Page 89 of Ravaged Soul

“Couple weeks. We’re all flying out to Stockholm.”

“Who’s covering for you at the gym?”

Lennox waves a hand dismissively. “Lincoln has it under control. We’re planning to expand next year by opening another two branches across the city.”

“Shit, Nox. That’s awesome.”

He shrugs, stopping to key in the code for their Sabre-provided security system. I updated it myself when Ripley sat down with reporters for a tell-all interview about their case. They’ve been harassed by the media ever since.

“I can’t complain. The place is full every day.”

“You should be damn proud.” My shoulder nudges his. “I know we all are.”

“Thanks, man.”

Their loft apartment is a modern, open-plan layout that benefits from vaulted ceilings and huge steel beams. Ripley has the space divided by rows of drying racks and a massive bookshelf, all draped with art paraphernalia and damp canvases.

The kitchen faces their living room, cluttered with mismatched, antique furniture. Raine is stirring something in a saucepan behind the stove, his glasses-covered eyes fixed ahead as he cocks his blonde head.

“Hey, Raine.”

“You should take a shower,” he says by way of greeting. “I can smell you from here. Old coffee and three-day sweat aren’t attractive if you’re searching for a girl to turn that frown upside down.”

“How do you know I’m frowning?” I rebuke.

He gestures in my vague direction with a sauce-slicked spoon. “You’re here on a weeknight, and I know for sure it isn’t because you want my spaghetti carbonara. Something’s up.”

My whole body deflates with a loud sigh. “Missed you too.”

“There’s beer in the fridge. Xan’s finishing up a phone call.”

“I’m here for Ripley.”

“Then… you’re in luck.” He stops to listen then resumes stirring the pasta sauce. “She’s just washing up in the studio.”

“Do his freaky Batman senses ever get old?” I head for their fridge.

Lennox leans against the kitchen island, watching Raine cook. “After about three seconds, yeah. There’s no such thing as privacy in this flat.”

“Just because I make being blind look cool.” Raine chortles. “No need to hate.”

“You wouldn’t know cool if it smacked you around the face,” Lennox supplies.

“One more word and you get to go to bed hungry.”

Lennox’s grin twinkles with mischief. “Why wasn’t I told that was an option earlier?”

“That’s it. No dinner.”

“Thank fuck.”

Swallowing half the beer in three long pulls, I ignore the way Lennox studies me and Raine falls silent to decipher what I’m doing. When Xander strolls in and pulls a face at my presence, I decide Ripley’s had long enough to clean up.

“Next time you almost die on an active raid, have the decency to call us back,” Xander deadpans. “She’s your fucking friend.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I rub my tired eyes.

“Make it right with her.”