Page 113 of Nothing More

Cass’s gaze narrowed – but with less judgement than before. “What I said before:areyou ever actually nice to him?”

“Yes.I am,” she insisted, when met with a skeptical brow lift. “Less so in front of others, but definitely in private.”

A beat. Hesitant, then: “Is…is he nice to you?”

A slideshow flashed through Raven’s mind: finger-shaped bruises on her hips, fingers twisted in her hair, hand pinning her between the shoulder blades, while he thrust ruthlessly into her from behind, over and over. But she thought too of the fear and uncertainty in his gaze, the flares of protectiveness, and worry. The way he’d been only an hour ago, lost, and worried, and unsure how to proceed, as irrevocably tangled as her.

“Yeah,” she said, and smiled, and watched something like wonder touch her little sister’s face. “He is.”

Cass glanced away, nodded slowly. She took another deep breath, and said, “What do you think everyone’s going to say?”

“Why do you think I’ve been keeping it secret?” Raven countered, and earned a snicker.

“If even Tenny’s pissed about it–”

“Best not to think of King and Charlie’s reaction.”

“I know, right? God, what are they gonna do when I’ve got a boyfriend?”

“Luckily, we won’t find that out for at least another ten years.”

Big eye roll. “Oh myGod.”

Twenty-Three

Toly couldn’t remember ever being so restless.

It was a beautiful apartment, with plenty of rooms, plenty of groceries, wifi, satellite TV and a host of streaming service subscriptions – but it felt more like a pretty prison cell than the vacation Maverick told him to think of it as.

When Raven and Cassandra had gone to the bedroom – presumably for a sisterly talk, one in which he hoped sex-specific details weren’t shared – he’d gone out onto the terrace to check in with his president.

“Stay put,” Maverick had said, more sternly than he normally got. “It was bad enough to think they were tailing you, but apparently, they’re trying to frame you for murder. I want you lying low, understand?”

Toly had fiddled with an unlit cigarette, and turned into the wind, so it whipped his hair off his face. “What if I went away? Left town,” he’d explained, when it was silent on the other end too long. “Maybe take a flight. Be real obvious about it. Draw them off.”

Another long beat. Maverick had said, “Who put you up to that?”

“Nobody. It would be a good idea.”

“No,staying putwould be a good idea. We’re going to handle this. Give me some time to put a plan together. Kat and the Alpines are still doing some legwork on the ground.” He’d sighed. “Will you actually listen to me? Will you stay in that safehouse until I give the all-clear?”

If Toly had crossed his fingers when he agreed, that was between him and God.

He went to lean along the railing after he hung up, lingered there until the wind wormed its way through his thin shirt and chilled his skin; until his chest was covered in goosebumps, nipples drawn up to aching peaks.

Down below, traffic crawled along the streets like slow-moving ants, yellow cabs, dark cars. A line of shining imports was in the half-circle drive of the building, unloading rich passengers beneath the awning.

He was safe as houses up here, he knew. Barring a full-scale assault the likes of which the club had launched on Waverly a few months ago – and that really wasn’t the bratva’s style, wasn’tanyone’sstyle, outside of alphabet agencies and militaries – he could sit up here untouched. Protected. Fortified in his (possibly literally) ivory tower.

He'd always hated sitting idle.

Needing protection was a novel, unwelcome addition.

He lit a fresh cigarette and resisted the urge to pace the width of the terrace. Behind him, the door opened near-soundlessly, a faint whisper of the rubber weather strip over the flagstones. It closed just as softly, but there was no softening the click of high-heeled boots as Raven approached.

He was becoming used to the way his insides lit up like a switchboard when she came around. No longer simply clocking her as his charge, his responsibility, nor even a generalized awareness of her as a beautiful woman. It was full-on lights and sirens, now, a tug low in his gut, a cascade of pleasant flashbacks and a pull totally foreign. When he saw her now, it was automatic to want to touch her, to kiss her.

It left him feeling as unguarded and off-step as a teenager.

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