Page 90 of Nothing More

He wished suddenly, acutely, that he hadn’t removed himself from guard duty, and that he’d been here to see for himself.

Then he tore his gaze away because hedidn’t do this, and it was starting to disturb him, this churn offeelingin his gut.

“Ready to go?” Ian asked.

“Yes,” Raven said, and they went.

~*~

He was swinging his leg over his bike when his phone rang.

He sat, watched the Rover and the Jag pull away from the curb ahead of him – and let them go, dug out his phone. He ought to keep his distance, no matter how his chest tugged. Make a clean break and put some space between them now that she was out of her building. Now was the chance to find out whose hair the intruder had been after; who they were currently watching.

He sighed, and checked his phone. Didn’t recognize the number, but noted the Knoxville, Tennessee area code.

Cold dread clenched in his gut a moment. How quickly had Tenny gotten on the horn with his brothers back home to share his suspicions about Toly and his sister?

He answered with a cold, “What?”

Atsk. A snappy British-accented voice said, “Is that any way to greet your new brother-in-law?” Tenny, then, and not Fox.

He unclenched a little.

“I’m not your anything.”

“Oh, but aren’t you?”

“You heard Raven,” Toly said, firm and flat. “Nothing happened. I took a shower.”

“Uh-huh, sure you did, mate. Do I look like an idiot?”

“You look like a dickhead.”

“Fair enough,” Tenny said, unbothered.

Then there was a rustling. Farther from the phone, Tenny said, “Hey, now – don’t think you can get away with–”

A new voice came on the line, calm and even. The husband, Reese. Toly remembered him with an eye swollen shut and both arms in slings, beat to a pulp and insisting he walk on his own power. Remembered Tenny hauling him out of the Beaumont Building dripping blood, pale and clammy and half-conscious.

“Hello,” he said, while Tenny continued to bitch in the background at having his phone taken. “Tenny wants to invite you along for some recon, but he’s not very good at invitations.”

“Sodyou, stupid tit,” Tenny said.

“He wants to know,” Reese continued, clearly not offended by his not-so-better-half’s insult, “if you can meet us at Macy’s.”

~*~

Which was how he found himself getting an impromptu makeover in a department store dressing room.

“I have suits,” Toly protested, scowling. “Raven gave me a whole wardrobe for work.”

“She gave you bespoke, designer suits.” Tenny in his element was much more tolerable than him being sociable: no-nonsense, efficient, and less pointedly insulting. “No cop would show up dressed like that. It’s off the rack for us today.” He thrust a simple black suit, white shirt, and red tie into his arms. “Put that on, then I’ll fix your face.”

Toly wanted to protest – but recognized that was a personal, emotional response, and not a logical one. Dickhead though he may be, Tennyson Fox knew what he was doing when it came to playacting, espionage, and getting information.

Toly put on the suit. It was too big in the shoulders, but Tenny said that was good, that it would “disguise his silhouette.”

“Why me?” Toly asked. “Why not take Reese?”

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