Page 195 of Nothing More

When she stepped back, his face was calm, that of a bored foreman come to inspect his lazy workers. All save the eyes. The eyes that, on Devin and Tenny proved they cared more than they would ever let on. And eyes that, now, on Fox, saidI’ve got this.

~*~

“The auction’s a no-go,” Fox said, right away, when their tentative plans were laid out. When Tenny bristled, he said, “We’ll put Prince to use and have him send people to scope it out. If your Ilya fellow shows, then we’ll see about making contact some way. If Misha is operating outside his crew’s wishes,” he pressed, in the face of Tenny’s screwed-up expression, “then it’s Misha we want, and he won’t have shared his plans with the others. He’ll have some help, but we have no idea of knowing whose.”

“I think I may know,” Raven said. “This Butcher’s son that Toly thought he and Misha were tracking together. They found his father’s ear, and what happened to Antonina seems like his work. Misha might be a liar, but not the sort to come up with an extravagant lie, I wouldn’t think, not like you” – gesture to Tenny and Fox that left them looking a little proud – “I’d wager he’s the one helping Misha. A chance to catch him is all that would have drawn Toly out of Albany and into the city.”

Fox tipped his head, noncommittal. “Could be.”

“He mailed his own father’s ear to you?” Alec asked, skeptical, disgusted.

Tenny hooked a thumb Devin’s direction. “I’d mail his ear.”

“As well you should,” Devin said, nodding.

Ian leaned over until his shoulder brushed Raven’s. “When did they get so chummy?” he whispered.

“Disturbing, isn’t it?”

“Let’s say this Butcher’s son – the father was, who Rosovsky?”

“Yeah,” Devin said. “Nasty piece of work. Liked to keep his victims on ice between ‘playtime’ sessions. Carved off bits at a time.”

The mental picture of Toly folded into a freezer left her sick and clammy. She grabbed again for logic, cold hard facts; for planning, and the chance to rescue, lest the horror of it drag her off into the mental weeds. She said, “Melissa said the carriage house at the raid was loaded with chest freezers. They found” – if her voice hitched, sue her – “multiple bodies alongside Antonina’s.”

Fox nodded. “Rosovsky looks likely, then. He was at least working out of that house, and likely on Misha’s orders. Call Miles,” he said to Reese. “Have him start looking for immigration records for Rosovsky – Morozov, too, even if he’s not likely to find anything.”

Reese nodded, and went off to make the call somewhere quieter.

“He’ll keep Toly alive for the time being,” Fox continued. “I can’t say how whole he’ll be–” His gaze darted Raven’s way when she let out an involuntary breath. “When did you sleep last?”

She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece, and wasn’t sure if she was surprised or dismayed that it was after three p.m. She felt as though she’d been awake for days, and as if time was running out.

“I’m–” she started.

“Don’t say fine. Go take a nap.”

“Charlie, I will not–”

“There’s nothing we can do now.” He said it gently, but it still hurt. Not as badly as Toly must,alive but not whole. “We need to see what Miles can find out, and I put Ratchet on airline records before I left Knoxville. Go take a nap. I’ll get my head around this, we’ll order dinner, and reconvene later.”

She found that she lacked the energy to argue, and also that her borrowed bravery was wearing very thin. If she allowed herself, she could dissolve into tears.

Instead, she stood. “Fine.” If, when she finally drifted off, there were tearstains on the pillowcase that still smelled of Toly, that was no one’s business but her own.

~*~

Melissa didn’t trust going back to the lab, or talking to IT about a potential rat in their midst – now that the idea was planted, her paranoia had jumped straight to the conclusion that there were more people to be suspicious of than to trust – but that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to get to Morozov another way. She’d talked to Pongo earlier, over corner cart hot dogs while Rob stood a discreet distance away and pretended to be looking at his phone rather than listening to them.

“It’s okay.” Pongo had offered a tired, flat smile. “I know you’re not gonna risk your job – you shouldn’t have to. And, like, you could go to jail for this, so…”

“Nathan.” It still sent a little thrill through her to call him that, to know and be trusted with his real name. “Toly’s – well, I guess he’s family, right?”

His eyes had gone all big and anime shiny. “You think of him as family?”

“Well” – she’d felt herself blushing – “he’s your family, isn’t he? Isn’t the club a big family? And since I don’t like my actual family all that much, and–” He’d cut her off with a kiss that tasted like mustard, and that was that.

Now she and Rob sat across from one of the fifth-rate bratva idiots they’d busted at the house. Most of them had clammed up and pretended not to speak English, staring blankly through any attempts at communication. This one, though, was nervous: sweating through his dirty white t-shirt, reeking of a hangover, feet bouncing under the table. He’d said his name was Luka, and that he’d only been at the house to pick up his brother, that he knew nothing of the girls – live or dead.

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