* * *
WHEN HE LOOKED at her, he saw a curvy, luscious body, full and round in all the right places. A body he wasn’t afraid to admit he’d dreamed about holding on more than one lonely night.
Get a grip.
His father, James West Sr., would have a fit if he knew what Ryan was thinking about a client. Shelton Hotels was one of West Security’s oldest clients since Nadia’s father had signed his first contract with West more than twenty years ago. Back then, his dad had focused primarily on alarms and security cameras for commercial businesses.
Ryan knew his father had hoped that all four of his sons would take over the firm, but James Jr. had decided to pursue a career in the military, and Brandon had earned his law degree. That left Ryan and Shawn, the youngest Wests, to follow in their father’s footsteps.
In the years since joining the firm, Ryan and Shawn had expanded the business into a multifaceted, full-service security management firm that handled residential, commercial and personal security needs, as well as investigations of all types for some of the world’s most prominent businesses and individuals. They’d also gotten their private investigator licenses and taken on fraud, cyber security and other investigations for their clients.
These days, James Sr. let his sons run the business, preferring the golf course to the office, but he stayed in the loop. More importantly, he held controlling interest and had made it clear that if he thought the boys were on the wrong track with the business, he wouldn’t hesitate to take the company away from them. And there was no way their father would see dating the CEO of one of their best clients as anything other than a dumb business move.
Ryan glanced at Nadia again, her chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep.
He’d keep his hands to himself, but there was no way he’d leave her to deal with whatever this was on her own. Private, round-the-clock security started in the tens of thousands. Shelton Hotels was thriving under Nadia’s leadership, but he doubted she’d be able to cover the tab for private security for long. He’d make it work. His brothers wouldn’t like working for free, but they’d love having an IOU from him and something to hold over his head.
He turned the SUV into the parking garage under his apartment building. He only lived about a mile from Sentinel, but city traffic was such that even at midnight, a mile drive took longer than he’d like.
He backed the SUV into the space reserved for his unit and shut off the engine.
Nadia didn’t stir.
He considered carrying her to his apartment, but after a moment, her eyelids fluttered, and she lifted her head. “I’m sorry. I’m usually better company.”
“I’m sure your body needed the rest, with everything you’ve been through tonight. Come on. I’ll show you to the guest room, and you can get some sleep.”
He waved a small key fob over the plate built into the elevator control panel, and the button for the penthouse level lit up.
“The penthouse.” Nadia’s eyebrows ticked up as she smiled. “The security business must pay well.”
Embarrassment ticked the back of his neck. West Security was doing well, but that had little to do with where he lived. He’d left the Army and moved back into his childhood bedroom at his father’s place. He loved his dad, but that arrangement got old two weeks in. He hadn’t cared about the apartment’s aesthetics, just that it was his and walking distance from West’s Upper West Side offices. He’d given Camille, his brother James’s wife and a real estate agent, a budget and his meager must-haves and let her loose apartment shopping. He’d barely looked at the place before signing on the dotted line.
The elevator opened to a stark white hallway with an apartment on either side. Before moving in, he’d run a background check on his would-be neighbor. A pioneer in online gaming, richer than Caesar and a virtual recluse. In the five years he’d lived in the building, they hadn’t said more than ten words. The perfect neighbor as far as Ryan was concerned.
The entrance to his apartment contained a small foyer with a long wall blocking the view of most of the apartment.
He tossed his keys into a basket on the table in front of the wall and led Nadia into the main living space. After months of prodding, he’d finally given in to Camille’s pressure to let her decorate the living-room space. The outcome was sleek, contemporary furniture with sharp lines and lots of dark leather. Camille conceded to his tastes by artfully arranging a display of art history coffee-table books on the end tables. The overall effect landed nowhere near the rustic feel that he preferred. Since most of his time at home was spent sleeping or watching a game or movie on the big-screen television he’d had installed on the backside of the foyer wall, he hadn’t seen the point in paying to have the space redecorated.
Nadia’s eyes scanned the large space, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the apartment would look like if she lived here. He shook off the thought before it took him to a dangerous place. She was staying with him until he knew she’d be safe, not moving in.
“I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”
He led her past the kitchen area and through the living room to the bedrooms. Despite the generously sized living room and kitchen, there were only two bedrooms, each with its own en suite bathroom and walk-in closet. A king-size mahogany sleigh bed with matching dresser and night tables anchored the room. The claw-foot tub was visible through the cracked bathroom door.
Nadia bit her lip, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I hate to bother you for anything else, but I didn’t pack any clothes from my place. Can I borrow a T-shirt to sleep in?”
He shook his head, annoyed with himself for not thinking to have her pack a bag. Nadia wasn’t the only one who needed to get some rest. “Of course.”
Crossing the hall, he pulled a Knicks T-shirt from his bureau and a pair of socks. There was no way she’d fit into his sweats, but the shirt and socks should do for one night.
“We’ll figure out the clothes situation tomorrow,” he said, handing her the shirt.
“I’ll be able to go back to my apartment by then, right?”
If he was right about the events of today being connected, Nadia’s pursuers were persistent and determined. That didn’t bode well for her being able to go back to life as usual anytime soon. He wouldn’t lie to her, but it was late, and they both needed to rest if they wanted to deal with the situation with a clear head in the morning.
Before common sense could stop him, he ran his hand gently down the side of her face. “I don’t know, sweetheart, but we’ll do our best to get you back in your place as soon as it’s safe.”
He slid his arm around her waist and tugged her against him.
Nadia peered up at him with wide eyes. He could close the gap between them, just duck his head down and let his lips graze hers. Would she welcome him or think he was hitting on her?
Just the idea that she might think he was taking advantage had him stepping back, his hands falling to his side.
“If you need anything, I’ll be right across the hall.”
He strode to his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind him and leaning against it.
What was he thinking? She was a client, a client in danger no less. He’d brought her here to keep her safe, not to hit on her. Not only was his behavior totally unprofessional but he didn’t take advantage of vulnerable women. He was not that guy.
He pushed off the door and crossed to the king-size poster bed that ate up most of the bedroom. He sat with his back against his headboard and opened his laptop. Shawn had forwarded the information on the owner of the stolen SUV Nadia’s pursuers might be driving. The owner, a forty-three-year-old dentist and father of four, had no criminal record and no connection to Nadia or Shelton Hotels that Shawn could find.
He clicked to a second email, this one from Gideon. Still shots from the camera in Sentinel earlier that ev
ening. They had a good shot of the man that had come in through the front door and a not-too-good one of the man that had come through the back. He’d get someone on upgrading those cameras. Gideon’s email was one line. Working on identifications.
Good. The faster they found out who these guys were, the faster they’d sort this out.
Ryan opened a second email from Shawn. This one contained attachments with background on Nadia and Nathan Shelton.
West routinely conducted background checks on the principals of the companies they worked for. Even though he’d ordered thousands of reports over the years, for the first time he felt uncomfortable reading one, as though he was snooping into Nadia’s life.
He pushed the feeling away and scanned the report.
Nadia’s father, Calvin Shelton, had worked his way up from porter to general manager at a now-defunct downtown hotel. In the mid-1970s, Calvin purchased the Harlem property that would become the flagship of his small hotel chain.
A marriage in Calvin’s fifties produced Nathan and Nadia before his much-younger wife succumbed to cancer. He ran the hotels until his death six years ago. After Calvin’s death, Nadia and Nathan took over management of the company. Eleven months ago, at thirty-five years old, Nadia became the sole owner of Shelton Hotels when Nathan perished in a car accident while vacationing in Maine.
Nadia had graduated from State University with a degree in architecture, which explained the pictures of famous bridges gracing her office walls. She’d also received a certificate in business administration, confirming what he already knew. She was way too smart to be dating him.
His cell phone rang beside him.
“How’s it going?” Shawn asked without preamble.
“All’s quiet here. Nadia’s gone to bed.”
“You in there with her?”
“Don’t be a jerk.”
“Gimme a break, bro. You’ve had a thing for Nadia Shelton for, like, a year. Now, she’s sleeping in your guest room, and you want to tell me you haven’t thought about joining her?”
“I do not have a thing for Nadia Shelton.” Ryan ignored the memories of almost kissing her that pushed their way into his head. “The woman is in trouble. I’m doing my job.”
“Yeah, right.” Shawn’s guffaw was clear through the phone.
“Did you call to annoy me?”
“No, that was just for fun. Did you get my emails?”
“Looking at them now.”
The clicking sound of keys being tapped sounded on Shawn’s end of the line. “Sent you a video from Sentinel.”
Ryan clicked on Shawn’s email. A shot of a tall, well-muscled man, with dark facial hair covering the bottom of his face, filled the computer screen. He watched as the man scanned the crowd looking for someone.
“The second guy came in the back like she said, but it’s not a good shot,” Shawn said.
“We need to—”
“I know. Already got a man upgrading the camera. In any event, I didn’t recognize the guy we can see clearly. I’ll send the shot around the office tomorrow to see if anyone else can get us a name.”
“Skip to the stuff about Nathan Shelton.”
Ryan opened Nate’s background check. Four years Nadia’s senior, Nate had graduated from State with a business and finance degree. Despite never marrying, Nate, a rich, good-looking hotelier, had been part of several high-profile, short-term relationships, although he appeared to be unattached at the time of his death. His background check showed a misdemeanor arrest for marijuana possession and an arrest for assault stemming from a bar fight, both from his early twenties. In both cases, the police dropped the charges before trial.
“A couple of arrests twenty years ago. But nothing that would explain what’s happening now,” Ryan said.
“Keep reading. Miss Shelton’s brother liked to keep company with some bad dudes.”
The report on Nate was thorough and included information on Nate’s close associates, several of whom dabbled in drugs, guns and money laundering, although there was no indication Nate himself had been involved in illegal stuff.
“Notice who’s in the picture I included in the report,” Shawn said.
Ryan scanned the high-resolution pictures included in the report. Five men stood shoulder to shoulder outside what looked like a nightclub. The report identified each of the men, but Ryan was most interested in the man standing next to Nate. Brian Leroy.
“Nate and Brian Leroy look chummy,” Ryan said.
Leroy styled himself as a small-business investor. In reality, the money he invested came from the mob. The owners of the companies that Leroy invested in soon found themselves with less and less control. The few that resisted retirement were met with unexplainable accidents, leaving them unable to work. Or worse.
“It’s a place to start. If Shelton hung out with Leroy, there’s no telling what he could have been involved in.” Shawn paused. “There’s no indication that Nadia knows Leroy, but you should find out if she recognizes him.”
Ryan fought the urge to bite Shawn’s head off. He didn’t believe for a millisecond Nadia would get tangled up with the likes of Leroy. But he wouldn’t be doing his job if he didn’t follow up as Shawn suggested. Even if she wasn’t doing business with Leroy, she may have seen him with Nate and know whether the two men had business dealings with each other.
“I’ll take care of it,” Ryan said. “In the meantime, can you dig up everything you can on Mike Dexter? And do you think you can work your magic and get me the police report on Nathan Shelton’s death?”
“Anything else I can get for you while I’m waving my magic wand?” Shawn drawled.
“That’s it for now,” Ryan shot back.
“I’ll see what I can do. No promises. Why do you want the police report, anyway?”
“Just covering all the bases.”
Ryan ended the call and opened a browser window. West paid for several of the top-of-the-line background information programs, but it still paid to do a run-of-the-mill internet search. If people really understood how much of their personal information floated around on the World Wide Web, they’d never touch a computer again.
A search for Nathan’s name produced more links than Ryan could read. He scrolled through the list reading the headlines announcing various charity functions and events Nathan had appeared at and donations from Shelton Hotels. It was obvious Nathan enjoyed being the face of Shelton Hotels. There were no hints of Nate being involved in criminality and no other pictures of him with Leroy. But there were a handful of articles about Nate’s death. Ryan clicked on one.
While vacationing in Maine, Nathan Shelton’s car had plunged off the side of a cliff. The police attributed the accident to driver error, but since the authorities believed Nate’s body had washed out to sea, they hadn’t been able to confirm. There was a string of related articles linked at the end, most of them about Nate’s active social life.
One article caught Ryan’s eye. Nadia’s engagement announcement. Two and a half years ago Nadia had promised to marry Dr. Wallace Hardee.
A search for Hardee turned up the same engagement announcement and an article about Hardee’s work at Mount Sinai’s pediatric unit.
A doctor. He seemed like exactly the type of man a woman like Nadia should be with. So why had they split up?
He closed the laptop and tossed it on the bed before striding to the bathroom. He braced his hands on the granite vanity, staring at his reflection.
He’d been close to kissing Nadia, too close. She was a client, not to mention way out of the league of a junior-college dropout. He had to remember that and keep his hands to himself.
There was no question Nadia would be safe from the goons after her as long as she remained with him.
But would his heart be safe from her?
* * *
IT TOOK SOME ti
me to fall asleep. When she finally drifted off, she was plagued with dreams of being chased by large, menacing men. A meaty hand had just wrapped itself around her arm when the distant sound of a phone ringing pulled her from the nightmare.
Nadia dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom. Her reflection was a nightmare of a different sort. Without her sleeping bonnet to protect them, her curls had tangled into a rat’s nest. Dark circles loitered under her eyes, and her mouth was as dry as cotton. There was only so much she could do without her usual accoutrements, but a hot shower would go a long way. A shelving unit built into the white-marble vanity held towels, a basket of unopened toiletries and a comb that she used to tame her wild mane.
She turned on the shower and shed her T-shirt. Multiple shower jets, including a rain showerhead, pummeled her tired body.
By the time she finished, she felt human again. She needed a cup of coffee and something to quell her growling stomach, but then she planned to put her mind to figuring out who was after her and why.
She put on her suit from the day before and padded down the hallway. The scent of brewing coffee and cinnamon hit her as she rounded the wall separating the kitchen from the bedrooms.
Her stomach did a flip that had nothing to do with hunger. Ryan stood over the stove, a tight black shirt accentuating massive biceps and jeans cradling a behind that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo.
Ryan looked up from the griddle where French toast sizzled. His eyes stroked her from head to toe, heating every inch of her body. If she didn’t know what she looked like, she might have thought the look in his eyes was desire.
“Coffee?” Ryan’s husky timber shot through her.
“Yes, please.” She ripped her gaze away and headed for the coffee maker.
Coffee in hand, Nadia slid into a chair in the breakfast nook next to the kitchen. She’d barely noticed the apartment the night before, but now she took in the stunning view of the Hudson River from the large window. The apartment was an open floor plan with a large island delineating the kitchen from a sunken living room with its own equally stunning views of the city.
Pursuit of the Truth Page 4