Page 134 of Nothing More

She was wiping a cloudy glass with a nasty bit of rag, and glanced up at them through her lashes. “I don’t serve Americans,” she said in accented English.

He responded in Russian. “Who says we’re American?”

She glanced toward Reese, and responded in kind. “He is.” Back to him. “Maybe not you. English, then.”

“Good eye.”

She gave him the gimlet stare another moment, then craned her neck to peer around him and speak over his shoulder. “If you’re going to kill them, don’t do it in here. The floor’s dirty enough without more blood on it.”

Tenny didn’t whip around to face the three goons, but he didn’t slouch, either. There was a balance to this sort of thing: a play between insolence and fear. Hewasn’tfearful, but that wasn’t the point. Getting cocky with this lot wasn’t going to net him the results he wanted.

“You again,” Tenny said, in his American-accented English. “I’m starting to think you’re following us.”

The three of them were stairsteps, tallest to shortest. Or maybe a nesting doll metaphor would be more appropriate, given the situation. The tallest, clearly the leader, gave Tenny a sneering look from beneath heavy brows. But it was the middle one who leaned forward and said, “No. You’re following us.”

“Now why would I do that?” Tenny drawled, and leaned back against the bar. From the corner of his eye, he saw Reese turn to the bartender and say, “Two, please,” two fingers held up for emphasis.

The tallest idiot said, “Who the fuck are you? What are you doing in our neighborhood?”

“Looking for information.” He tilted his head. “Information I thought I could get from your boy Nikolai, but given what I saw last time, I’m guessing he got the ol’–” He drew a finger across his throat.

The man’s lips peeled back off his teeth. The others shifted, bristled up like cats about to pounce.

People, Tenny had found, weren’t so different from horses. Russian mob, biker, businessman: they were all the same, when you pared them down to their base components. A direct approach was best, no bullshit.

“Look,” he said, “all of that” – he waved at them – “isn’t gonna work on us.” The three matching scowls he earned left him biting back a laugh. He said, “I figure we can do this one of two ways: either we stay, and have a chat, and you have a chance to earn a buttload of money. Or we walk, and you won’t bother us again. I heard Kozlov was the place to get my hands on some kickass sedatives, but if not…” He see-sawed his hand, and tipped his head to the door. “No harm no foul.”

It was a shame the rest of the club wasn’t here to witness hiskickassAmerican character, but that would have meant dealing with them all, so…it was for the best.

“How do you know we’re Kozlov?” the midsize one demanded. “You don’t knowanything.”

“Oh, okay, so you’re telling me you’re Russian, but not Kozlov, but you drink in a bar where the girl slinging you drinks is.” He gestured over his shoulder at the bartender and she mutteredfuckin her mother tongue.

She said, “Just talk to them, Ilya, and get them out of my hair!”

The big one – Ilya – shot her a murderous look, but then his nostrils flared, and he met Tenny’s gaze again. “Fine.”

Success.

~*~

It felt good to be back in the office, focusing on all the normal, everyday tasks that had piled up in her absence. But Raven found herself distracted, unable to give anyone or anything her full attention, thinking of Toly at the counter that morning, his tragic backstory, the way he’d brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth, dodging the kiss she’d meant to give him when she left. Kept thinking of her hand, empty and cold, until she’d finally folded her fingers and pulled back, untouched.

A rational person would have chalked his retreat into coldness up to frustration and helplessness, trapped alone in the safehouse, the maiden in the tower now, instead of her. But instinct told her it was something more. Something worse.

“Miss Blake?”

“Oh, yes. The blue, I think.”

“Very good, ma’am.” The seamstress turned, silk samples whispering against the table, to lay aside the blue and type it into the computer.

Raven suppressed a sigh and walked on, Melanie at her side, clipboard at the ready.

“Is everything alright, ma’am?”

“Fine. It’s…” She rubbed at her temples, briefly, in a fruitless attempt to stave off her mounting headache. “I’m a bit stressed, I’m afraid. Family stuff.”

“Ah.”