set his lips in a grim line. “I will give him what he thinks he wants. I’ll tell him that Alexx and I are no more, that I’ve broken it off.”

“Tell him what he wants to hear.” Alexx picked up on his idea.

“Make him think he was right about us, that you’re only using me.”

Raoul nodded.

“Raoul, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Philippe interjected. “If he’s as unstable as we think he is, there’s no telling what he might do. Up to and including harming you. Tell Jon your ideas, let him handle this.”

“I can take care of myself, Father. And there is no way Jon will get a confession out of Foster. You and I both know it. Even if he had probable cause to bring him in, Foster would lawyer up before he got the charges out of his mouth, and his family would take care of everything else. No, I have to lull him into a false sense of security. Make him brag about what he did.”

A foreboding swept over Alexx, a sickening sensation that shook him to his foundation. A vision of the secluded beach swept into his mind—of water, and turmoil and blackness. As quickly as it had come, the image was gone. He shook his head to rid himself of any lingering traces.

“Even if he does confess, how will you prove it?”

Before Raoul could respond, Alexx leapt into the breach. “A wire. You can wear a wire that’ll record everything he says.”

Raoul frowned. “But that means—”

“Yes, it means going through your godfather, but that’s a better idea anyway,” Philippe interrupted. “Keep it all legal and aboveboard. Well, as much as humanly possible. I don’t know if Jon can even get permission for a wiretap, but it has to be worth a
try.”

“We can tap your office,” Alexx added. “I think that would be safer than wearing a wire. Just get him up to your office, and then—”

“I will
not
be doing that.” Raoul’s lip curled into a sneer, as if he found the very idea offensive.

“No, I know you won’t,” Alexx reassured him. “But he doesn’t have to know that, does he?”

“No, I guess he doesn’t.” Raoul sighed and ran a hand through his thick hair. Suddenly, he slapped himself in the forehead.

“Damn me for being a fool! The Ball!”

“What about the Ball?” Philippe asked.

“Foster’s been after me for years to let him attend and I’ve always turned him down. For many reasons.”

“Why would he have to ask?” Alexx felt confused. “Surely he can afford a ticket.”

“It’s not that easy,” Philippe explained, as Raoul snorted softly.

“The Lupercalia Ball is for supernaturals only, unless one receives special permission. You have to know someone for that sort of consideration.”

“But you said you wanted to take me?”

“Of course I do. For you, I grant special permission. He’s never merited it. And this is one event he can’t buy his way into.”

“How does that help us?”

“That’s how I’ll get him up to the office,” Raoul replied. “I’ll tell him I want to discuss the Ball. He’ll snap at the chance, if I know him.”

“I can see it happening now.” Alexx fell in with his lover’s plans excitedly. “You go to Charisma alone, and he sees you there, figures out that we’re not together. Then things will fall into
place.”

“Hopefully.” Philippe sounded uncertain.

“It’s what we have to work with. We have to make it work.”

He turned toward Alexx, his eyes troubled. “Don’t worry about anything. Please trust me that I would never—”

“Hush, don’t even say it. I
do
trust you. With all my heart.”

Alexx reached one hand behind Raoul’s head, pulled him closer and kissed him silent. He did trust Raoul implicitly. Foster Levine was the duplicitous one here, and he was determined that the spoiled newspaper heir would get what was coming to him, so that Raoul’s name would be cleared.

For a long moment they stared into one another’s eyes. Finally, Raoul broke the silence. “Father, will you call Jon for me and help me set everything up?”

“Of course I will, but are you sure about this, son? Who knows what ugly truths he might dig up? Are you prepared to deal with them?”

“Very sure.”

“Very well.” He sounded resigned, and not at all happy.

“I have another idea,” Alexx ventured. “We won’t just tell him, we’ll show him. We can make it a public split. Right there in Charisma, right in front of everyone.”

“How do we know Foster will be there?”

“Isn’t he always?” Alexx countered.

“Good point. All right, then that’s the plan. Once everything’s set up with Jon, we’ll put on the performance of our lives. And hopefully catch a murderer.”

He pulled Alexx into his arms, holding him close. Alexx noticed Philippe discreetly withdraw, giving them their privacy. He held tightly to Raoul, praying that this night would see the end of
this nightmare, and the beginning of a beautiful dream for him and Raoul.

And nothing worse.

It was far too early to go to Charisma yet, and they knew it.

They didn’t want to tip their hands by doing anything out of the ordinary, and it wasn’t like Raoul to spend much of his daytime hours at the club. He was known to be a creature of the night, wont to party into the wee hours. Given to drinking to excess and banging nameless, anonymous men whenever the fancy struck him. At least that was the reputation he’d built for himself over the past twenty years. Not to mention that Foster Levine was unlikely to make an appearance before evening himself, so there’d be little point in going now.

They’d promised Raoul’s mother that they would spend some time with her, so once they left Philippe to make arrangements with Jon, they took their hot tea into the living area and sat with
her. Obviously delighted at the opportunity, she told Alexx stories that dated from Raoul’s youth, from when he was a mischievous little boy. Alexx ate them up, while Raoul squirmed and pretended to be mortified. But Alexx knew better. He leaned his head on Raoul’s shoulder, his arm about his waist, and admired photo albums that contained Raoul’s baby pictures. Eleanor discreetly flipped past certain areas, and he was sure he knew why, but he saw no sense in commenting. It would serve no purpose to rock the boat, or feed Raoul’s agitation. Alexx was content for the past to be the past. The future was theirs, and that’s what counted. He could feel Raoul’s restlessness, though, felt his body fairly thrum with tension, and an idea came to him.

“Maybe we should go home and get cleaned up for tonight?”

He drew Raoul’s head down so he could whisper in his ear, but it was only a pretense so he could lick his earlobe. He knew damn well Raoul could hear him very well.

Raoul gave him a hooded look. “Good idea. We certainly want to look the part, don’t we? Make it all believable.”

Alexx nodded, before turning to Eleanor. She watched them over the rim of her teacup, and he could feel her happiness from where he sat. He felt safe here, secure. Like he belonged. Again, the thought nagged at him that it was because of who they thought he was. Is. He couldn’t keep the tenses straight. It was all so confusing. He wanted so much to be a part of this family. To fit in with them, because he wanted so badly to fit in with Raoul, to stay with Raoul forever. He’d heard stories of people who were destined for one another, who were meant to be in their lives. To be one another’s mate. He’d not believed that such a thing was possible. It seemed rather fatalistic, relying too much on the winds of chance.
But that was before he’d met Raoul.

And now he hoped that it was true, because he believed with all his heart that Raoul Marchand was the one for him, and there could be no other.

Eleanor set her cup down with seeming reluctance, rising when they did, as if loath to see them go. Alexx had no doubt she’d heard everything they’d discussed with Philippe. And while she might not object, it was clear that she had a mother’s concerns for her only child. Even if her son was a grown man and a werewolf, he was still her little boy, and precious to her.

“Please be careful,” she pleaded, her eyes bright with unshed tears as she took Raoul’s hands and looked into his eyes.