Page 79 of Nothing More

His had been the face of a stranger to her.

But he’d known hers. Had perhaps felt, in the way of all young people gazing admiringly at an image of someone lovely and famous half a world away, like he knew her; felt as if some kindship had sparked between them, her eyes printed large on paper, his red-rimmed from the cold of a Moscow rooftop.

Her lungs emptied, as if someone had elbowed her sharply in the ribs. She worked to take a slow breath in, and said, “Toly–”

He turned away; set the tea down, clamped the cigarette between his teeth, and flipped the covers back. “I should go,” he said, cig bobbing on his lip.

Raven reached out, and her fingers skimmed down his warm, bare shoulder as he climbed out of bed. She felt the goosebumps on his skin, and knew he was affected, no matter his indifferent tone.

“Toly, wait.”

He stepped into his jeans, tugged them up his slim hips, and finally glanced up at her through a screen of hair as he did up his belt.What?his look said, impatient, bored…

Hiding. He was desperately trying to hide the fact that he’d betrayed himself, let her glimpse some of the depths that lay beneath.

She wanted to push, but knew that if she did, in a personal sense, he’d clam up tighter than ever. She had a narrow window, and her heart was pounding, so she said, “You never told me about the day’s developments.”

He slid the tongue of his belt through its keeper, wallet chain jangling, and tossed the hair out of his face with a flick of his head, his expression closing off, shuttering up tight.

She adopted a stern expression she didn’t feel like performing at the moment, still warm and humming from his attentions, soft as putty from the thought of little fifteen-year-old him hungering over her ad campaign photos. He must have been adorable…as adorable as a baby assassin could be…

No. Focus.

“You were getting distance, you said.” She lifted her chin to drive home the point. “You were going to find things out. Well? What did you find out today? What strides have you made in our case?”

He regarded her a long moment – and his face relaxed a fraction before he bent to scoop up his t-shirt. “I didn’t learn much.”

“Much isn’t nothing,” she said in a sing-song voice.

He sighed. Donned his hoodie. Sent her a narrow, calculating look and said, “We’re investigating some leads. Bratva leads.”

“We?”

His expression soured. “The Alpines are helping. They think me being involved would attract too much attention.”

“The Alpines, yes.” She latched onto the topic with gusto: anything to keep him here longer. “I’ve yet to meet any of them besides Prince, but I hear good things.”

His gaze narrowed. “You hear good things,” he repeated, flatly. “What are you doing?”

He was onto her. Bollocks. But she forced a smile and said, “I’m talking with you – or, rather, trying to. Conversations generally require participation from both parties.”

Somehow, his gaze narrowed another fraction. He might as well have shut his eyes altogether and saved himself the strain of squinting. “You’re acting strange.”

“Oh, and you aren’t?” she shot back, lamely. Sighed afterward. “Can’t you give mesomething? At least some assurance that answers are being sought?”

His chin jutted out, and it took her a beat to realize he was pouting. It was precious. “You knowanswers are being sought,” he griped. “These things take time. I didn’t find out anything useful today, but maybe I will tomorrow.” He glanced at the clock, and frowned. “Today.”

“I know,” she relented, and then, feeling a streak of bravery: “Listen, it’s after three. You should just stay.”

He paused, and then bent forward to retrieve his jacket, a dusty black puddle of leather on the edge of the rug where she’d shoved it off his shoulders earlier. He hooked it with two fingers and straightened, wariness peeking through the locked-down mask he’d hastily slapped in place. It wasn’t quite hard enough, not flat enough to sell indifference. He shoved his arms in the sleeves and snapped the jacket straight with a few hard tugs.

“No,” he said to the rug. “I should go.”

Her stomach twisted unpleasantly; she hadn’t felt this way before, this sense of loss as a man donned his clothes and prepared to leave. Had no built-up defenses against the way she wanted to reach for him.

She balled her hands up in her lap and said, entreatingly, “Toly.”

He hesitated, and that touched her with an unexpected surge of warmth. Of affection. It wasn’t just her; he was struggling, too.