Hidden Passions (Hidden, #7)(14)
No calls. No texts. No fricking two-word voicemails.
He'd called Chris four days ago. Just a: How are you, man? I've got that thing you were looking for. Get in touch if you still want it.
The message was the soul of discretion. He'd used no names and no lovey-dovey stuff. Chris could claim it was a wrong number if he wanted. Despite the consideration, Chris hadn't responded.
Could the fireman have forgotten what Tony sounded like?
No, no, no, Tony ordered when his restless hand reached for the drawer again. He'd sworn he'd call Chris once. Shifters didn't forget voices. If the tiger wasn't getting back in contact, he wasn't that into him.
Across the detective squad room, Carmine hung up his phone.
"Hey," he called in Tony's direction. "You free to ride with me to Elfyunk? I need to interview a shop owner."
Carmine was Tony's older cousin, a married wolf with two boys in high school. He outranked Tony but not by much. He had to ask the junior man to do things; straight out orders wouldn't work. Carmine's ride-withs tended to be boring. Important cases rarely fell to him. Carmine was as solid as a fireplug but not brilliant.
"I'll buy coffee," he said when Tony hesitated.
Tony relented. Carmine was a good guy, and Tony had lots of reasons to respect him. "Coffee's on me. As long as you tell a story from the old days."
"Oh I've got stories," Carmine promised. "Your IQ will go up ten points before I'm done with you." The older wolf rose and hitched up his pants. He didn't really have a belly. That wasn't a shifter thing. Sometimes, though, he used the mannerisms of a fat man.
Like it was nothing, Tony shut and locked the drawer with the burner phone.
"Ready," he said. He pushed up from his swiveling chair, grabbing his jacket along the way. A touch of his hand verified that his gun was secure in its side holster.
When he was close enough, Carmine slung his arm around Tony's shoulder. "You okay, kid? You've been quiet lately."
With a start, Tony realized Carmine didn't actually need him to come with. He was checking up on Tony. He was concerned.
"I'm good," he said, touched enough for his eyes to heat. "I've been practicing shutting up so you can dump all your experience on me."
"Dump!" Carmine exclaimed. "More like honor you more than you deserve."
Tony smiled as they took the stairwell to the precinct garage. It was at least five minutes before he thought about Chris again.
CHAPTER THREE
TONY didn't think it was right that Nate was calmer than him. Nate was getting married this afternoon. Tony was only the best man.
Nate and Evina's engagement had been brief. Barely a month had passed since the big party on his roof. The couple was sure about their feelings, and Nate wanted them to be official before the cubs' next parents night at school. He was comically excited about attending--in contrast to his I'm-too-cool-for-the-room demeanor over walking down the aisle.
The ceremony, once everyone had their tails on straight, was taking place in Tiger Park. Tony was keeping Nate company in the Groom's Pavilion, a fancy Indian-style building.
Unlike Wolf Woods--which was a private preserve for werewolves--the public had unrestricted access to Tiger Park. Today, the twentyish acres blazed with October color. The city's runners loved Tiger Park. It stretched along the North River, on the same side as Resurrection's downtown core. The paths were flat and shady, and the park's stray cat population kept it blissfully free of gnomes. Visitors who relished a slower pace could meditate in a peaceful garden honoring fallen firefighters. Most beloved by the city's children was a slightly inappropriate petting zoo.
It housed the sort of game wild tigers enjoyed eating.
The section of the park roped off for Nate's wedding included two enclosed pavilions, a banquet hall, and a nice grassy stretch for tents. Nate wasn't a tiger, but Evina had decided rather than exhaust the family savings hiring some swank hotel, they'd hold a less expensive, more eclectic celebration here.
The future Mrs. Nate was in the Bride's Pavilion, along with kids, mom, girlfriends, and some of her firefighters--one of whom in particular Tony tried not to think about. Nate would have had more of an entourage except for an unforeseen disaster involving marigold decorations inside the wedding tent. Rick, Adam, and Carmine had left to help sort it out. On the female front, their alpha's wife Ari had whisked their baby daughter to the petting zoo, in the hope that the antelopes would cure her fussiness.
Nate didn't seem to mind the general abandonment. He was dressed and ready, as sharp as a fashion plate in his close-fitting tuxedo. His trademark ponytail had a glass-like sheen only magic could account for. He knew he looked good. The long stretch of mirror in the dressing room had received his brisk nod of approval. His own fineness seen to, Nate turned his attention to Tony's lack of imposingness. Thus far, he'd redone Tony's bowtie, straightened his lapels, and refolded his pocket square.
Resigned to more of the same for the duration, Tony braced his hips on the back of the room's beat-up couch.
"Stop hunching," Nate scolded mildly as he tucked the now-perfect handkerchief where it belonged. "Don't you know how tall Evina's best man is? Do you want me to lose face in front of her tigers?"