Page 156 of Nothing More

Raven nodded. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Six months ago, I would have told you that all these organizations are the same: criminals doing criminal shit for the hell of it. But.” Her mouth quirked sideways. “Now…the Dogs are different. They have – I dunno, they have this code. I know lots of people would argue with me, and say they’re rotten–”

“I’m not ‘lots of people.’”

“Yeah. I know.” Quick smile, and then back to serious. “The bratva isn’t like the Dogs. I don’t know this Mikhail guy…but I know he’s nothing like the guys Toly’s spent all his time with ever since he joined the Dogs.”

“You think he’s out of practice?” Raven asked. “That he’s softened?”

“Yeah.”

Raven sighed. “Me, too.”

It was a thought that had been confirmed moments ago, when she caught the look of stricken guilt on his face. In the time since she’d met him, he’d become shakier when it came to wiping his face clean, tamping down his emotions. The Dogshadsoftened him – had she softened him further? So much so that he felt the need to recapture some of his old heartless glory?

Or did he think he was doing the right thing, that he was protecting everyone he cared about?

She allowed herself a minute of staring into space, eyes burning. Then she shrugged into her coat, pulled out the handle on her bag, and hummed a Christmas carol as she went to join the others.

Twenty-Nine

Raven would forever associate the club with Baskerville Hall. Never mind the fact the London chapter had been the very first, but it was the only clubhouse she’d been inside until recently. Its sooty brick façade, its old-fashioned downstairs pub, brimming with Dogs but open to the public, all low lighting, polished wainscoting, and scent of hops and chips. Upstairs, a portrait of Victorian charm, sweetly reminiscent of a house full of grandmothers, but with guns rather than knickknacks perched on the doilies. She liked to insult the place to get under Phillip’s skin, but it was beautiful in its own way. WonderfullyEnglish.

At the end of August, she’d arrived in Tennessee for the very first time, and found herself at the famed Dartmoor, the subject of awed whispers and reverent Lean Dog stories. She’d expected something grand and gleaming, a city on a hill, a beacon of outlawry. What she’d found had been…rather disappointing. The industrial complex was sprawling, covering dozens of acres of tarmac, encompassing a slew of businesses, circled by a razor-wire-topped fence and bordered, at the back, by the Tennessee river. But she’d found the pavement and corrugated steel less than inspiring. The clubhouse itself sat at the far end, with a lawn made of asphalt, and a portico that belonged on a warehouse rather than the low-slung gray ranch house it had fronted. It was spotless, inside and out, clean-smelling, modern in the ways that counted, and big enough to house a whole chapter and their families, should an emergency call for it.

But from a character standpoint, she much preferred the rambling, two-story, late 1800s farmhouse that was the New York headquarters.

They arrived shortly after eight, and the headlights struggled to push through the thick, black shadows between the tree trunks. The drive snaked and twisted, and rose slowly upward, tires crunching over gravel and suspension working overtime through the potholes. “Jesus,” Tenny muttered from behind the wheel of the Rover. “Why don’t they pave this?”

They’d left the hired guards and driver behind, family only on this trip. Reese and Shep had ridden in front of them, Bennet and Toly behind. Raven had checked the side mirror every few minutes, expecting one of the headlamps to have dropped back, for Toly to have given them the slip – but it was two the whole way.

Tenny had noticed what she was doing and said, “He’s not gonna do anythingnow.”

“Who’s not gonna do what?” Cassandra had asked from the back seat, and Raven had cranked the music up.

When they arrived, and she was out of the car, and saw him unbuckling his helmet in the clubhouse driveway, she let out a deep, relieved breath. That was one hurdle cleared, at least. Then it was time to put on a good show, both as a guest and as a good big sister who was trying to give Cass a proper Christmas.

So far so good, based on the décor.

Pulling up, the dark had given way to the cheerful, yellow glow of illuminated garlands, swooping all down the length of the porch and a good distance down the curving front fence. In the center of the front yard, amidst a ring of copper fire pits, lit from above by loops of fairy lights on poles, stood a tall tree wound with old-fashioned colored lights. Electric candles flickered in all the front windows, and a wreath was hung on each as well. The detached garage, once a barn, had been outlined with white lights along the roofline and over the doors and windows. Raven turned to check Cass’s reaction, and found her face illuminated – with all the outdoor lights, yes, but from within, too, a slow-mounting happiness that, with a little luck, might turn to joy. Raven had no idea when she’d last felt joy, but she was determined to help Cass arrive there.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Tenny made a gagging sound. “I feel like I just walked onto a movie set.”

“I like it,” Reese said.

“You would.”

“Try not to be so romantic all the time, boys,” Raven said. “You don’t want to burn out and result to sniping at one another in your dotage.”

“Psh.”

But from the corner of her eye, she saw Tenny sling an arm around Reese’s neck and drag him in close; he shook him, like they were two bros horsing around, rather than husbands, but Reese looked pleased as punch.

Up ahead, a door on the back porch opened, warm light spilling down over the rail onto the frosty lawn. A female shape stood outlined in the doorway, waving. Cassandra hastened her steps – was nearly skipping – and Bennet offered her a gallant arm.

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