When Will I See You Again (14 page)
Raoul shook his head and started to give the photograph back, but then he paused and took a second look. And then he began to frown, looking at it more closely. He glanced from the photograph to the chief and back again.
“I know him,” he said in a voice filled with something— confusion, anger, upset. Alexx couldn’t decide which emotion was dominant. Any or all of them. Raoul raised his eyes to the policeman. “What is his name?”
“According to his ID, his name was Louis.”
“Damn.”
With the utterance of that one simple word, Alexx began to think that things weren’t going to be as simple as he’d hoped.
Raoul stared into the face of the man he recognized as last night’s fuck and frowned. Try as he might, he could feel nothing for him—he’d simply been a means of scratching an itch, like all the others. He was sorry the man had died, although he would’ve been hard pressed to even remember his name had Jon not mentioned it. Without the photo, he couldn’t have begun to describe him or recall his features. If that made him heartless, then so be it, but he was no murderer. Was that why he was suspected in the matter of his death? Simply because he’d fucked him?
Coincidence, nothing more. Shit happened. He slid the photo across his godfather’s desk and narrowed his eyes. How did the police even know about the sex? Were they keeping tabs on him for some reason? Or was there something else they weren’t telling
him?
“This man is the one that I told you about, the one I admit to having sex with in my office. But he was very much alive when he left, and that was shortly before moonrise. What happened after that, I do not know. Maybe he found someone else and had more sex? And maybe that someone else killed him?” Raoul wondered just how detailed semen analysis was, assuming they’d used that to figure out that he’d been there. An uncomfortable thought, at best.
“How did he die?” Alexx asked.
Damn, why hadn’t he thought to ask that question himself?
Raoul glanced at Alexx. He’d pulled out his notebook—he was listening intently, ready to write, his pen poised against his lips.
Raoul stared at those lips, remembering the kiss in the cabin. The taste of Alexx was fresh in his memory. He brought one finger up to his own lips, almost experimentally, feeling the tingle once again.
Alexx darted an unexpected glance his way. Startled, Raoul dropped his eyes, his hand falling to his lap. This situation—or was it Alexx’s proximity—was playing hell with his usual shell of urbane indifference. He felt off-balance, and that was not a sensation he ever chose to indulge in.
“He was mauled,” Jon replied, somewhat tersely.
Raoul looked up at him in disbelief. “Mauled? What does that mean? Surely you’re not saying a wolf did this?”
“Much as I hate to say it, yes, that’s what I’m saying. We have reason to believe it was a werewolf that killed him.”
Raoul shook his head. “You know we’re not like that, Jon.
We’re not violent. Haven’t been in years. Ever since—”
“I know, I know.” The police chief held up one hand in an attempt to stem the barrage of words. “Ever since the tranq came
out. You don’t have to tell me, Raoul. I know how it was before. I lived through it, remember? I saw what it was like for your father, and for the whole family. I know better than even you do what the drug did for all of you, how it set you all free. You’ve always had it available to you, ever since you first began the change. But I guess your father’s told you all that. Your mother, too.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about it from both of them. Ad infinitum. So if you know that, then you also know not a single member of our family would ever stop taking it, for any reason. You most of all should know how it’s been drilled into us. We have to keep taking the drug. For as long as we live.”
“Have you taken yours today?”
Raoul flushed. “It’s still early,” he evaded the question. “And you’ve interrupted my schedule. I will take it, you know I will.
I’ve never forgotten, not once.” Under other circumstances, he would’ve barked at Jon that he was a grown man and well past needing a nursemaid. Considering the circumstances and where they were, it didn’t seem a prudent comment to make.
Jon frowned. He drummed his fingers against the wood of his desk, as if the answers would appear there if only he could pound them out. He looked down at the photo, and he looked back at Raoul.
“Sir, isn’t it possible someone wants to make it
look
like it was a werewolf attack when it wasn’t?” Alexx interjected himself into the conversation.
Raoul was quick to pick up on the lifeline Alexx had just tossed him. “Exactly. Someone wants to make you think one of us did it, even in the face of common sense that tells you none of us would.”
“You don’t understand, Raoul. It’s not just any wolf that’s being pinpointed. It’s you in particular. Why do you think you’re
here?”
“Me?” Growling, he leaned forward in the chair, eyes blazing, hands tightly gripping the armrests. “That’s what I’ve been wondering. Why
did
you bring me in? How did you know that I had sex with that man last night? There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
Jon slowly nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t just bring you in at random.” He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a plastic evidence bag, shaking the contents carefully onto his desk. “Ever see this before?”
Raoul’s frown deepened. “My phone. I was looking for that this morning. Where’d you find it?”
“Where’d you lose it?” Jon countered.
“In the woods. When I changed. The change came upon me so fast, I didn’t have time to undress. It must have fallen out of my pocket. Or what was left of it. But how did you get it?”
“That’s not where it was found.”
A niggling sensation began between Raoul’s shoulder blades and crept along his spine. He swallowed down the rising apprehension that tasted like bile in his throat. “Where did you find it?” he asked in a deceptively calm voice.
“It was near the body, I’m afraid.”
No, no, not possible, not possible.
Raoul’s grip on the armrests tightened. His arms rigid with suppressed anger. He felt, rather than saw, Jon’s eyes on him—he looked away, afraid to find any trace of accusation in his godfather’s expression. His head began to throb, his temple pulsed unmercifully. If he didn’t bring himself under control—and quickly—he was afraid he’d say or do something incredibly stupid. Something that would make him look even guiltier than he already appeared to be, which from where he
was sitting was saying a great deal.
His nerves already taut, he tensed even more when he caught movement from the corner of his field of vision. Poised for flight, he was taken completely by surprise when Alexx leaned toward him and lightly laid his hand on Raoul’s arm. At his touch, all of the built-up tension drained from Raoul’s body, and just that quickly the storm had passed. He slumped against Alexx, like a deflated balloon, and closed his eyes. By the time he opened them once more, he realized Jon was staring at him—or rather at them.
He glanced between him and Alexx, a speculative look upon his face. Before Raoul could correct his presumptions, Alexx spoke.
“The phone could’ve been planted,” he suggested. He made no move to meet Raoul’s gaze, but he never moved his hand, either, keeping a gentle grip upon his arm. Raoul could almost hear the beat of the other man’s heart—the knowledge both amazed and disconcerted him.
“That’s something I’ve considered,” Jon admitted. “And that’s the main reason why Raoul isn’t locked up. Are you willing to swear that he never left your side all night?”
If Alexx understood the inference in the police chief’s words, he didn’t show it. “I’m very willing to swear to that. It’s like I told you. After the attack, we took shelter in that little hut in the woods, and we were there together for the rest of the night.”
“Are you going to charge me?” Raoul’s voice came out hoarser than he’d intended. He leaned back in the chair, breaking the connection between them. While he still could. He fixed his eyes on his godfather, waiting for his response.
“I don’t want to, Raoul. But I also don’t want you leaving town. Much less the country.”
Raoul snorted. “Like I would? All right, let’s play this game.
What if I surrender my passport to you? Would that satisfy you that I have no intention of fleeing these trumped up charges? Think about it. My family is here. Everyone I know and—everyone I know,” he finished smoothly.
The chief looked skeptical, screwing up his face in thought. He continued to look between Raoul and Alexx, as if weighing his options.
“I ought to take the keys to that damn car of yours away. And make sure no one else around here will sell you another. I’m not going to even pretend I don’t know that you have ways of getting what you want, though, don’t you? It might be better off if I kept you here. If someone’s out to get you, setting you up, it might be safer for you.”
Raoul’s blood pressure began to spike. He half rose from the chair indignantly. “I will
not
stay here, and that’s that. I haven’t done anything and you damn well know it, Jon.”
“I know it, but can you prove it? I can’t be shown to play favorites because you’re my godson. You should know that better than anyone. If this were anyone else, you know you’d be in a cell already. I’m stretching the rules as it is.”
“How about if I vouch for him?”
At the sound of Alexx’s voice, both men turned toward him in amazement.
“What did you just say?” the chief asked.
Alexx licked his lips and took a deep breath before repeating, “Why not turn him and his keys over to me? I’ll be responsible for him. I’ll make sure he doesn’t leave Crescent Bay. Or the country.
I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“You will? You want to be responsible for Raoul? And see that he takes his medicine too? Are you sure about that?”
Alexx nodded. “Medicine, too.”
“What about protection?”
Both Alexx and Raoul stared at Jon now. Raoul was the first to realize his godfather was discussing his personal safety, and not whether or not he used a condom.
“Him? Protect me?” He threw back his head and began to laugh, an incongruous sound under the circumstances.
*
Alexx was a ninety-pound weakling compared to Raoul with his obvious brute strength—no pun intended. Alexx was a wannabe underage crime reporter who just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and who’d somehow managed to fall head over heels for Raoul Marchand.
At the word protection, Alexx’s mind traveled to the image of the naked Raoul and his beautiful cock. He imagined it sheathed in latex, and then he imagined it buried inside of him, pounding him into oblivion. His face turned twenty shades of red, a situation that was only aggravated when Raoul began to laugh.
Gathering every last ounce of his courage, he straightened in his chair, took a deep breath, and turned toward Raoul. “Stop it!”
he said sharply. “This is no laughing matter, Raoul!”
That seemed to take the other man by surprise. His laughter broke off in mid-yelp, and his gray eyes grew round.
“Is there something I need to sign?” Alexx asked the chief, as calmly as if he were discussing checking out a book from the public library. It seemed to him that the other man was concealing a smirk—and not very well—behind his hand as he shammed a cough. So he was Raoul’s godfather, was he? That explained a lot.
“I’ll, um, have something drawn up. It won’t take long. You might as well go out and sit in the waiting room.” He rose as he spoke, and Alexx realized they were being dismissed. He was almost afraid to look in Raoul’s direction. Just where had he gotten the balls to talk to him like that? And was he about to get them handed back to him?
To his surprise, Raoul lightly touched his arm, motioning toward the door. “Don’t take too long,” he growled at his godfather, but Alexx sensed there was no bite behind the bark. He meekly followed Raoul from the room, his momentary surge of dominance having fallen by the wayside. His eyes were drawn immediately to Raoul’s ass, watching the way his hips moved and his muscles worked inside the camel trousers, watching in such close admiration that he almost ran into him when Raoul stopped suddenly. He seemed to be doing a lot of that today. Alexx glanced up and saw the reason why. Standing in front of them was Foster Levine.
“Raoul, I just heard. Are you all right?” he asked in a voice laced with concern.
“What did you hear?” Without waiting for the reply, Raoul walked around the blond, Alexx trailing him. They passed into the waiting area. It was busier now than when Alexx had sat here,
people scattered about the room in small groups, talking amongst themselves. They paid the newcomers no attention. Raoul made no move to sit. Foster hastened to his side, virtually ignoring Alexx’s presence. He hung behind Raoul, feeling uneasy for no reason he could put his finger on.