Page 199 of Nothing More

Which would explain the congested pain of his nose.

Click.Click.

“Will your girlfriend like them, do you think? Or these, down here?” Scrape of his shoe on the floor, and then Toly’s leg jerked against the touch of his hand along his bare thigh. The wounds stung, yes, stung worse when Rosovsky dug his nails into them, but it was the skimming of his skin over Toly’s that left him wanting to roll off the table and bolt. The proprietary way he stroked down over his knee, and shin, and massaged his calf. Like he was feeling up a side of beef he’d carved…and intended to carve some more.

“Shh, shh,” Rosovsky shushed. “It looks lovely.” More clicks. “I think she’ll appreciate my contributions.

“In the photos, of course.” Low chuckle. “She won’t ever get to see them in person.”

~*~

Raven sat bolt upright from a nightmare in which she was walking through a meatpacking plant, freezing cold, passing row after row of hanging sides of beef, pale, ice-crystal pink in the harsh light. Beef, beef, beef – and then, strung up by his feet, long hair brushing the sawdust floor, Toly.

She pressed a hand to her galloping heart and took a second to take in her surroundings: the bedroom, dark windows, her still in her clothes on top of the covers. Her teeth were chattering, though the room was warm.

And Fox stood in the open doorway, expression businesslike. He would never come to embrace her, and rub her back; fetch her a glass of water and ensure her that she was fine, and safe, and good. He didn’t even ask if she was okay – because he knew she was.

Devin’s kids, and all that.

“Come on,” he said. “Mav ordered pizza, and we’re putting together a plan.”

“Okay.” She smoothed her hair, and went to join them.

Thirty-Three

The day had dawned fittingly gray and overcast to suit their mission. They embarked on grave business as grave snow clouds piled up over the city. The air smelled of sharp frost, and the wind scuttled leaves and rubbish down the gutters; snatched at hats and hair.

Raven clamped her own hat down onto her head – a red wool beret that matched her scarf, a contrast to her black dress, tights, and heels – while Fox, outfitted chicly from her own line of menswear, rang the bell. He glanced over his shoulder afterward, casually surveying the street. Reese was at the top of the street, tucked up on a house ledge, his radio linked to the earpiece Fox wore.

“Still nothing,” Fox murmured, and faced forward as the door opened a fraction to reveal a young woman’s rather stunning face.

Big blue eyes, full lips, flawless makeup, including a shade of lipstick too dark for this early in the morning, and a tumble of honey-blonde curls over one shoulder, smooth and obviously just rolled.

“Hi?” it was more of a question than a greeting, gaze shifting uncertainly between them. She was American, by the accent.

Interesting. Toly had said Misha was supposed to marry Kozlov’s daughter – his Russian daughter – and eventually set himself up as heir to the whole bratva. It wasn’t uncommon for criminals to entertain wives and a mistress or two, and ordinarily she wouldn’t care, but in this instance, Raven planned to use this poor girl, and the risk she posed to Misha, for all she was worth.

“Hello,” Raven began, and the girl’s attention snapped to her. The door pushed wide, as did the girl’s eyes, and her mouth fell open on a dramatic gasp. “I’m–” Raven tried, and was verbally trampled.

“Oh my God!” The girl slapped a hand over her mouth and spoke through parted fingers. “Oh my God, you’re Raven Blake!”

“Shh,” Fox hissed, and was ignored. The girl only had eyes for Raven.

Whose mind was spinning in an attempt to make sense of this most unexpected turn. “You…know who I am?”

The girl’s hands shifted; fluttered up so he held her own cheeks like Macaulay Culkin. “Yes!” she shrieked, at a volume verging on only-dog-friendly. She was smiling, though, and not holding a gun, so Raven was cautiously optimistic. “I’m obsessed with you! I’ve got, like, all of your magazines – all the way back to your first shoot! I love your style, and then, like, you started a fashion line, and I just – whoo! Okay.” She fanned her face, which had gone deep pink. “Sorry. This is just – what are you doing here? Why are you at my house? Oh my God!” she exclaimed again, before Raven could answer. “Did Mikey set this up?! Is this what he meant when he said he had a surprise for me?”

“Er…yes,” Raven said, and got a squeal and a jump.

The girl flitted forward, arms opening. “Can I – this is totally not appropriate – can I hug you?”

“Perhaps not yet, dear.”

“Oh.” Her face fell, comically. “Okay.” Then brightened again. “I totally get it. I mean, look at me, I’m being such a ditz!” A titter, a giggle, and she stepped back into the entryway with an expansive gesture. “Come in, come in!”

Raven traded a glance with Fox, wondering what he thought. His single arched brow seemed to say,Might as well see what happens.

She nodded. “Thank you.” And stepped inside.