Page 76 of The Wild Charge

“No clue. Reese said something about him being jealous.”

“This is a fine welcoming party,” a familiar voice called out, far too loud for baggage claim. Heads turned, and Fox took a moment to be amused by the way men’s jaws physically dropped when they spotted his sister striding toward them. Then he turned to the woman herself.

Raven shlubbed around her flat in Chanel sweatsuits and slippers, but out in public, she was alwayson. Today she wore a clinging, chocolate-colored dress and matching ankle boots with spike heels, a Burberry trench hanging open over it, tasseled scarf artfully loose around her shoulders. Gucci sunglasses and not a hair out of place, manicured hands with taupe nails towing her wheeled carry-on. She walked like she still worked the runway, the clip of her bootheels drawing every eye, her smile pleased.

Fox secretly thought that her presence, her carriage, her pride, all the things that had made her an elite model, and now a forceful presence in the business, were Devin’s genes shining through. That cockiness, that ability to work any room, and any situation to her advantage. He’d never told her this; probably she’d thought it herself, when she caught sight of her own blue eyes in the mirror.

Behind her, Cassandra – slighter, younger, fresh-faced and unpolished – skipped in excitement, head swiveling every direction so she nearly trod on the back of Raven’s shoes with her chunky Docs. She wore striped leggings under black cut-offs, and an oversized hoodie splashed with a print of a K-pop group Fox was too old to know the name of. Her hair had gotten longer since he’d seen her last, her face leaner: she was starting to look like a young woman and not the kid he’d always seen her as; it was a bit shocking, a bit worrying.

Damn, was that what fatherhood felt like? Turning around and watching the child you’d diapered try on prom dresses?

He shoved those thoughts aside, just as Raven reached them and wrapped him up in a tight, Chanel-scented hug. With her heels on, his face wound up pressed into her shoulder, and he wasnotbitter about it.

“Charlie, you demon.” She brushed a kiss to his cheek and then moved on to Walsh. “And here’s my favorite brother.” If Walsh’s face did something smug, Fox couldn’t see it around Raven’s coat, becausefuck you very much, King, but you’re even shorter, ha.

“Foxy!” Cassandra launched herself at him and he was forced to catch her or let her eat terrazzo. Her hair still smelled of coconut, like he remembered, but when she drew back, he noted eye shadow and rouge that definitely had been there last time.

“What’s on your face? What are you wearing?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’smakeup, Charlie. Everyone wears it.”

“Everyone grown up.”

“She’s seventeen,” Raven said, pulling back from Walsh, and propped her free hand on her hip. “Let the girl live. Or are you feeling a little extra paternal right now?”

Walsh smirked.

Fox smoothed his face and said, “Fuck you.”

Raven’s grin was sharp and very like his own – until her gaze shifted toward the two assassins leaning against the pillar. Before Fox could motion them over, Raven squared her shoulders and strode forward. “Hullo, Reese. Nice to see you again,” she said, without any of the teasing note she’d given Fox and Walsh.

“Hello.” He didn’t reciprocate, but stood quiet and big-eyed while she kissed his cheek.

Fox tried to catch Tenny’s eye, to remind him for the fifth time this morning not to be a complete asshole, but his attention was fixed on their sister. On the hand she extended.

“It’s Tennyson, isn’t it? It’s good to finally meet you.”

Fox had a distinct memory of Raven standing in the threshold of the room where they’d held Tenny at Baskerville, back when he’d just been Ten, silent and defiant, bound in enough chains to restrain a circus elephant. He’d had two black eyes, the blue of them livid in a schooled-blank face. He’d hated them. Hadn’t been a person then, still an attack dog whose masters had been killed in front of him.

But here stood Raven, using his new name, the name that he’d chosen for himself, offered to him by his favorite and most trusted person. She was giving him – them, really – a chance to start fresh, strangers meeting for the first time.

Tenny’s gaze raked over her, shrewd and unfriendly, but Raven didn’t waver. Finally, he accepted her handshake, a brief, polite press, and said, “Hi.”

Raven gave him her perfume billboard smile. “God, the cheekbones on you. If you ever decide you want to do commercials, give me a ring.”

“Down, girl,” Fox said.

“Hush, you. He’s too pretty to be wasted on heathens like the Dogs.”

Cassandra stepped up to Reese, then, head tipped to a shy angle, and, suddenly, Fox understood what he’d meant earlier byjealous.

“Hi, Reese.” She looked up at her one-time rescuer with nothing short of teenage adoration; he might as well have been one of the idols printed on her shirt given the way she blushed and fidgeted.

Reese’s expression softened; Fox thought he almost smiled. “Hi.” He was still awkward as shit, though; didn’t know the first thing about pleasantries and small talk.

Then Fox glanced toward Tenny and nearly laughed. He’d refolded his arms, after shaking Raven’s hand, had clutched them tight over his chest, and he glared at Cassandra like he wanted to set her on fire telepathically.

Jealous. Of a seventeen-year-old girl Reese had once evacced from a hostage situation.

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