A Righteous Kill (38 page)

Hero narrowed her eyes. Had he just emphasized the word
goat
?

“No, thank you.” The thought of eating goat
anything
made her nauseated.

“I’ll take one, if you please.” Father McMurtry intersected the waiter and helped himself before turning to Hero as he took a bite.

Where had he come from? She hadn’t even seen him come in. Hero summoned a warm smile for him, as well, feeling like she may be running out of those before the night was over. “Father, how kind of you to come!” She opted not to offer him a hug as he was busy with chewing and brushing crumbs from his cassock. “Did you bring Father Michael with you?”

Father McMurtry’s blue eyes smiled at her, and he gestured over to the curator’s table by the door with the second half of his goat cheese
hors d’oeuvre.
“He’s paying for our purchase, dear. Congratulations on the success of the exhibit.”

As long as she didn’t look at the black cassock, her heart maintained its usual rhythm. Mostly. “Thank you! But really you were under no obligation to buy anything.”

“Aye, well, he was taken with that rather… creative piece you did of the virgin Mary.”

Hero’s eyes widened. If he was talking about the piece she thought he referred to, then he was going home with a mash-up of the more traditional renderings of the blessed virgin and an ancient Irish figure called the
Sheela na gig
. Basically, it was the Mother of God with her legs splayed while she held open her exposed labia for inspection.

She’d meant it to be somewhat ironic, excusing the piece because many old churches in Ireland had a depiction of the very same over their doors and carved into their walls. But still, staring straight into the eyes of the man who’d christened her as a baby, she couldn’t suppress a blush.

“Oh… well…um…”

“Luca, my boy, it’s good to see you again!” Father McMurtry shoved the rest of the treat in his mouth, wiped his fingers on his napkin, and eagerly shook Luca’s hand.

Hero tilted her head at them in confusion.
My boy?
She’d heard all about their interviews before and after the symbol had been left on her wall and from what she understood, Father McMurtry was still very much a person of interest. Yet Luca’s smile seemed genuine as he shook the Priest’s hand.

“
Padre
.”

A little shiver of pleasure made its unbidden way through her bones. Though Luca didn’t usually have an accent to speak of, whenever he said a Spanish word, his tongue rolled deliciously over the more vibrant consonants of his native language. It never failed to make her entire body come alive and take notice.

“Any luck finding out who was responsible for that unfortunate symbol, Hero, my dear?” Father McMurty asked sympathetically.

Hero looked to Luca to answer, unsure of what she was supposed to say.

“Yes,” Alec chimed in. “It’s been on my mind all week, Agent Ramirez, since you consulted me about it.”

Father McMurtry’s head owlishly swiveled on his neck toward the professor. “And who are you that he would consult you about such a thing?”

The condescension in his voice surprised Hero. Father McMurtry was usually a kindly, easy-going man. “Father McMurtry, this is Professor Alec Graham. He’s an expert in the field of history, theology, and iconography.”

“You must be the religious expert Luca mentioned.” Alec held out his hand.

Father McMurtry took it, but his shake was brief and much less friendly than the one he’d given Luca. “Hmmm,” he said aside to Hero. “Has the look of an atheist about him.”

Alec nodded and shrugged at the same time.

Puzzled by the complex undertones she read in this strange interaction, Hero was relieved to see Father Michael hurry up to their little group in brisk, excited strides.

Luca tensed beside her, and his hand slid to the small of her back.

“Hero, look what I just bought.” He reached into the gallery’s designer bag and pulled out the Virgin Mary/
Sheela na gig
. The veiled head of the sculpture looked pious and thoughtful, her downcast lashes a suggestion of contemplative prayer, though her spread thighs and the position of her hands suggested something else, entirely. “That’ll get some attention at church, wouldn’t you say?” He wagged his light eyebrows at her, though his smile dimmed when his eyes flicked to Luca.

“Undoubtedly.” Hero’s own smile felt tight and uncomfortable at the realization that she was currently surrounded by Luca’s top three candidates for John the Baptist. Her smile beamed from one man to the next, wondering all the while if one of them wanted her dead.

God, this was horrible.

It was Chloe who became her unlikely savior. “All right, girl. Game on! Club Françoise it is, after tonight I’m ready to get my grind
on
.” She bumped Hero’s hip with hers before noticing the particulars of the crowd. Her chocolate eyes widened at the priests, especially as Father Michael stood frozen with the somewhat vulgar statue in his hand. “
Nofuckinway
, you bought
that
?”

Father Michael inspected it with a nonchalant shrug. “Why not? These symbols are both synonymous with the Irish Catholic church. I think it demonstrates as sense of… diversity and history, don’t you?”

Chloe’s eyes darkened at Father Michael with unconcealed feminine interest, and Father McMurtry’s lip curled with disgust as he took in the woman’s choice of wardrobe.

Father Michael seemed not to notice as, even though he’d been addressing Chloe, he hadn’t glanced away from Hero. The earnest admiration in his soft eyes now made her uncomfortable, as did the slight tremor in his hand as he tucked the statue away in its plush protective bag. Damn, she never used to notice that kind of thing before.

Oblivious to all of this, Chloe turned to face her and Luca after a flirtatious “hello” and a wink up at Alec. “You bringing this sexy new man of yours?” she asked brashly, sweeping Luca from head to toe. “He looks like he could wreak some destruction on a dance floor.”

Hero giggled in spite of herself, and glanced up at Luca who looked half-pained and half-flattered.

“I don’t know about destruction.” His dimple appeared. “But I’ve been known to do a
little
damage.”

“Well, you kids enjoy yourselves tonight.” Father McMurtry kissed Hero on the cheek, his lips and skin dry and clean against her skin.

Hero breathed in his familiar scent and truly smiled at him for the first time that night. He fondly patted Luca on the back as he cleared a pathway through them all with his cane. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

They all stalled and blinked at him awkwardly, unsure of what to say.

Father McMurtry’s silver hair glinted in the flattering overhead light as he turned back to them with a bit o’ mischief sparkling in his eyes. He chuckled as though vastly amused with himself. “Little priest humor there.”

Hero let out a breath and then joined their relieved laughter.

Father Michael pressed her arm gently. His hands felt cold and clammy against her over-warm skin and goosebumps erupted once more. “Congratulations again,” he murmured.

She nodded a thank you and watched them leave with a troubled frown.

Luca leaned down from behind her, his warm breath tickling her neck. “Don’t think about it,” he whispered. “I’m here. You’re safe. Enjoy your night.”

His words released the constant ball of anxiety that had taken residence in her stomach and she sighed a bit and allowed herself to lean against him. Problem was, she could feel the tension corded in his own muscles. Could see the wariness every time she looked into his eyes. The knot tightened once more as she saw the expression on Alec’s face. He wasn’t looking at her, but over her shoulder. If she had to hazard a guess, it was Luca’s own eyes he stared at so intently. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Just stood there for a few seconds with a completely fathomless look in his eyes.

Hero was afraid for the wine glass he held in a death-grip as she felt Luca’s lips brush the nape of her neck. “You ready to get out of here?” He threw some extra silk into his voice.

“I know
I’m
ready,” Chloe said.

Stef wrapped Chloe in a hug and they hung on each other for a moment of glee now that the night was mostly over. “Let’s do this,” he goaded. “These high-heels will only last so many hours.”

“See you around, Professor,” Luca said casually.

Alec seemed to be pulled out of his trance, and he nodded at Luca.

“Later.” Hero waved.

As she allowed Luca to lead her away, she thought she heard Alec’s low voice.

“Goodbye, Hero.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' the sea,

that you might ever do nothing but that.”

~William Shakespeare, The Winter’s Tale

And she’d been afraid she wouldn’t have fun. Two hours and three Irish Car Bombs later, Hero was swimming in a happy haze of her father’s people’s finest contribution to the human race. Guinness, Irish cream, and Irish whiskey.

“Have you ever noticed that the more I drink, the straighter I get?” Stef slurred into her ear as he handed her a drink. “See that
gorgeous
woman over there in the lime-green leggings? I’m taking her home… I’m going to lose my
girlginity
to her. To both of them, because right now there are two.” He held up
three
fingers, counting his thumb.

Hero searched the bodies lit by strobes, color, and writhing to a mash of music she and her friends had just dubbed “electro-techno-gangsta-voodoo-blues.” She found Stef’s conquest with almost no trouble. “I—don’t think that’s a woman.”

“Really?” Stef swiveled around on unsteady legs to squint closer. “What makes you say that?”

Hero laughed. “Well, for one ‘she’ has two lumps that a woman should not, and one of them is an Adam’s apple.”

Stef collapsed against her. “Oh, thank God. I’m too old to be sexually confused again. I barely survived the first time. How come I didn’t notice that?”

Shrugging, Hero looked down into the caramel-colored liquid shot in her hand. “What’s this?”

“Bourbon,” Stef clicked his glass to hers. “This is fake Mardi Gras, girl, you’ve been drinking like its St.
Practice
day.”

Hero tossed the sweet drink back and enjoyed the burn. She didn’t usually drink whiskey made on this side of the Atlantic, but
when in Rome
, and all that happy horseshit.

Stef grabbed her hand. “We’ve all been standing around talking too much, let’s go shake something
loose
.”

Hero turned to Vince who was chatting up Chloe. The woman seemed ready to make him her stripper pole in one more drink. “I’m going to dance with Stef,” she yelled over the music. Most of their group had already hit the dance floor, except— “Where did Luca go?”

Vince motioned toward the bar with a meaningful wink. “He went to get Chloe and me another drink.”

Hero was smiling when she rolled her eyes. Luca was nothing if not a consummate wingman. “Thoughtful,” she teased, scanning the bar.

She saw Talia Malone’s fake blonde highlights first, and knew the tall, broad shadow she was using the crush of the crowd as an excuse to press her tits against was Luca.

“Uh oh,” Vince winced.

“I could pop her implants with my plastic olive pick,” Stef offered.

Hero put on a very wide, fake smile, mostly for Chloe’s sake.

I’m not your boyfriend, Hero.

She took Stef’s bourbon from his hands and finished it in one swallow. “Let’s go dance,” she rasped.

“I don’t have to tell you to stay on the edge of the crowd where we can see you and you can see us.” A thread of steel laced with Vince’s casual tone.

“Roger that!” she waved.

They wound their way to the glittering particle board floor surrounded with pillars and picked a spot halfway between the tables and the speakers. She usually liked to get lost in the crowd. She loved the crush of bodies, the anonymous movements, passing from one dance partner to the next in a wicked parody of something she’d never dare do. The edge was fine, though. Lil’ someone-or-other was telling her to ‘get low’ and she was more than happy to oblige.

Hero was born with almost no performance talent. She couldn’t act to save her life, she couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but if she could do anything, it was
dance
. She let the thrum of the beat overtake the fibers of her muscles and her movements were barely her own. They belonged to the rhythm. She refused to look at the bar, back to the table, or anywhere but the DJ booth where an intricate lightshow synchronized with the music to create some very cool ambiance. The music seamlessly transitioned from remixed R&B to something that sounded more like The Bayou-meets-the-Latin-Quarter.

Stef smacked her ass before wandering toward his lime-legged ‘lady.’ Hero didn’t mind, she was in full Mardi Gras mode now, a part of the writhing, grinding, sweaty mass of bodies performing the ‘vertical expression of a horizontal desire.’

She lost count of how many bodies brushed against hers, how many hands found her skin, or how the hot spread of her increasing buzz numbed her ability to truly feel any of it.

Until a warm body connected with hers from behind.

Instantly her soul came alive. The funk she’d drifted through the past couple of days didn’t just lift, it was singed away by the arc of pure, electric energy sparking between them. Hero’s lips parted and her eyes closed as the scent enveloping her told her exactly whose strong hands fitted her ass snuggly against him.

“Teaches me to take my eyes off you, even for a second,” Luca purred in her ear. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“I wasn’t sure you could keep up,” she challenged breathlessly.

His purr turned into a growl as his big hand flattened against her belly, pulling her harder against him as his body undulated into a sexy hip swivel that took her on a sensual ride through the music.

“
Never
worry about that,
me encanta
.” His body drove her movements. His knees nudged her thighs to bend, his hips moved against hers in an alternating slow and fast rhythm that made her head spin. His hands were everywhere as she caught his vibe and their bodies moved as though they were already joined.