Ravi’s apartment was barren. A one-room testament to austerity: white walls, a double bed in the corner, a small kitchenette with two stools tucked under the countertop. The only decoration was an outdated wall calendar featuring photographs of New England birds. Lucy didn’t take Ravi for much of a birdwatcher. She’d never even known there was a studio to rent over the gas station. Probably because nobody ever rented it.
Ravi watched as Lucy made a quick review of his living quarters.
“Not much, is it?” he said. He pulled his bow tie loose.
“It looks like a ghost lives here.”
Stripping off his tailcoat, he showed her a half-smile, a Ravi smile. Not the hard one he’d flashed her back at school.
“A friendly ghost?” Ravi asked, unbuttoning his dress shirt. Oh my. Lucy skewed her gaze to a patch of mold on the ceiling, intensely aware of the fact that he was undressing in front of her.
Since this was a studio, Lucy was essentially standing in his bedroom. Grow up. Ravi wasn’t acting like this was anything out of the ordinary. Aside from the fact that Claudia had been kidnapped and he was changing so they could go rescue her, of course.
Crouching down, he rifled through a duffel bag at the foot of the bed. He fished out a short-sleeved black shirt, Lycra, like one of Cole’s racing jerseys. Lucy wrinkled her nose just thinking his name. She never wanted to hear it again.
“White tie isn’t really stealth,” Ravi said, sounding apologetic about the wardrobe change.
“Neither is flapper wear.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have anything in your size.” And he sounded genuinely remorseful.
Lucy waged an internal war against admiring his abdominal muscles that had definitely not been sculpted by investigating quantum geometry.
“You never unpacked,” she noted. “Is the whole Spartan aesthetic thing part of your cover?”
A whip-quick headshake. “Between boarding school, uni, and traveling for Professor T, I’ve learned to live with just the essentials. Ready to drop and roll at a moment’s notice.”
“Your essentials include white tie?”
His eyes lanced her as he rose to standing. “That was a special order,” he said. “I wanted to look good for your prom.”
Lucy inhaled through her nose, closing the short distance between them.
“Mission accomplished.”
Ravi smiled. “I could offer you track-suit bottoms? You’ll swim in them, though.”
“You mean sweatpants,” she said, eyeing the puddle of navy blue inside the duffel bag.
“The term ‘sweatpants’ is inherently uncouth.” He pretended to shiver.
She laughed, releasing some of the tension that held her tight.
As Ravi discarded the dress shirt, his eyes followed hers to the scar tissue webbing the left side of his torso. The burn marks were raised, some streaks lighter than his brown skin, others darker.
A muscle twitched in his jaw, and her heart throbbed for the boy who lost his parents. The boy who carried his scars inside and out.
Impulsively, Lucy splayed her hand across them. The tissue was softer than the rest. Ravi shivered as she stroked him, air whistling through his teeth, and he closed his eyes.
Taut silence strained between them. He didn’t stop Lucy’s fingers from exploring, although she could sense him clinging tightly to his virtual shield.
Diffident, opening his eyes, he asked, “Not too off-putting?”
“Not at all.”
Her gaze roamed his torso, then returned to his dark eyes. He slid his arms around her waist, hugging Lucy whisper-close.
“We’ll get Claudia back. I promise,” Ravi told her. Determination filled his voice.
Jolting into action, he released Lucy, pulled the T-shirt over his head, changed his patent-leather dress shoes for combat boots, and grabbed a toolbox from under his bed—all in one blur of motion. Lucy could only watch, dumbfounded.
Ravi held up a wand-shaped metal detector, the kind used at airports.
“Step back and hold up your arms,” he ordered. “Please.”
“Won’t my electromagnetic field confuse the machine?” Lucy asked, raising her arms.
A measured glance. “Possibly.”
Ravi started from behind, skimming the wand down her spine. Lucy’s heart pounded as he examined every inch of her. His movements were performed with military efficiency. But. This was Ravi. She couldn’t help the thrill his nearness inspired.
“How long have you been training with the Archimedeans?” Lucy asked to distract herself. If he noticed her labored breathing, he didn’t let on.
“Since I was fourteen,” he said. When he got the tattoo. Ravi hadn’t had a permanent home since the Order of Sophia killed his family, Lucy realized.
“Seems like a lonely life.” Hers now seemed like a cakewalk by comparison.
“Not so lonely lately.”
Lucy’s breath caught for a second. “So … in addition to getting a Ph.D., the Order has been training you to, what, be all Navy SEAL?”
“I think you mean SAS. But no.” Ravi shook his head, laughing softly, as the wand traveled the length of Lucy’s right arm.
“The Order has many branches, divisions, departments. It’s a bit of a hydra. Too much to explain tonight.” He moved on to her left arm. “Primarily, I’m a researcher. I’m attached to Chrysopoeia Tech, with Professor T. But we all have enough training to take care of ourselves.”
He positioned himself so they were toe-to-toe.
“I’ll keep you safe, Lucy.”
“It’s not my safety that worries me.”
“I know,” he agreed. “And that’s what worries me.”
Beep. The wand detected the necklace. Lucy’s eyes dropped to the night-sky stone.
“Ravi, I’m sorry for blowing up at you back there. What I said about the mole. About this being your fault. It wasn’t fair.”
His brow furrowed. “You weren’t wrong.”
Lucy chewed her lip as Ravi continued scanning her down to the scalloped hem of her dress. Nothing. He muttered something under his breath.
“What is it?” she prodded.
“If there is a tracer, then it’s most likely an isotope.”
Her temper came dangerously close to spiking.
“It’s in my blood?” Meaning there was no way to get rid of it.
“The good news is that the half-life of radioactive isotopes isn’t all that long,” Ravi offered. “It may have worked its way out of your system already.”
“If not?”
He tossed the wand onto the bed and took Lucy’s hand.
“The range for detection is also relatively short. They can’t track you over long distances.”
“Yay for that,” Lucy said.
He interlaced their fingers. “You don’t have to do this. We can find another way.”
“No.” She clenched her fists. “This ends tonight.”