“Are you okay?”
Raphael’s lips moved. He swore.
Ha! I got him! Drink it in, darling. Where’s your seven-foot-tall fiancée now?
“Is there something wrong with my dress?” Rub it in, rub it in…
Raphael finally managed to formulate a word. “No. Just wondering where you hid your gun.”
I showed him my giant clutch.
“Ah,” he said. “Didn’t see that.”
Of course he didn’t. He was too busy looking at me. It was a small revenge, but it tasted so sweet.
Raphael led me to his Pack Jeep that spat and roared, belching magic. He opened the door for me. As I got in, his scent slid along my skin, singing to me.
Maaate. Mate-mate-mate.
Damn it.
I sat in my seat. Instead of closing the door, he leaned toward me, a look of intense concentration on his face as if he were about to say or do something rash.
My breath caught in my throat. If he bent down to kiss me, I would punch him right in the face. I wouldn’t be able to help myself.
Raphael pushed himself away from me and closed the door.
Good. It was better this way. Really.
Raphael got into the Jeep, shut the door, muting the roar of the water engine, and we took off.
He reached to the side compartment in his door, pulled out a folder, and dropped it on my lap. I opened it. A time line of his workers’ movements on the night of the murder. “Great. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
I dug into the time line.
Twenty minutes later it was clear that none of Raphael’s people had had time to double back to the site and murder their friends and colleagues. Raphael was the only man without a solid alibi. According to his schedule, he’d gone home, apparently without his fiancée. Knowing him, I had expected them to be at it like rabbits, but I guess even rabbits had an off day once in a while.
I tapped the paper. “What about Colin? Jim’s file said he’s in debt.”
“He’s in debt because his house caught fire. He took out an emergency loan from the Pack. He works hard and he knows that if he’s ever in trouble, he can come to me.”
I leaned my head back, but not too hard—wouldn’t do to mess up my hair against the headrest.
“We agreed to share information,” Raphael said.
“I don’t have much to share. Spent all day at the library trying to pin down Jamar’s art collection. Found eight items that weren’t in the vault, some with pictures. Nothing stood out. Got a set of prints that doesn’t belong to anyone on your payroll, but there are no hits in any of the databases. Analyzed a metric ton of trace evidence without any conclusive leads.”
“You will solve it,” he said. “If Jim hadn’t assigned you to this, I would’ve asked for you.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence. So nobody can confirm that you went home?”
Raphael shrugged. “No. Had I known I’d have to provide an alibi, I would’ve made sure not to spend the night alone.”
“I’m surprised you did.”
He didn’t rise to the bait. “It’s been forty-eight hours and we have no leads.”
His tone told me he wasn’t criticizing. His people were dead. Raphael was angry, frustrated, and hurting. “I wouldn’t say that. You know how it goes—slow and steady wins the race.”
“I know.” He looked at the road. “I had to sign the death benefit papers today.”
That had to have sucked. “Nick came to see me. He’s having a rough time.”
“He isn’t the only one,” Raphael said. “I should’ve known about the vault. I should’ve known it was there.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” I told him. “I pored over Jamar’s press releases all day and I never once saw the vault mentioned. You didn’t miss it. The information just wasn’t there to begin with.”
“You really think Anapa had something to do with it?”
“I don’t know if he did. He has no criminal record. He has no parking tickets. His company is squeaky clean, although I didn’t have time to dig too deep. In addition, I spent an hour on him in the library today and I found zip. He wouldn’t see me, but he knows he’s under scrutiny. His people know who I am, too.”
Raphael glanced at me.
“His mouthpiece made sure to remind me that I no longer had the Order on my side.”
“Ah.”
Ah what? Ah—too bad? Ah—I understand? Ah—serves you right? “They know who I am; they know I’m tenacious. Why not spend ten minutes answering my questions? Then I go away, and everyone’s happy.”
“You think he’s hiding something?”
I sighed. “I don’t know. I’m collecting information and I’ve run into a roadblock. Short of staging a break-in, this party is my best bet.”
Raphael snorted. “A break-in. You?”
“I thought about it,” I said. “I think he has the roof heavily warded and there are a lot of surveillance cameras. He did leave a very nice route open for me, with cameras not covering it even, so I’m pretty sure it’s trapped six ways to Sunday. I’d probably go through the basement instead. But again, since he isn’t in the office much, there’s not much point.”
Raphael stared at me. I wished he would stop doing that. Every time he turned to me, my heart kept trying to pirouette out of my chest in a futile attempt to flop itself at his feet. Meanwhile my hands wanted to wrap around his throat and strangle him. It was good that my brain was in charge.
“Who are you and what have you done with Andrea?”
“I’m the new and more-screwed-up version. Or much improved, depending on the way one looks at it.”
He stared straight ahead. “I thought being screwed up was something we had in common.”
“No, I was always the f**ked-up one. You were the spoiled one.”
The line of Raphael’s jaw hardened. “I’ve worked since I was sixteen, six days a week. I’ve built my company from nothing with ten thousand dollars of seed money I borrowed from the Pack, just like everyone else, and I’ve paid back five times that. I am supporting the entire Clan Bouda now. Nobody gave me any special treatment. How exactly am I spoiled?”
I blinked at him. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Please, enlighten me.”
“You remember last year you wanted to take that vacation in the Keys for a week?”