Page 178 of Nothing More

“Classy.”

“Then we got together a few more times, when you were a baby. Poor thing: she thought if she tried hard enough, if she made herself seem like a good little wife prospect, I might stick around. I felt bad about it. Genuinely, I did.”

Raven skated a sideways glance his way to gauge his expression. He was playing at wistful. “That doesn’t sound much like Mum.”

Rueful smile. “It wouldn’t. She was different, before you were born – before I…well. I had a mission, you know. Doesn’t mean I didn’t feel bad about hurting her.” His gaze lifted, brows cocked at meaningful angles. “Or hurting you.”

Her throat tightened; her stomach lurched. The problem with Devin was that when he pulled this sort of stunt, he pulled it so bloodywell. He sold the poor, sad, regretful father routine with the aplomb and expertise of a stage magician; afterward, she always felt as if that’s where she’d been, sitting in front of a stage somewhere, thoroughly tricked.

She said, “It’s too late to play that card with me, Devin. You know it is.” If her voice cracked a little, he was gracious enough not to mention it.

“I know,” he said, after a moment. “Bowls?”

“Over the dishwasher.”

Damn the man, but he had tact. Had it in spades, when he wanted to. He went to retrieve the bowls, soft chiming of china on china as he lined them up on the counter. She knew she didn’t need to check that he’d set out enough for all of them. Unasked, he went to the fridge; rustled around in the pantry a moment, and when she finally glanced over found him buttering thick slices of bread he’d cut from a fresh loaf of sourdough.

“This is a nice place,” he said as he worked. “I like it better than the Tennessee clubhouse. Can’t speak for the people since I haven’t met most of them. Who was that who left as I got in? The one with the Glock that needed cleaning?”

She snorted. Of course he’d noticed the state of Shep’s weapon. “That’s Shepherd. He’s one of the one’s who’s been assigned to us.”

“Him?” He clucked dismissively. “Plates?” When she gestured, he moved to the proper cabinet and said, “I wouldn’t trust him to look after a dog.”

“He’s not totally incompetent.” Raven started ladling stew into bowls. “You and Charlie have the same problem: you compare everyone to yourselves, and find the world lacking. In general, normal levels of skill and toughness will suffice.”

“Try keeping things general, then,” he shot back, tone laced with amusement.

She set the final bowl on its plate with its buttered slab of bread, and Devin surveyed them with hands on hips, head tilted. “It’s wanting garnish. Got any parsley?”

“Just the dried flakes.”

He made a face. “It’ll have to do.”

They dressed the bowls with said parsley flakes, and a fast drizzle of chili oil. Raven didn’t call the others in right away, though. Turned instead to Devin, calmer now, if not exactly happy to be in his presence. He met her gaze, his own seemingly open – and that was the problem.Seemingly. She thought she knew him better than a potential mark would, or a stranger on the street, but she could never know him fully. Even if she managed to guess what he was really thinking behind his array of masks, there was always some ulterior motive she hadn’t sussed, or a twist she’d never expected.

It had always been so, so exhausting, and no matter how many times she told herself she didn’t care, she kept caring anyway.

“Okay,” she said, “go ahead. Do your worst.”

He frowned. “Go ahead with what?”

She folded her arms. “Now’s your chance: whatever embarrassing, invasive stuff you want to ask me about Toly, ask it now.”

The frown deepened, brows knitting. An expression that reminded her mostly of Walsh, but with a poorly-hidden spark of deviousness lurking in his eyes. “I don’t know what–” he started, and she arched a brow, gave him a pointed look.

The corner of his mouth twitched, a barely suppressed smirk. “Fine.” But then he grew serious. “You’re a grown woman, and by all rights, you’ve done better for yourself than any of the others.”

“Thank you,” she blurted, shocked.

“You drive a Rover, you have a fancy flat–”

She made aget on with itgesture.

Fox and Tenny could shift demeanors in a blink; Devin did it faster, somehow. It set a person’s hair on end. Back to serious, he lifted a finger. “One: does he love you?”

Just days ago, she would have hesitated. Now, she said, “Yes,” straight off.

He nodded. “Is he good to you?”

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