Hidden Passions (Hidden, #7)(29)

"You're 'The One,'" Carmine teased. "You're supposed to warn some chickie she's in danger."

Rick swore he didn't know who the faerie meant. Maybe he thought he was telling the truth, but the more he denied it, the less Tony believed him. He'd known his brother all his life. He'd learned to tell when Dudley Do-Right wasn't being completely frank.

~

Tony didn't see much of Rick over the next two days. He knew his brother was working the fae-on-fae homicide but not the details. Adam knew what he was doing. Rick had called in and spoke to him. Nate had an assignment too, tracking down a professor at City U. No one seemed to remember Tony had been right beside Rick when the case began. No one seemed to think he deserved to be kept informed.

Sometimes, being the pack's omega sucked.

Part of why the exclusion ticked him off was that he'd have preferred to stay busy. He'd spent way too many free minutes checking the news for fire stories.

Today he was off, which he'd normally have enjoyed--especially since it was Sunday. His parents were great cooks, and they loved to spoil their youngest with a big breakfast at their house. Handily enough, they lived in the next brownstone over across the street. Admitting he was gay hadn't changed the habit, though he did have to put up with extra hand patting from his mom. She tried not to say it, but he knew she worried about his future. She wanted him to be happy. She'd been hoping for more grandkids.

This Sunday, his folks weren't in Resurrection. They'd won a trip for two to Oceana on a cruise submarine. They'd been over the moon excited, this being their first journey out of the Pocket they'd been born in. Tony was glad for them, just sorry for himself.

He contemplated inviting Ari and baby Kelsey to join him on a trip to the park. That idea appealed for about a minute. Hoping his alpha's wife would rescue him from his doldrums seemed selfish. He should offer her his company when he knew he could be pleasant.

He could spend the day cleaning his apartment, but that prospect was too dreary. He wouldn't be doing it for himself. He was fine with its current state.

Comfort was Tony's goal for his home, and to his mind, he'd achieved it. Found furniture was his favorite, the more dinged up the better. Making something broken useful was a hobby he found soothing. Maybe he didn't finish every project right away, but why should a source of pleasure become a chore? So what if the result was messy? A person could put their feet up anywhere without fear. Well, assuming they found room for their feet. His stray magazines did overrun everything a bit. This didn't mean Rick was right in claiming the place ought to be condemned. Tony had a good nose. He threw out old food before it stunk up the joint.

When he spotted his ElfBook sitting on a stack of newspapers on the coffee table, he knew exactly how to entertain himself.

Once he'd shoveled half the sofa clear, Tony sat on the leather cushion sideways. Ignoring the inner nudge that said this wasn't a good idea, he propped the laptop on a pillow his sister Maria had cross-stitched with a straggly wolf in high school. A couple of key pecks later, he'd typed "Chris Savoy" into Oogle's FindThis! window.

The popular search engine offered up three results. The first was a record of Chris's graduation from the Fire Academy. He'd trained in the same class as Nate's wife, and both had earned top honors. The accompanying grainy picture showed Chris with his brawny arm around his future boss's much more petite shoulder. He was leaning toward the camera to bring their heads level. Possibly they'd already decided to work together. Their smiles were broad and happy, their body language totally connected. Chris in particular looked younger.

Almost carefree, Tony thought.

He realized his fingertip was stroking Chris's expression through the screen.

Shaking that off, he clicked the second link. That sent him to a website listing Mayor's Medal honorees. Chris had been awarded his for saving a bunch of kids from a school bus that careened off a bridge and into a lake. He'd done this without the aid of his crew. He'd simply been driving by and saw the accident. With no regard for his own safety, he'd dived into twenty meters of black water. While underwater, he'd shifted into his tiger form, using his teeth and back legs to peel the bus's side off like a tin can. Most of the kids were shifters and mixbloods. They'd swum out on their own as soon as they weren't trapped. Chris had saved the three remaining riders with CPR, including the werebear driver.

Tony assumed he'd done that in his human shape.

"Wow," he marveled. Tigers were tough, but this story was amazing. No wonder Chris was committed to his job. Tony could hardly imagine the rescuer's high you got from a day like that.

He sat thinking about the story: how Chris could be so brave in one situation and so cautious in another. People weren't simple, that was for sure. Also, what did it mean that a virtual superhero was attracted to a low-ranking wolf like him? Was it flattering? Crazy? Or maybe it was proof that Chris was out of Tony's league. At least it suggested Tony's instinct for who was worth sleeping with was good.

Tony grinned to himself. Maybe that was his superpower.

The second link digested, Tony glanced at the final result Oogle had delivered. If he hadn't known the search engine was magically enhanced for relevance, he wouldn't have bothered to click on it. The date was nearly thirty years ago.

Maureen Savoyard Death Ruled a Suicide, it said.