Enigma (4 page)

Chapter Three

The next thirty minutes were going to be the longest of Patrick’s life.

“I’ve got the booze,” he said as he held up two bottles and used his foot to close the door. The hotel room where they’d stashed Julio before the ceremony was nice, with expensive furniture, dark, manly wallpaper…and magic. The owner was a spell caster who specialized in discreet gatherings for supernatural events, and Patrick had no doubt every room in the place was warded and soundproofed.

Right now, Julio looked like he needed a calming spell more than anything else. Too bad the bar had been easier to find than a spell caster. “Beer or whiskey, man?”

Julio shook his head. “I don’t want to puke on Sera’s shoes. I feel like I might anyway, and booze won’t help.”

From what Kat had told him about Sera’s condition, Julio wasn’t the only one in danger of throwing up. Pointing it out wouldn’t help. “Hey, what have you got to be nervous about? That girl loves you.”

“Hell, I know that. I just wish we didn’t have to trot out the dog and pony circus.”

“Don’t you mean wolf and psychic?” Patrick set the liquor down on the dresser before leaning against the wall. “Don’t worry about it. Your sister has the whole thing under control, and Alec’s snarling at anyone who looks at someone else funny.”

Julio’s shoulders shook, and it took Patrick a moment to realize he was laughing. “So Alec is snarling at everyone, then.”

Patrick gave in and smiled. “Yeah, pretty much. How are you handling the rest of it? It’s been a big week for you.”

“I love it,” he answered immediately. “Every second of every day, including the circus. Me and Sera, that’s what I was made for.”

Endless political responsibilities, a list of enemies a mile long, and a bride who might spend their honeymoon hating him for her morning sickness—and the crazy bastard was
glowing
. “That’s good, Julio. It’s great. It’s perfect.” Yeah, three adjectives. That wasn’t overcompensating for his own claustrophobia.

Julio caught Patrick’s gaze in the mirror as he straightened his bow tie. “And you’d be gnawing off your own leg to get away, right?”

“You and Sera are the closest thing I’ve got to family now. I’m sincerely glad you’re happy, and I’ll heap toys on that kid when it shows up. But we’ve all got different ideas of happy, right?”

“Yes, we do. Which is why I don’t want you to kill yourself trying to stick around. Sera and I both get it, you know. If you need to get out of New Orleans for a while.”

Some of the tense weight eased from Patrick’s shoulders. “You kept me from going off the edge. You kept me from getting myself killed. I owe you a lot.”

“Did we?” Julio turned and leaned against the low table. “Sometimes I feel like all we did was try to turn you into something you’re not. Shove you into some stupid mold that would make you miserable.”

“Before.” Patrick had to clear his throat. “Before you were with her. When I was…” Crazy. Suicidal. On the trail of seriously unrighteous blood vengeance, because everyone who’d had a hand in his brother’s death
had
to die, or every life they took from that day forward would be on Patrick.

“Before,” Julio echoed with a nod. “Maybe I did all that because
I
owed
you
.”

It was the one thing they’d never spoken about directly. Patrick couldn’t, at first, not while he was still struggling to grieve, and not while Julio was falling head over heels in love.

It sure as hell wasn’t a topic for the man’s wedding day, either, but maybe it was a time for dark confessions. For absolution and understanding. “You don’t owe me anything. When I see Kat—” He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. “She knew him. She’s hurting too. I never blamed her, or you.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Julio said clearly, firmly, as if to himself instead of Patrick. “I know that now, but I didn’t for a long time. So I think…I started out helping you as a—a favor to Ben. An apology. But you’re not an obligation anymore, Patrick. You’re a friend.”

His chest ached. “Yeah, I love you too, Mendoza. Now stop being so damn mushy, unless you want weeping groomsmen. I bet I could get Alec bawling.”

Julio grinned. “We could tell him his truck was stolen.”

“Tell him Kat upgraded all the software again.”

“Or bought him a new smartphone with voice-recognition technology.”

“No, then it’d be the rest of us crying every time he accidentally called us.”

“He’s married to my sister. I sure the hell don’t want him accidentally calling me at inopportune moments.” Julio picked up the velvet box that held Sera’s ring and turned it over in his hands. “I’m going to do this.”

“Yeah, you are.” For one moment, one weak, horrifying second, jealousy reared its head. Not at the spectacle or the rings or the legal documentation—Christ, the last thing he wanted in life was a paper trail—but that look in Julio’s eyes…

Joy. Possessive satisfaction. Anticipation. All the things that would be waiting for him in Sera’s eyes.

Love. There were worse things to want.

One more time.
Romance was in the air. Maybe he and Anna could dance, talk. See if that spark had a chance. If there was any woman in the world who could put up with him, it was her.

If she wouldn’t, he might spend the rest of his life being the guy everyone invited over for Thanksgiving because they knew he’d be alone.

It was a beautiful ceremony. The kind that made people crazy, judging by the furtive looks Patrick kept casting her way. Beautiful wedding ceremonies made people think of white picket fences and babies and living happily ever after.

Crazy.

Left to her own devices, Anna might have spent the reception hiding under the cloth-draped table in the corner, chatting with the bartenders as they passed down drinks. But the occasion called for polite socialization—plus Sera’s dad caught her on her way to the bar.

“Dance with me.” It wasn’t quite a command, but Franklin looked so serious she had to concede, folding her hand into the crook of his arm.

Anna smiled as he led her onto the dance floor. “Are you and Lily enjoying the party?”

“Last time I saw her, my girlfriend was hiding out with the groom’s sister.” He smiled as they turned, placed one awkward hand at her hip. “I wanted to thank you, Anna.”

“Thank me for what?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know you’re smarter than you want anyone to think.”

Anna laughed. “Fine, I’m brilliant. Still don’t know why you’re thanking me.”

He nodded to Sera and Julio, whose idea of dancing seemed to involve swaying back and forth with her head tucked under his chin. “You were her friend when she needed one, and you kept her safe when she couldn’t ask me.”

Only an asshole would have done any of that for gratitude or recognition. “It’s not a one-way thing. Sera’s been my friend too. In fact, you could argue I had the easier end of that deal.”

“Oh, could I?”

“Hey—believe it or not, I’m a bit of a jerk. Sera’s a saint for putting up with me.”

Franklin snorted. Loudly. “I know my daughter. She’s not a saint. And if you think I wasn’t checking up on both of you all this time…”

Anna hid her smile as they sidestepped two of the younger guests dancing awkwardly. “The truth comes out.”

“She’s my only kid.” Franklin steered her past Patrick, who watched them with dark, blank eyes. “I’m an overprotective shapeshifter father. I know how often you looked out for her. You’re a good egg, girl, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Everyone told her otherwise at some point or another, but he had no way of knowing that. “Understood.”

“Good. Now, the groomsman with all the tattoos is headed over here, looking like he wants to steal you. Should we foxtrot away?”

Anna covered her sudden breathlessness with another laugh. “On the contrary. I’m a good egg, and good eggs don’t run from confrontation.”

“They can run from bad boys, though.” But he spun her around, leaving her facing a surprised-looking Patrick, whose eyes widened when Franklin leveled a finger at him. “I’m watching you.”

When he was gone, Patrick held out one hand. “Am I going to get in trouble if I ask you to dance?”

“No.” He looked even more dangerous in a tuxedo than he did in beat-up jeans, like a big cat wearing a beribboned collar. Dress it up like a pussycat, but it would still rip out your throat. “Franklin was just singing my praises. Want to pick up where he left off?”

Patrick slid his hand to her hip—just low enough to be more than friendly, but not low enough to be an obvious come-on. “You’re gorgeous. The men of New Orleans need to thank Sera for putting you in a sexy black dress.”

The compliment nearly shocked her into silence as he drew her closer. “She let us pick them out, as long as they were the same color.”

“You look good.” He smiled and twirled her with surprising skill. “You clean up better than I do. Every time I walk by, the rich wolves hold on to their jewelry.”

All she’d noticed were the men holding on to their wives. “They don’t know what to make of you. Maybe none of us do.”

“I’m a mystery, huh?” When he pulled her toward him once again, his hand found its way to her lower back, fingers splayed wide and possessive. “You know what the funny thing is? People hardly ever ask me questions. Not real ones.”

He was touching her like he owned her, and she should have wanted to kick him in the balls for it. “Easy explanation? They know you won’t answer.”

“You so sure? Try me.”

Of all the mysteries surrounding him, the answer to one would tell her so much. “Why have you stayed in New Orleans?”

No quick response this time. No grin or easygoing laugh. They danced in a wide, slow arc before he tilted his head. “I don’t think anyone would miss me if I left. Maybe I’m so lonely, I don’t want to be forgotten.”

Something in her chest lurched, bringing with it a pain close to nausea. “It isn’t true, Patrick. If you left—you’d be missed.”

“When something happened to make someone think of me, maybe.” His voice roughened to a whisper. “No one would miss me because I’m a big part of their lives.”

“I would.” The words stung like razors, a pathetic admission of weakness. He could hurt her. He
had
—but not nearly as much as he could.

But Patrick just smiled at her. “Thank you.”

She smiled back before she could stop herself. “You’re welcome.”

“So ask me again.” His thumb smoothed over her back, up and down in a slow caress. “Why I haven’t left yet.”

Anna shivered. “I thought you already told me.”

“I thought of a new answer.”

It had the potential to change everything, and still Anna opened her mouth to form the question.

Before she could, Lily stepped up beside them. “Pardon the intrusion, but the bride and groom are about to make a run for it. Thought y’all might like to know.”

“Smart bride and groom,” Patrick murmured as he dropped his hand from Anna’s back. “So what does this entail? Throwing bouquets? Throwing rice? Throwing the guests at each other?”

“If we’re lucky, all three.” Then she could get back to throwing herself at Patrick.

Chapter Four

The reception took an unexpected—and ugly—turn as soon as Julio and Sera disappeared.

Patrick should have expected it. Julio’s groomsmen were mostly important shapeshifters, leaving the tattooed bounty hunter the odd man out. With the bride and groom gone, everyone interested in power turned their attention to unraveling the mystery of what made him special enough to stand among the leaders of the wolves.

He fielded three barely polite conversations while he watched Anna make her way around the reception hall. The questions were repetitive and easy to answer, in any case.

Are you related to one of the wolf families? No.

Do I know your parents from somewhere? Probably not.

Will you be working with the Southeast council? That’s up to Alec.

He excused himself before any of them got up the nerve to ask him what he was, but every time he thought he’d broken free, another stepped into his path.

The next time it happened, it was a well-coiffed blonde in a silver dress holding two glasses of champagne. “Are all the blatant questions wearing you down yet?”

“A little bit.” He accepted one glass and studied the woman more closely, trying to pin down the nagging familiarity. “Have we met?”

“I don’t believe so.” She held out a hand. “Olivia Ashworth.”

“Patrick McNamara.” Shaking her hand was the polite thing to do, but he was tired of the jolt he got each time he touched a wolf. Magic, clashing with his own, though his had been bound into tattoos rather than flesh. “So do you have subtle questions?”

“Will it disappoint you if I don’t?”

Relieve him was more like it. “Not hardly. We could talk about the weather.”

She laughed and shook her head. “My husband and I can’t wait to get back to DC. The heat and humidity are terrible here.”

“Better that than ice and snow, huh?” Maybe if he kept the conversation boring enough, she’d leave on her own. Patrick finally managed to catch Anna’s gaze across the room and raised both eyebrows.