Page 83 of Nothing More

“Dunno.” Miles looked down at the drain and exhaled noisily. “But…everything that happens gets stranger and stranger.”

Not stranger, but more convoluted. Harder to predict. Moresophisticated.

Toly said, “Where is Raven now?”

~*~

Lavelle’s usual lunch crowd consisted of elegant, well-dressed ladies sipping low-cal cocktails and munching on salads. The air was filled with the glow of natural light that spilled in through the restaurant’s floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Park. The tables were petite, the chairs dainty black iron, the colors muted. French doors let out onto a flagstone patio, all shut up for winter, the string lights swaying in the cold breeze. It was a far cry from the dark wood paneling and oxblood leather environs in which one would expect to dine with a gangster…which was precisely the reason Prince or Ian had chosen it, she knew. The women sitting around them wouldn’t care about their below-board business; no mafia or bratva or yakuza hitmen were lurking behind the white roses or the Chinese screens.

Ian offered his arm to her at the hostess station, and Raven looped hers through it on their walk to a circular corner table with a view of topiary spirals through the black-mullioned windows. Prince was waiting for them already, and lifted a brief, two-fingered wave as they approached, rings glinting in the weak sunshine.

Framed by the diffuse light coming in behind him, Peter Rydell was both harsher and handsomer than she remembered from their first meeting, after dark at the Albany clubhouse. He was letting his hair gray as it would, and wore it slicked back tight in a way that highlighted the hollows under his eyes and cheekbones. A strong, solid man of the sort who was going to grow thinner, rather than heavier, as he aged. The light, watchful eyes of a predator that conveyed an immediate sense of intelligence, competence, and even, she thought, fairness. She didn’t trust him, because trust was hard-earned in her world – but neither did anything about him alarm her.

If given the choice between coolly serious and smilingly devious, she’d take the first every time.

He stood when they reached the table, and offered his hand to her, palm-up. Raven placed hers inside it, and he pressed the back of it. One of his rings, she noted, was a tiny little mountain range done in platinum. The Swiss Alps, at a guess.

“Miss Blake,” he greeted.

She drew her hand back. “Mr. Prince.”

He shook hands with Ian, and motioned to the two chairs across from him. “Won’t you both sit?”

When he lowered into his own chair, the light flashed off glimmering threads in his suit jacket, revealing it to be a blue-on-blue plaid, rather than a flat weave, as she’d first thought on approach.

A waitress arrived with a soft smile to take their drinks order. Prince ordered a bottle of 2015 Sauvignon Blanc for the table, and the girl went away blushing to herself, totally smitten.

Raven arched a single brow and Prince lifted one back, a smile playing lightly across his mouth. “I wasn’t encouraging her.”

“I know,” Raven said. “No one should ever have to apologize for attracting attention. That’s my motto, at least.”

Beside her, Ian chuckled. “Best not look to your left, then, darling. Those women there are glaring daggers at you.”

“Given my present circumstances, I’ll gladly trade places with one of them. Now.” She sent Prince a serious look. “I hear that you’re acquiring my security dilemma.”

His smile twitched to the side, as though he was fighting the spread of it.

“What did I tell you?” Ian asked.

“I’ll step on your other foot, you,” she warned, eyes still on Prince. To him: “Well?”

He schooled his features and inclined his head. “I’ve spoken with Maverick and Shaman both, yes. I understand it’s a delicate situation, and my man Kat has already begun investigating.”

“Your nephew?” She’d met him in Albany, too, a broody, long-haired young man with cautious dark eyes. A bit like Toly, now that she thought of it; a startling revelation.

“Yes. Like the Lean Dogs, our organization is a family affair as well. Kat did some reconnaissance yesterday with – Toly, is it?” At Ian’s nod, he continued, “Today, he’s following up. We’re pursuing a line of interest. Undercover work, really.”

Raven tried to ignore the way her stomach – and regions north – jumped at hearing Toly’s name, and said, “‘Line of interest.’ How very obfuscating and police-like of you.”

His smile was small and wry. “Yes, well, we thought it might be safter for you if you didn’t know all the dirty details.”

She was growing infuriatingly familiar with the sense of impotent anger that boiled up in her stomach.

The wine arrived, thankfully, and she took a long sip once hers had been poured. They ordered, and when the waitress was safely away, Raven set her glass down with a thump. “That’s well and good if this is actual police work – which it isn’t. And if I was some dizzy idiot who couldn’t stomach the ‘dirty details,’ which I certainly am not.”

Ian’s phone buzzed. “Sorry,” he said, and pulled it out to check his message.

Raven continued to stare at Prince who, to his credit, neither rolled his eyes nor made any sort of patronizing face at her. He nodded, clear-eyed, unapologetic, unbothered. “Trust me, I know that. In fact…” He hesitated.

---