Page 88 of Nothing More

She could hear them discussing her, as she left. Tenny wondering aloud where they could “stash her,” and Prince suggesting something she couldn’t hear because she shoved through the doors and marched down the hall to get away from the suffocation of all their “concern.” She bobbled a bit, on the cracks in the floorboards, unsteady on her spike heels, head fuzzy from whisky. But she pressed on, and found the ladies’ room far nicer than expected. She didn’t frequent pubs, but this one had spotless vintage tile, glass lamps on the walls, clean sinks, and smelled of chemical flowers and nothing unsavory.

She turned on the cold taps and let the water sluice over the insides of her wrists, until the coolness spread up her arms and across her chest, chasing away the nervous flush she’d been feeling the past hour.

In the mirror, she saw the door swing open behind her, and Ian eased his head and shoulder inside, searching.

Raven sighed and shut off the water. “It’s only me.” She pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and turned to face him. If she leaned back against the sink and let it steady her, that was her business and no one else’s.

He stepped in and let the door swing shut behind him, expression mobile and emotive in a way it hadn’t been in front of the others. “I’m sorry,” he said, simply. “I know you hate it.”

“I do.” She sighed again; balled up her towel and flicked it neatly into the bin. “But I can’t think of any other way.”

He shook his head. Then: “We won’t do another hotel, though. Not after last time.”

Her stomach was in a whole sailor’s assortment of knots, but one turned loose at that.

“I’ll secure you and Cass a proper safehouse this time, and we’ll get some extra boys on rotation for you. Dogs, hired men, whichever. We’ll figure the rest out as we go.” His head tilted. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

They stood a moment, because Raven didn’t want to straighten, and walk out, and “figure out the rest.” She wanted to sleep – for weeks preferably – and to worry about nothing more than a snagged hem, or a printer jam at the office. Ordinary, mundane problems that people thought so debilitating…but which were gifts, in truth: the gift of boredom. Gift of normality.

Ian shifted, and it took her a moment to realize that he had spread his arms in offer of a hug.

She pushed off the sink in a sudden rush and gripped him tight around the waist; pressed her face into his clean-smelling shirt and just breathed a moment.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m the sort that needs a hug now and then,” she warned.

“Don’t get mascara on my shirt,” he shot back.

They chuckled, and when she eventually pushed back, dabbed her eyes, and went out, it was on steadier legs.

Nineteen

Prince pulled Toly aside, as their meeting dispersed. Once Raven had been assured that the Alpines were on the case, and would keep the Dogs, and her personally, informed on all developments. She listened with a blank expression that spoke of exhaustion rather than disinterest. Her eyes were dry and clear, her makeup perfect as ever, but she had a washed-out, rough-scrubbed look about her. It had been too much, all of it; far too much for someone intent on projecting a perfect, polished persona at all times.

Prince leaned in close, wreathed in cigar smoke, and said, quietly, “Kat’s checking in tonight. He says meet him here at nine and he’ll give you the rundown.”

Surprised, but grateful to have been included, Toly nodded. “I’ll be here.”

Then he went out, got on his bike, and followed the Rover. Ian was going with Raven back to the flat so she could pack things for herself and Cass, and if he couldn’t be out snooping around for leads, then Toly was putting himself back on escort duty. Fuck it.

If Raven noticed, she gave no indication; never even looked his way. Hadn’t ever since he mentioned the shower drain.

There were so many of them they had to go up the elevator in shifts. Toly went up with Bennet and Shep on the first trip. In their blurred reflections on the smoky chrome of the doors, he saw Shep scratch at the back of his neck and grin; a smudge of teeth flashing.

Toly’s stomach soured, because he knew what was coming, and was proven right.

“DNA in the shower, huh?” A dark chuckle. “And her covering for you: ‘Am I supposed to sit around and smell them all?’” His attempt at her accent was so terrible it was offensive.

On his other side, Bennet tried to turn a laugh into a cough. “Aw, come on now, man. What was she supposed to do? Say he was rubbing one out in her shower? It was sweet of her, really. I didn’t take you for that sort, though,” he told Toly, a note of regret in his voice. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s a knockout – who wouldn’t have a stray thought or two? But in her shower? You couldn’t wait ‘til you got home?”

Toly took a measured breath. “I didn’t ‘rub one out’ in her shower.”

Shep snorted. “Yeah, you did. What’s the alternative? You fucked her?”

He could say that he was dirty, tired, that he’d asked to take a shower, and she’d let him use her private one, in the master bath. That was nearly as preposterous as Toly getting into bed with her.

He hesitated too long, and Shep said, “Wait.” He gripped Toly’s shoulder and turned him; Toly struggled against the impulse to deck him for it. His brows were up, expression incredulous. “Shit. No. No way. You didn’t – youdid, didn’t you?” He grinned and shook his head. “Holy Jesus. You fucked the Ice Queen?”

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