Page 65 of Nothing More

“I didn’t want to worry you,” she said. “You’re all the way down there in Knoxville, and it’s New York I have to lean on, now. Plus Ian. Really, everyone has it quite covered.” But that wasn’t an answer. Even if she didn’t need her brothers’ help – and she wasn’t sure yet that she didn’t – there was no excuse not to have at least kept them informed. When someone was threatening you, that was the sort of news you passed along.

“Right,” he said, flatly. “King is out, too much here to keep sorted money-wise, but I can bring the kids. It’ll be two days if we ride, half a day if Ian wants to send the jet for us.”

Her pulse leaped. “Charlie, no.”

“No?” he sounded disbelieving and amused, like a parent who’d caught a child telling an outlandish fib.

“No,” she repeated, more firmly. “It’s all sorted. We have Pongo’s girlfriend – you know, the police detective – assisting where she can, and there’s the men I’ve hired, plus Bennet and Shepherd, and Toly is–”

“Shepherd?” His tone hardened a fraction. “That joker? What’s he doing?”

A prickling up the back of her neck told her to tread carefully lest she want Charles William Fox planting himself in the middle of her life for the next two weeks. “Currently, he’s waiting for me outside of Ian’s office. We’re going over potential looks that I’ll be giving away for a charity gala. I’ve been asked to–”

She could envision the way his brows had drawn together – the expression of slight disgruntlement that meant he was inwardlypissed– when he interrupted to ask, “Where’s Toly? I thought he was sitting on you.”

More like kneeling behind me, she thought, as a memory of last night flashed in her mind, instantly heating her skin and elevating her pulse. “He’s been pulled away. But–”

“Yeah,” he interrupted again. “We’re coming. Let me call–”

“Charlie,stop,” she said, firmly, and he did. “Call Maverick if you need to be reassured, but things are handled here. I’mfine. And you can’t come anyway.”

“Oh?”

“You’ve a baby on the way, Eden needs you.”

“Eden’s a modern, self-sufficient woman. She’ll be fine.”

“And what am I to tell her if you come up here and get knifed by the Russians? ‘So sorry, darling, but your baby’s to be fatherless’?”

A long pause ensued, in which she had time to wince to herself and regret her words. Now she’d done it.

Across the room, Ian was watching her discreetly. At sight of her face, he stood and pulled out his phone. Went to stand at the window and make a discreet call of his own.

“Charlie–”

“It’s the Russians, then.”

“We don’t know that. Only that one of the…erm, parts…I was sent belonged to a Russian killed years ago.”

“In Russia?”

“…well. Yes.”

“I see.”

“I really don’t think it’s that serious,” she lied.

“Uh-huh. I’ll call you later.”

“Char–”

The line went dead.

“Oh…fuck. Fuck me.” She dropped her phone to her lap and massaged at the headache rapidly forming between her brows. “How is this my life?” she muttered. She swore she could feel the vibration of ringing phones, and clipped voices; the buzz of reprimands to be handed down; and the shush and hiss of waves, as her life was about to undergo yet another sea change.

She didn’t know how long she sat there in the corner by the bookshelf, unfocused gaze lingering on a bit of decorative, white ceramic meant to look like part of a coral reef, complete with monochromatic fish and eels. An odd choice for Ian, but he tended to choose objects d’arte for color, rather than composition or theme. Eventually, she became aware of the clinking of ice in glasses, and a merrily bubbling G&T appeared before her, held in an elegant, long-fingered hand, single platinum band flashing on its ring finger.

Raven took it sullenly, and didn’t try to fake a smile. “Ta.”

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