Page 90 of The Wild Charge

Nikola Howard – who was on their list. One of the big-wig names Luis had given them…assuming that part of it was true.

Howard Models wasveryinterested in turning Raven’s agency into a London branch. Insistently interested. The woman harped again and again on the fact that they were so pleased with the groundwork Raven had already laid – her reasoning as to why they didn’t open a totally new branch from scratch.

“The Howard name carries far more weight than mine, even in London,” Raven had said.

But the agent had shaken her head, and lavished Raven with praise.

Then she brought up Raven’s star model, the new up-and-comer making a bold splash on the scene. She’d just landed the cover ofVogue, andVanity Fairwas clamoring for a turn next: Kyra Blacklock. She mentioned Kyra again, and again…and again.

“It’s not unusual to poach models. It happens. But Kyra’s contract is locked tight for the next three years.”

“So they wanted to buy the agency to get to her, specifically?” Eden asked.

“Possibly. But I’ve racked up quite the client list lately. There’s lots to choose from.” She slid her glass over, and Emmie refilled it. “She wheedled at me for two hours, but I gave her a firm no and saw her out. That was when the gifts started arriving.”

Spa gift certificates. Fancy face creams. Silk loungewear sets with matching slippers. Email after email. Phone calls she let her secretary field.

“When none of that worked…someone started following me.” Men in dark clothes and hoodies lurking near her Rover in the parking garage; the click of a camera shutter at the coffeeshop, where she whirled around to see a man hurrying away. Hi-res photos of herself began appearing in her mailbox – first at work, then at home. The last straw was a photo of her picking Cassandra up from school.

“Then that horrid American woman came back.” That time, her smiles had been sharp and vicious, predatory, and she’d not-so-subtly hinted that owning an agency in this cutthroat business could be dangerous. It looked like Raven was getting some unwanted attention, and perhaps it would be better – safer – if she sold.

“She threatened you?” Shane asked.

“Bitch,” Axelle muttered.

“Elegantly, but yes,” Raven said. “That was when I realized that Nikola Howard was the one having me followed. When Michelle called and told me you’d managed to get a list of names for your search, and that hers was on it–”

“Hold on,” Albie said. “Michelle called and filled you in?”

“We talk every other day. Of course.”

“The important thing, here,” Fox said, “is that Nikola Howard knows you’re connected to us.”

“Not necessarily,” Tenny said, speaking up for the first time since coming into the kitchen. The Scotch had put color in his previously pale cheeks, his eyes glittering aggressive; there was no mistaking the way he’d angled his body toward Reese’s where they stood at the far end of the island: he was ready to make himself a human shield for the other boy if he deemed it necessary. “Could be some wanker offered Abacus a sweet deal if they could get them Kyra Blacklock.”

“If an international supermodel goes missing, someone’s going to start asking questions,” Albie said.

“Oh, there’s ways around that,” Raven said, bitterly. “Remember Hillary Swinton? She OD’d last year? There’s rumors she didn’t. The friend who called the ambulance insists the doctors had her stabilized, and then, bam, two days later, she’s ‘dead.’”

Axelle’s eyes widened. “Wasn’t she working on that new thriller with Jesse Hesden? That’s a Jack Waverly production.”

“It sure is,” Raven said, pointing at her in agreement.

“So we think Waverly and his cabal are, what, running the whole world?” Albie asked.

“No, smartass,” Raven said, before Fox could. “But if they can ruin the Dogs, and anyone they care about, in the process of supplying the rich and famous with living sex dolls, I say every seeming coincidence isn’t a coincidence at all.”

“Exactly,” Fox said. “They know who we are,” he said, surveying the faces around him. “They know who our sisters are, which means they know our old ladies. They probably know where our bloody kids go to school, and how many smoke breaks we take at work.”

A particularly sharp gust of wind chose that moment to slam against the window above the sink with awhooshand acreeeeaaaakof the wooden frame.

Fox noted who jumped – Axelle, Emmie, Shane – and who didn’t: the rest of them.

Ice clinked in a glass as Reese took a long, slow sip of his drink.

“Charlie,” Raven said, “what happened tonight? Before you came here?”

“There was a drive-by at Smokey’s restaurant.”

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