The cop leaned back in his seat. The chair groaned under the weight of him. “So, that story lines up with what your Mr. Wrath told us.”
“Then the problem is?” Mr. Nash prompted.
“The fight in the holding cell, that’s what,” the cop said irritably. “We got two injured men now. Your Wrath started a fight with this other dude who was just in for minor possession.”
Tegan gasped. “I don’t believe that! What did Wrath say?”
“He claims the guy came up to him and said there’s a contract out on his life,” the sergeant scoffed. “It’s a load of crap, if you ask me.”
Beside her, Tegan could feel the slow, simmering anger that was making Mr. Nash vibrate with irritation. “Sergeant, if my employee says that there is a contract out on his life, then I would like to speak with him. We are working a case that involves the Russian mafia. Do you understand what that means?” Mr. Nash’s slow, careful way of expressing himself made the sergeant look a little nervous. Then Nash put his hands flat on the table, stood up, and leaned in close to the sergeant’s face. “Antonin Sokolov has sworn to murder the members of Mr. Stedman Hyde-Pierson’s family. That is why Mr. Hyde-Pierson employed my firm to protect his interests. He is working with the Boston police, who have assured me that my team and I have their full cooperation in our work to keep the Hyde-Pierson family safe. So, if you would like to call your captain, I’m sure he can explain to you that I need you to release my employee right now!”
The last two words were delivered in a roar that seemed to echo off the interior of the tiny room and reverberate with such force that Tegan could have sworn her teeth were chattering in their sockets.
“Right.” The sergeant leaped to his feet. His ungainly body sent the chair he had just occupied flying. “I’ll have Mr. Wrath right out to you!”
Chapter Fourteen
“Oh my God!” Analise swore as she poked at the cut on his neck and shoulder. “If you die, it will all be thanks to the incompetence of the Boston PD. Seriously! Where do they get their EMT training? This bandage is practically cutting off all circulation to the area. You might as well beg for gangrene to set in!”
Wrath sighed. It was good to be home. Even Analise’s bitching was a relief after that holding cell. He picked up the whisky bottle and took a long slug as Analise resumed her poking, prodding, and stabbing him with various needles she kept swearing were injections of antibiotics and not swords she was trying to murder him with.
Nash stepped up into the surveillance truck and grabbed a chair. He flipped it around backwards and sat down with his forearms resting on the back. “So? The sergeant mentioned that the loser that attacked you in that cell claimed that there was a contract out on us?”
“That’s the rumor,” Wrath muttered. He really didn’t want to think about this right now. “You ever heard of anything like that? I want to know what kind of mafia boss puts out a hit on a security firm because some businessman refuses to launder his money and then hires said security firm to keep his family safe. I smell bullshit, and I want to know what the fuck is going on before I step in any more of it.”
Nash grunted. “I’ve never heard of anything like this.”
“Have you dealt with all that many mafia cases?” Analise did not look up from bandaging Wrath’s shoulder. She put a tiny square of gauze in place and then used tape.
Wrath yelped as Analise slapped a huge ice pack on his bare skin. “Hey! Are you bummed out that I lived through this or something? That shit is cold and it hurts!”
“Quit being a baby,” Analise told him with a smack to the back of his head. “And I was serious about the mafia thing, Nash. Have you worked with a lot of those cases? Because I would think that every nationality has their own traditions and protocol. So maybe the Italians wouldn’t, but the Russians would?”
Nash rubbed a hand down his face. “I guess I don’t really know the nuances. I’ll contact an old acquaintance that used to work in the FBI organized crime division. He can hopefully shed some light on our situation.”
Wrath pointed at Nash. “What if Stedman is lying? Have we really mined that topic yet? I mean, really? The guy’s family doesn’t believe he’s on the up and up. Why should we?”
“Your opinion on that topic is compromised,” Nash shot back. He curled his lip at Wrath. “You’re sleeping with the client. Anything she says has a different flavor for you than it does for us. Of course she hates her father. He makes her work hard and refuses to spoil her.”
“Oh, really.” Wrath rolled his anger into a tiny little ball and crammed it deep down. “Is that what her mother says as well? Because I couldn’t help but notice how chummy the two of you were.”
“Whoa, whoa!” Analise held up her hands and placed herself between the two of them. “The testosterone levels in this vehicle are reaching toxic levels. Can you two just chill out for a minute?”
“No. I can’t.” Wrath stood up and shoved past Nash to get to the door. “I’m too compromised to think clearly right now.”
Pushing his way out of the surveillance truck, Wrath took a step down and turned to the right. That’s when he saw a pale-faced Tegan staring right back at him. He hadn’t seen her yet since coming back from lockup. Analise had picked him up at the police station. Nash had even refused Wrath’s request to at least send Tegan a note to say that he was all right. He knew that his boss wasn’t intentionally trying to make things worse. Nash thought he was doing the right thing by them both. At least in his own pushy and often overbearing way.
“You’re all right,” Tegan whispered. “I was worried.”
To hell with propriety. Wrath gathered Tegan in his arms and held her close. He didn’t even care that it made both the new and old wounds on his shoulders burn in protest. It was too important to feel Tegan’s curves against him right now. He pressed his cheek to the top of her silky head and inhaled the scent of her. She squeezed him tight and clenched her fingers into the fabric of his T-shirt.
“I was so worried,” she whispered. “Is what Mr. Nash saying true? Are you compromised because of me?”
“My judgment?” he grunted. “No. Nash is doing what he thinks is best, but I know that you’re not trying to cast doubt on your father just because he made you angry or because you’re a spoiled princess.”
“He’s hiding something,” Tegan told him. “You have to take me there.”
“Where?” The only place Wrath wanted to take Tegan was to her bedroom.
“My father’s house in Brookline.”
Wrath drew back to gaze down into her very determined face. “Why?”
“Because I intend to snoop around in his office and see if I can find out what he’s really hiding.” Tegan delivered this announcement with all of the brash confidence of the uninitiated.
Wrath sighed. “You’re not going to let this go until you’ve had your chance to snoop, are you?” It wasn’t really a question. He was not unfamiliar with the sort of resolve she was obviously feeling. It was usually what got him into what he considered “lasting trouble.”
“Help me,” she asked softly. “Please?”
He touched her lips with his index finger. “All right, but you have to follow my orders. No questions asked. If I say we’re leaving, we’re going. Even if you haven’t found what you wanted.”
“Okay. No questions asked.”
He didn’t believe that for a second.
*
Tegan could not decide if it was nervousness or excitement making her feel like she was going to throw up at any second. Her father’s estate seemed nearly deserted. Wrath was a silent presence in front of her, and it felt as though they were the only two people in the entire place.
Tegan poked Wrath in the back. “I thought your Mr. Nash had people stationed here or something?”
“If your father went out, they went with him,” Wrath murmured. “I’m going to walk along behind you once we get inside the front door. If you see any of your father’s staff, re
member that you belong here, and work it. Got it?”
She sucked in a deep breath. She could do this. She’d been acting her whole life. Right? Besides. It was her father’s house. She did belong here. She had a suite of rooms here. It was not inconceivable that she would have left something behind the other night. There. She had a cover story. Now she felt confident.
Shaking her hair back over her shoulders, Tegan tried to be as normal as possible. It was just kind of difficult when she could actually feel Wrath’s eyes glued to her butt as she walked. It was tempting to turn around and say something sassy, but it wouldn’t be productive.
They entered her father’s home with little to no trouble. The housekeeper met her at the door and answered with a smile. “Did you forget something the other night, Miss Tegan?”
“Yes, Constance,” Tegan said with an almost rueful smile. “I’ll just run up and get it myself. Sorry to bother you.”
“Oh, no bother!” Constance headed back toward the kitchen. “Your father went to an afternoon meeting.”
“On a Saturday?” Tegan mused. “That man works too hard, hmm?”
Constance waved over her shoulder as she disappeared into the butler’s pantry. “Oh, of course! Always!”
Tegan knew that her father’s staff would never say a word against him. They were all too aware that he signed their paychecks and had a zero-tolerance policy for gossip. So, she turned away from Constance, and with Wrath at her heels, she headed upstairs. Her suite was on the third floor, but the second floor was her goal.
Down the curving hallway she went. They stopped before the last door on the left. This was her father’s private study. If he had anything of interest that would explain their current predicament, then it would be in here.
The door was unlocked. Tegan wondered if it was always unlocked. She had never been in here without her father. How odd. Well, it was of no consequence at the moment, although it was a piece of information she would file away for future use.
She slipped inside the study and left the door open. Going immediately to her father’s desk, Tegan made a gesture to Wrath. “Keep watch. I’m going to look for any papers that mention Sokolov or money or any of that together.”
Wrath took up a position near the doorway. Tegan very carefully and methodically searched her father’s desk. It was painfully neat, which made the search even more difficult. She could remember being a child and realizing that her father would know if she had touched anything just because she had put it back in not exactly the same position. Now as an adult, she knew to take a mental photograph of anything she touched and return it to its place just so. But that did not make for a quick search.
Her father was an accountant at heart. That meant he kept copious records of everything. And when she opened up the file cabinet on the right side of his desk, she realized that there was an entire file on Mr. Nash and his employees. Each employee had a dossier. It was really tempting to stand there and read Wrath’s, but she did not have time for that. It wasn’t the reason she’d come here.
She pushed behind that file and suddenly found something worth perusing. There was a whole file on Sokolov! Tegan gently pulled it out and started flipping through the contents. She could not believe the amount of information her father had on the Russian mobster. Information on the man’s estates, his properties, his business holdings, and his family members. There was even a list of his favorite restaurants and the foods he liked to eat, in the file. Weirdly, there was everything but a photograph. Her father had photos of all of Mr. Nash’s men, but not Sokolov. How odd. It made very little sense unless the Russian guy was a recluse or something.
“Someone is coming,” Wrath said in a low, terse voice. “We need to get out of here.”
“Who is it?” Tegan whispered.
“Your father.” Wrath paused. He was craning his neck to one side to see out the door. “Quinten is with him.”
“Is that good?”
“It means we won’t get out of here. Better make a plan.”
Tegan forced herself to take her time setting the drawer back to rights. Her father would instantly know that she had been in his desk drawers if she did not. He was too fastidious not to. Then she carefully closed the drawer and dashed over to take a seat on the couch.
It was hard to sit there and look normal. She crossed her legs and positively lounged in the corner of the sofa. Examining her nails, she tried to look completely composed when her father pushed his way through the partially open doorway.
“What are you doing here?” Stedman Hyde-Pierson seemed uncertain if he should address Wrath’s silent presence behind Tegan, or Tegan herself. He kept looking from one to the other.
Tegan gestured almost insolently to Wrath. “He’s stayed with me just as you ordered him to, poor man. I dragged him along because I had to tell you about an incident that occurred on campus yesterday.”
Her father went to his desk and sat down. “Oh?”
Tegan caught a glimpse of the other bodyguard—Quinten—from the corner of her eye. He was exchanging a wealth of information with Wrath via very pointed looks. At least that’s what Tegan suspected.
“Yes,” Tegan continued, picking up where she had left off. “I stopped by today to pick up some clothing I’d left in my suite the other night.” She couldn’t get Constance in trouble after all. “And I realized that I hadn’t spoken to you since Judson Politte made me an offer of marriage.”
Tegan had expected her father to laugh or protest or something. Unfortunately, he did none of that. Stedman Hyde-Pierson raised his brows and smiled. “And did you accept?”
“I did no such thing!” Tegan was more than a little outraged. “I hardly know the man. We’ve not even dated. I didn’t even know he was interested.”
“Well, if I were you—or rather if you know what’s good for you—you’ll tell him you’ve reconsidered and take him up on the offer.” Her father pointed to the door. “Now, if you don’t mind? I have work to do.”
Chapter Fifteen
For Wrath, life had always been fairly simple. A man followed the orders he was given. He did his level best to accomplish the task and finish what had been set for him. Personal matters were minor and of very little consequence.
At least that had been the way of things until Tegan Hyde-Pierson had come storming into his life. Now, everything was complicated and his old way of dealing with things seemed moot.
He followed Tegan out of her father’s house. She was quiet. Too quiet. He could actually feel her seething inside. Or maybe that was his own feelings. It was difficult to tell. Wrath wasn’t used to his personal feelings about anything being an issue. This was different. Listening to her father essentially tell her to go get married to that moron in the skinny jeans with a jaunty scarf around his neck was tantamount to telling her that Stedman Hyde-Pierson didn’t care if his daughter was happy or not.
“It’s about money,” Tegan muttered as she got into the passenger side of Wrath’s car. “It’s all about money.”
Wrath didn’t comment. He didn’t quite know what to say. Of course it was about money. Wasn’t everything? At least that had been Wrath’s experience in dealing with people like Tegan’s father. He started the car and pulled out of the driveway.
The wide Brookline street was lined with long fences. Huge estate houses were tucked behind protective barriers made up of stately old trees. This was the world where Tegan had grown up.
Tegan suddenly looked over at him and pegged him with a hard stare. “Would you say something?”
“What would you like me to say?” He had to clear his throat. His voice made it sound as though he’d been swallowing gravel. “I could remind you that you’re an adult. It doesn’t matter what your father says. You can do as you like.”
“He’s my boss,” she muttered. “Or he will be in a few months.”
“That still doesn’t give him the right to dictate your personal life,” Wrath pointed out. “What do you want?”
>
Why did it feel as though his entire future rested on her answer? Of all the reasons he could think of that it had been stupid to start a physical relationship with her, this was the one he had not necessarily given much credence to. Wrath could not—in any world—give her the sort of life that she was accustomed to. It just normally didn’t matter because he wasn’t the long-term type anyway. A few nights spent together. Hell, they’d only had actual sex once, right? Yet here he was picturing some white picket fence and a dog or some other such nonsense.
“I’ve dreamed of being the CFO of Pierson Financial since I was a little girl,” Tegan whispered. “I’ve never even considered another path.”
“Then this is your decision to make on your own,” Wrath said curtly. “It’s none of my business. I’m just here to stop the bullets.”
“That’s not fair!” She actually reached across the car and punched him in the arm.
The contact hurt, but only because he’d basically been stabbed there earlier. Wrath sighed. “What do you want me to say? Obviously, you have something in mind or you wouldn’t care that I’m not following the script.”
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