Green-Eyed Envy by Kasey Mackenzie Read Free Book Online Page A

white smile that might have been worked on by good ole unassuming Simon. You definitely traded up on that one, Harp.
    Then I remembered how all had been brutally sliced and diced without regard for looks, finances, or loved ones who might mourn their loss, and scowled at the photos of Exes 4 through 6, the ones Trinity and I had deemed most at risk via an earlier teleconference. I was praying they could give me some new insight into the killer we were up against. Barring that, hopefully Scott could get a feel for which of his Shadowhounds would make the best security fit for each.
    “You casting for a porno flick, or what?”
    I blinked and looked up to see Scott smirking at me as he eased his siren red sports car (clichéd but oh-my-godssexy) into a parking space at the top level of a garage I hadn’t noticed us enter. He saw my confusion and nodded at the glossy photos spread across my lap.
    “Oh hardy har, Murphy.” I fought back a flush since my thoughts hadn’t been too far from his line of thinking. Stuffing the photos back into a manila folder, I glanced around to orient myself. The open-roofed parking garage clued me in to the fact we’d left Boston proper and found our way out to the ’burbs. Or as ’burb-like as it got in the metropolitan area surrounding Beantown. “Meritton Enterprises?”
    Scott nodded. He pocketed his keys and climbed out of the Ferrari with surprising grace, considering how big he was in comparison to the delicate-looking car. I pushed the passenger door open and leapt up to do the same, only to stumble as my knee buckled. White-hot pain licked its way from the center of my knee outward, and I cursed, long and low. Scott was at my side in an instant, concern on his face, but he caught one look at the fury in my eyes and wisely kept his hands—and sympathy—to himself.
    Every damn time I start to think this blasted knee is getting better . . . But Gianna, the Oracle who saved me from certain death months before, had warned that just wasn’t going to happen. I’d used magic to seal myself away from agonizing pain during a fight with evil cloned Sidhe—once thought extinct—in order to save Scott’s life, rather than channeling magic through my Amphisbaena to heal the wound then and there. Because of that not-so-little choice, magic masked the pain for a time while the injury grew exponentially worse during the rest of that fight for life. Scott’s sister, Kiara, a Warhound who specialized in magical poultices and remedies, kept me stocked with spell-worked bandages and creams to hide the pain and allow me to function despite the ravaged knee. But her remedies seemed to be fading, and more and more, I found myself turning to alcohol to take the edge off. What was I going to do if that stopped helping? Move from Jack and Coke to just plain coke?
    No, it’s just the stress you’re under. I gritted my teeth and rolled my eyes. Not even I could believe my halfhearted protestations anymore. If things kept going like this, I was going to have to break down and crawl back to Gianna for another opinion. I might be stubborn as hell, but I wasn’t stupid.
    But time enough for that later. Right now, I had a serial killer to bring down.
    I cleared my throat and brushed nonexistent dust from my dark blue jeans. With my promotion to Head of the MCU had come the need to blend in with mortals on occasion, rather than my usual shock and awe routine with the Fury getup. Today I’d opted for dressy jeans, a deep blue blouse, and mortal form for the planned day of interviewing Harper’s exes. No sense in scaring the shit out of everyone until absolutely necessary.
    My cell phone buzzed inside my jeans pocket. I took it out and checked the number. Unknown caller, so back inside the pocket it went so I could focus on the task at hand. They’d leave a voice mail if it was important.
    Scott steered the conversation away from my near fall. “Meritton’s expecting us?”
    I nodded. “Yeah, Trin