Hidden Crimes (9 page)

To his dismay, she seemed familiar. Women
weren’t so mysterious that he didn’t know
ever
having hooked
up with Evina’s mother would be extremely bad.

His heart lurched when she cocked her head to
the side. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t believe so,” he said as Evina
quietly sighed
oh God
.

“I do,” the woman insisted. “You bought a
baby blanket in my shop just the other day. Elf-spelled in white
velvet.”

“Oh,” he said, the strength of his relief
shocking him. “Yes. Rita’s Treasures on Tenth Street.”

Evina’s mother offered him her elegant long
hand. “I’m Rita, of course.”

“Nate Rivera,” he returned automatically.

She kept her hold on his hand, not flirting
so much as not letting him get away. “I trust the present was a
success.”

“Very much so. My alpha’s wife loved it.”

“Your alpha’s wife.” Rita’s slight smile
deepened. “So . . . you have no children yourself?”

Nate fought a smile of his own. He rather her
liked her playing the mother card, checking him out for her
daughter. “No children, no wife.”

“Ah,” she said, “and you such a handsome
man.”

“He’s a handsome
wolf
,” Evina broke in
sharply. “I think even your plate is a little full for that
adventure.”

Rita’s expression was startled for a second,
after which it turned delighted. “Oh darling, that’s sweet of you,
but I wasn’t vetting him for me.”

Evina’s cheeks turned the red of Nate’s
favorite pie filling. Seeing mortification had struck her
speechless, her mother took pity. She dropped his hand to give her
daughter a quick hug. Then she undid whatever good she’d
accomplished by whispering that she was glad Evina was finally
letting herself have fun.

“It wasn’t fun!” Evina said. “I mean—”
Flustered again, she shot Nate an apologetic look. “You were
wonderful of course, but, Mom, I’m helping him on a case.”

“A case?” Concerned, Rita turned her gaze to
him. “Are you the reason my daughter came in late last night?”

“I’m afraid I am, though she wasn’t in any
danger. In truth, both of us were hoping
you
might be of
assistance . . .”

UNABLE to resist the one-two punch of Nate’s
charm and Evina’s determination, Rita Mohajit agreed to set up a
meeting with her producer friend later that evening. She made Nate
promise he wasn’t endangering her baby girl. Nate gave his word
solemnly, endeared by Rita’s behavior. Evina was less
enthralled.

“Mom,” she finally said. “You do remember
what I do for a living.”

“Of course,” her mother soothed, bending
slightly to kiss her cheek. “But this is different. This could
involve criminals.”

Her walk as she departed was a different
kettle of sexy from her daughter’s. Nate would have bet good money
Rita had been practicing being slinky all her life. Her sway in her
high-heeled sandals was too deliberate. Being who he was, Nate
admired the performance. Evina’s crew appeared to as well. More
than one male nose twitched at the trail of tigress and patchouli
Rita left behind her.

“You can pull your tongue back into your
mouth,” Evina said sourly.

Nate grinned, happier with her than he could
explain. “When you get snippy, it makes me want to kiss you.”

“Snippy!” The way she pursed her lips
suggested she was remembering kissing him. That was fair, he
thought, since he was doing the same thing.

The next order of business was bringing Evina
to meet Nate’s favorite street artist. They argued over taking one
car or two, but Nate’s Goblinati was more reliable. Converted
Outsider cars like her Camry never ran on ambient energy as well as
those that were built for it.

“Stop smirking,” she demanded from the
passenger seat, where he’d been appreciating how nice she looked
with her legs curled up. “It’s not a sign of weakness to do
something sensible.”

“Should I offer to let you drive?”

“I’m not as good as you,” she grumped. “I’d
be terrified of scratching your paint job.”

Nate showed respect for her honesty by
letting a short silence pass. Then, because the rebel wolf inside
him couldn’t leave well enough alone, he asked the question that
was needling him. “Tell me, Evina, are you always this bad-tempered
after a nice quickie?”

“Yes,” she retorted. “My crew is constantly
warning me I’d better not get laid.”

This was so silly both of them had to
laugh.

Nate reached out to rub her thigh. For just a
second, she put her hand over his. Brief though the contact was, it
finished calming them.

It occurred to Nate that they were reacting
to each other like they were pack.

That idea shut him up until they reached the
not quite legal street market under historic Irving Bridge. The
cast iron bridge marked the boundary of a thriving artist’s
district. Some tables sold junk, others genuine finds. The vendors
were a mix too, from barely scraping by to commanding thousands at
galleries. Dave Redfield was at the upper end. He set his booth up
here every Monday so as not to lose touch with the community who’d
inspired him to begin with.

Ironically, considering his name, Redfield
was a blue elf, his skin an indigo so dark it was nearly black. The
best way to tell it wasn’t was to compare the color with his ebony
waist-length dreads. His ice blue eyes added to his striking
appearance, as did his high cheekbones. Built on more solid lines
than most elves, who could be ethereal, the pointy ears he sported
declared the purity of his blood.

Nate liked him even better for not being
snooty about his lineage.

“Nate,” he said, rising from a cheap beach
chair to swing out a hand to him.

Nate gripped the dark blue mitt and then
bumped knuckles, their personal manly greeting. “Dave. I’m hoping I
can introduce you to a new friend of mine.”

“Always happy to meet a beautiful
female.”

“Oh boy,” Evina said, though she was smiling.
“I see why you two get along.”

Dave looked from her to Nate. “Both of you
are wearing serious auras. Something tells me you aren’t here to
admire paintings.”

His latest creations hung on makeshift
pegboard walls that angled in a squared
U
behind him. One
had already caught Nate’s eye—a picture of this very bridge at
night with a pair of moonlit gargoyles poised on its railing, their
wings lifted for the moment of taking flight. The simplicity of
Dave’s style made the image charming and spooky at the same time,
as if Chagall and Grandma Moses were smoking faerie dust
together.

“Not today,” he admitted regretfully. “I’m
hoping you can do me an under-the-table semiofficial police
favor.”

Dave burst into a laugh. “Under the table
and
semiofficial. That sounds like you to me.”

Nate put his hand on Evina’s shoulder. “My
friend saw something psychically, a child we think might have
disappeared. We can’t confirm that until we have a picture to go
with what she saw.”

“I can do that,” Dave said, his handsome
features falling back into graver lines. “Why don’t we step into my
office?”

His “office” was the space between his rear
pegboard wall and a pier of the old iron bridge. He’d stretched
lengths of fabric across clotheslines to give him privacy from the
bargain hunters and sightseers. Weeds grew from the uneven ground,
but the broken glass and clutter were cleared away. With a flourish
that reminded Nate elves were related to royalty, Dave opened
another folding beach chair for Evina. He set it at a small
paint-caked table.

The elf looked down at her as she sat
gracefully, the dappled light underneath the bridge making quite a
picture of her. Evina was feminine yet fierce, sexy but natural,
her catlike curiosity overruling her slight shyness. She seemed
simultaneously vulnerable and imposing. Nate didn’t think he’d ever
met a woman whose contradictions fascinated him so much. To his
irritation, he wasn’t sure Dave had either.

Obviously dazzled, the blue elf pulled out a
sketchpad and sat across from her. “You can come back and pose
anytime.”

Evina’s hand flew up to her curly hair.
Unbeknownst to her, Nate had used his shifter speed and dexterity
to arrange it in a flattering French braid. She looked even
prettier than she suspected. “Oh,” she said. “That’s . . . very
nice of you.”

Redfield’s chuckle was low and male. “What’s
nice is watching my old friend glare daggers over you.”

~

Was the good looking elf serious? Was Nate
glaring daggers
, as he put it? She didn’t look, as this
might indicate more interest than she wished to betray. Nate
certainly knew fascinating people. Shifters didn’t always make
friends beyond their own kind. She knew the thought that Nate was
jealous shouldn’t have gratified her. The last thing she was
looking for was that sort of relationship. Possessiveness was not a
tiger ideal.

Unsettled, Evina pushed her tunic’s sheer
sleeves to her elbows. She jumped when Redfield put his ink-blue
hand on her bare forearm.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m going to read you
lightly while you tell me what you saw. It’s a check and balance
between what I picture at your words and what you actually
perceived. It’ll help me bring the sketch alive.”

Evina had never had her mind read before.
Elfin magic was a step down in power from that of the fae, but
elves had lots of mojo compared to weres. This made sense when you
thought about it. Faeries and elves were cousins.

“Um,” she said, “are there confidentiality
ethics elves follow?”

“There are,” he said, “and you can count on
me to only read what’s relevant.”

She looked up at Nate, who nodded. She didn’t
know Nate that well, but she supposed she trusted his judgment.
They wouldn’t have been here if he hadn’t trusted hers.

“Okay,” she said. “Have at it.”

Whatever Dave did, she didn’t feel a thing.
She went through the story as she had for Nate, her memory of the
happy little boy being smothered bringing a chill to the warm
bright day. When she’d finished, Dave turned the sketchpad around
for her to see.

She gasped, her hand flattened to her chest.
He’d caught the child exactly, right down to his “I’m Tricky!”
striped T-shirt. “That’s it. That’s exactly what I saw.”

The elf’s pale eyes were sad enough to give
her goose bumps. “I didn’t put in the room,” he said, turning his
face to Nate. “I thought that might be a detail you wanted to hold
back.”

“It is.” Nate touched the picture’s edge. He
shivered like she had. “This helps. Thank you.” He shook the elf’s
hand as he had before, though this time their knuckle bump was
slower.

“If you can,” Dave said, “tell me how this
turns out.”

~

Their moods were thoughtful as they returned
to the car. Nate’s tie was still loose from her yanking it for
their quickie, and he’d rolled his cuffs halfway up his arms. With
his hands thrust into his pockets, he made the dishabille look
impossibly fashionable. Evina got a shock from noting the tiny
holes her claws had left in his dark silk shirt.

Somehow, Nate made even that stylish.

She got into his sports car in silence,
wishing she could think of a reason to extend her time with him.
That was childish; she needed to get back to work in case a call
came in. All the same, she couldn’t deny his company was pleasant.
Riding in his Goblinati was pleasant too: the sunshine, the warm
breeze, his expert hands on the wheel. There was something
fundamentally girly about letting a man drive her.

“We could get coffee,” he suggested at the
first red light. He sounded as tentative as she felt.

Reluctantly, Evina shook her head. “I
shouldn’t leave Liam to fill in for me too long.”

“Liam is the big Irish guy?”

“That’s one way to describe him. He didn’t
harass you about seeing me, did he?”

Nate smiled, private amusement glinting in
his eyes. “Only enough to prove he valued you.”

“Christophe is my usual backup. He astral
projects as well as I do.”

“Christophe is the one in the hospital.”

“Yes.” She watched Nate’s right hand spin the
wheel as he made a turn. His fingers were a lovely toasted color
and very elegant. She struggled not to recall the feel of them
gripping her bottom. “You’re good at remembering details, aren’t
you?”

Nate flashed his killer grin. “Part of my
job, sweetheart.”

Evina was willing to bet it was more than
that. Nate had a good brain between his ears.

He exited the neighborhood side streets for
River Drive—not exactly a short cut but more scenic. Evina watched
a pleasure boat cut a wake through the green water. The extra
glitter around its passengers told her faeries were aboard. Faeries
were the city’s biggest celebrities, like royalty and rock stars
rolled into one. Though she was no gossip junkie, Evina couldn’t
help wondering what this group was up to.