The Wild Charge (Dartmoor Book 9)

Thirty-Nine

Ian finished tucking a pale blue pocket square into Tenny's breast pocket, then stepped back, rested his chin on his knuckles, and gave him a critical once-over. "The wig...could be better."

"It's the best we can do on short notice, and it wasn't cheap," Raven said, arranging the ends of it and giving them one last pass with the flat iron.

"I know. All told, not bad. The suit fits well, at least."

Tenny was no stranger to fittings with tailors, with measurements and cosmetics and being fussed over like a bride, all in the name of altering his appearance for an op. This was no different...in the sense that it was an op. But having Ian and Raven primp him felt much more intimate, and also...relaxing, in an odd way. These weren't handlers or techs; one was his friend, the other was his sister, and all of it felt a bit surreal.

Ian took his shoulder and turned him toward the mirror. "Have a look." His lips quirked, threatening a smile.

A jolt moved through Tenny when he caught sight of his reflection. In one of Ian's dove-gray suits, blue shirt, pocket square neatly tucked, with a long, auburn wig, Ian's watch, and Raven's deft application of a little makeup, he hardly recognized himself.

Ian stepped in close, so their faces rested beside one another. His hair had been carefully braided and tucked up into a black beanie, paired with a slouchy black turtleneck and skinny jeans. Tenny searched their faces, wondering if the disguise would hold. Ian's nose was a little larger and sharper than Tenny's, and Tenny's eyes tilted upward at the outer corners. But that freshwater blue was passably similar, and they both had the finely-bred bone structure of an aristocrat. They were of a height and build. Ian's hands and feet were larger, but that wasn't the sort of thing a potential business partner would make note of.

Tenny reached to tweak a lock of his wig, tucked it behind his ear, and let out a deep breath.

"Nervous?" Ian asked, tone sympathetic.

"Only that this thing won't stay on." He lifted his nose to a haughty angle. "I'm never nervous about my acting." He shifted his posture, curved his lips in a mocking little smile, and affected one of Ian's more elaborate hand gestures. "Darling, I'm afraid I can't concentrate on a word you're saying while you're wearing that dreadful hat."

Ian grinned.

Raven let out an unladylike snort as she stepped up next to him. "God, you've even mastered the voice."

Tenny tossed his head and sent his long, auburn hair shimmering back over his shoulder. "Nothing to it, really."

Raven rolled her eyes. "It's a good thing you're useful, because you're an insufferable brat. Both of you," she added, as she turned away.

Ian affected a bewildered expression. "I've no idea what she means by that."

"Neither do I, darling."

Ian made a face. "Do I really say 'darling' that much?"

"Positively all the time."

~*~

Howard Models was conveniently located in the top four floors of the building next to Jack Waverly's NYC residence. Raven knew that, because the boys had found it out in their recon, but it wasn't until she stepped off the elevator into Nikola's sleek, pop-mod lobby that she glanced through a bank of windows and caught sight of the neighboring apartment building's rooftop garden and pool deck. Ugh.

An emaciated girl with spiky pink hair looked up from a magazine as they approached the desk, gaze flicking over their party with a mix of fatigue and disinterest. "Welcome to Howard Models. Do you have an appointment?" Her gaze lingered a bit too long, brows crimping, on their security detail, which consisted of Bruce, two other of Ian's New York people, and Albie, all in black suits. A few inches shorter and less broad, his suit sourced at the last minute, Albie stuck out a bit like a sore thumb, but there was nothing for it.