Page 5 of Nothing More

“I did,” an unfamiliar voice spoke up. Male, British. Here in the room with them.

Toly swore in Russian and tossed down the dossier; scanned the office and had the gun he kept at the small of his back drawn before he spotted the young man lounging in the corner on a tufted leather chaise. He registered long legs unfolding as the man – the boy, really – stood, and dark hair, and blue, blue eyes, brightly familiar.

Raven’s eyes.

She stood, a fast flash of powder blue in his periphery. “Down, boy,” she snapped, in the tone of a woman used to being listened to. “That’s my brother. Miles. Over from London.”

Toly blinked the adrenaline rush from his eyes and scrutinized the boy more closely. He could see the resemblance in the eyes, yes, but also in the shape of his nose, and the way he held himself. Of the brothers he’d met, he most closely resembled Tennyson Fox, though a little blurrier at the edges, and with an easy, laid-back expression that seemed natural, but would have been a disguise in Tennyson’s case.

Miles. Brother. Not a threat. Clearly, Raven had invited him in, and known he was there all along.

But why hadn’t Toly? He should have clocked him the moment he entered. Should have, as part of his guard dog duties, done a thorough search of the office, swept for bugs, looked in the wardrobes. He should have beenalert…to something besides the way Raven’s gleaming hair fell against the front of her dress.

He would never have made such a mistake in his old life.

He was goingsoft.

Miles gave a little wave. “Hey.” He grinned. “Uh, don’t shoot, okay? I haven’t been to the top of the Empire State building yet.”

Raven let out an exasperated sound. “Honestly. Put the gunaway, Anatoly.”

He shifted his gaze to meet hers, saw steel flashing in her eyes, waited a beat on principal, and finally did put the gun away.

Raven arched a single brow in silent, devastating chastisement, then sat back down with a huff.

Toly was sure not to hurry as he bent to retrieve the dossier.

“Miles is a genius with computers,” Raven said, “so I asked him to come and tighten up security here at the agency. He’s also doing some hacking for us, and installing new security software on all the desktops in the building.”

“Basically,” Miles slouched over to join his sister on the opposite side of the sofa, snagging one of the muffins and a napkin on the way, “if anyone on this floor is selling any of Raven’s private information to the highest bidder, I’ll know about it.”

“That’s…not a bad idea,” Toly allowed.

“I don’thavebad ideas,” Raven said.

“Thanks,” Miles said, smiling, and took a massive bite of muffin. Crumbs rained down into his lap and onto the sofa cushion, and Raven sent him alookthat went unseen. “I designed all the programs myself.”

“As I said,” Raven said. “Genuis. Even if he doesn’t know how to use a napkin.”

Miles took another crumb-producing bite, unbothered, and spoke around it. “You’re from the New York chapter, yeah? The Russian.”

That was how the whole club saw him:the Russian. He wasn’t the only Russian in the Lean Dogs – but he was the only one who’d been bratva. Who’d been bratva and gotten out with his skin intact. That made himtheRussian.

He was used to it.

“Da.”

Miles nodded. “Cool. Guess we’ll be working together, then.” More crumbs fell onto the sofa – which Raven began picking up between two pinched fingers and depositing in her other palm, lip curled in elegant disgust – and he couldn’t have looked less like an asset in this situation.

Better than Pongo, though.

“Miles is a member in London,” Raven said.

“Yeah. I know.”

He got the lifted brow again.

The intercom buzzed politely on the desk, and the secretary’s voice floated through the room: “Miss Blake, your eight-thirty is here.”