Nash Security Solutions

by Lola Silverman

  “The visual person,” Carson agreed. “Any artist would be.”

  He didn’t argue and she was glad for that. Perhaps it was foolish to walk around in the open when there had been someone shooting at her only a few days ago, but it felt as though this whole “assassination scheme” was so convoluted and haphazard that it didn’t even feel real.

  “Look.” Carson pointed to a boy in a black hoodie standing between two buildings. The kid was probably around fourteen or fifteen. “He’s tagging your building.”

  “Huh,” Kayla mused. “Not bad either. He’s definitely got a good eye, but his subject matter needs help.”

  She ignored Carson’s quizzical expression and marched down the block toward the kid. He was obviously not that experienced at the graffiti racket, because he didn’t see her coming until she was standing beside him with her hands on her hips.

  “Uh.” He apparently wasn’t very verbal either. “What do you want?” he demanded.

  Kayla snagged the can of yellow spray paint right out of his hand. “Well, I was going to offer a few tips. You need some. You know?”

  “Lady, you don’t know what you’re…” The boy’s voice died out as Kayla quickly outlined a brilliant sun. She used the paint’s natural misting pattern to affect the sun’s rays.

  “See,” Kayla talked as she worked. “Ideally, you’d have a few more colors. Then you could make the sun shine down on the kids playing basketball, or maybe you could paint a little boy lying on his back staring up at the sun.”

  “How about dead bodies?” The bloodthirsty little savage suggested.

  Kayla snorted. “Zombies, no doubt?”

  “No.” He shook his head and eyed Carson with distrust. “The people that got thrown out of this building. Some of us are still homeless. I’ve got me a place over at the family shelter with my mom, but we can’t find another place to live, and the guy who owns this place wants to triple the rent.”

  Kayla felt a profound sense of distress at hearing this. It was horrible to think that Stedman had done something like this when he didn’t even have the legal right. So, was he trying to turn all of this into trendy, pricey condos then? Maybe industrialization wasn’t his goal. Maybe he was going for gentrification. Either way, it wasn’t good or fair to the neighborhood.

  “That man isn’t the building’s owner,” Kayla said slowly. She gazed down at the boy. “I am.”

  “You?” The kid made a scoffing noise and laughed outright. “You don’t own no building, lady. You barely look old enough to be on your own.”

  “It’s complicated,” Kayla told him. “Show me around. All right? For starters, what’s your name?”

  “Trey.”

  “I’m Kayla.”

  Trey started a running monologue as he showed her through the alleys and streets of this little cross section of the neighborhood. Kayla saw neighborhood gardens filled with people trying to grow a few vegetables using the wan light that filtered down between the buildings. She met Trey’s grandmother, who lived at the shelter with him. They even saw a street performer that Trey was pretty sure would be the next big thing on stage somewhere.

  The entire time Kayla toured her own neighborhood, she felt Carson’s gaze following her. He was a silent presence, a true bodyguard. If Trey noticed him beyond the fact that he reeked of cop-like authority, the kid never said a word.

  Kayla deeply appreciated Carson’s willingness to let her do this her own way. It meant more than words could ever say. Every once in a while, she would catch a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye and marvel at the handsome man who seemed so very interested in her. And not just because someone was paying him to be interested either. Sometimes it really seemed as if Carson cared. Of course, maybe that was because Kayla was beginning to care a whole lot more than she should.

  “So,” Trey said as they circled back around to the place where he’d been tagging her building. “If you’re really some big landlord, when you going to let us move back in?”

  “That’s a good question.” Kayla felt a renewed sense of responsibility to get things cleared up with her uncle. “You know how in the movies there’s always this evil villain that keeps a princess locked in a tower.”

  Trey rolled his eyes. “My sisters watch that crap all day long!”

  “Well, let’s just say that in my case, it’s kind of true. So, even though I got out of the tower, I have to get my stuff back from the evil villain.” Kayla wondered if that description was really valid. Could her Uncle Stedman be that bad? Really? She had just likened the man to a comic book villain. Was it really to that point or was she exaggerating?

  Carson took her hand. “Wrath texted. They’re leaving for Brookline. They’ll meet us there in an hour.”

  Kayla smiled up at him. “All right, thank you.” Then she turned back to Trey. “I’m off to slay the villain.”

  “Good luck with that.” It was all he said before picking up his spray can and going back to vandalizing Kayla’s building.

  CARSON WATCHED KAYLA with the kid and marveled at her patience. He certainly could not say that he had ever aided in vandalizing property that also happened to belong to him. He wasn’t even sure how he would have handled the situation had their situations been reversed. Yet Kayla had taken it all in stride. Perhaps it was because she was an artist. Perhaps it was just because she was a compassionate and empathetic soul. Of course, Carson was quickly becoming biased.

  Kayla started walking back toward the car that Carson had left parked just around the corner from her building’s front door. Her arms were wrapped around her midsection, and she looked more than thoughtful. She looked troubled.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked softly. “You seemed to get along pretty great with the person who was defacing your property.”

  She laughed and glanced up at him. He could see the familiar sparkle in her eyes, but it was dimmer than usual. “I used to graffiti too,” she admitted. “Except it was considered legal because I was hired to paint murals on some of the buildings around the Back Bay. I understand that the whole city cannot be covered in murals. But the kid has a reason for doing what he’s doing, and I feel responsible. Besides, it’s a whole lot better than some of the stuff he could be doing.”

  “You’re a good person.” Carson paused beside the passenger door of the car. “Not many people would have treated that boy the way you did.”

  “Do you think we’re right about my uncle? I mean, really right?”

  The question seemed to come out of left field. Carson didn’t know quite what to say. “Your uncle has done a lot of deliberate and despicable things,” Carson reasoned. “Given that, it’s easy to make assumptions about character and such. But the facts are not wrong. He stole your inheritance. He willfully kept you from what is yours. And he has been yanking my team’s strings since the moment he hired us.” Carson rubbed a hand over his head. “The only thing that seems absolutely certain in this entire fiasco is that your uncle has some plan he hasn’t been honest about.”

  “This whole mystery sucks.” Kayla plopped down on the passenger seat of the car and folded her arms across her chest. She looked a little like Trey. “We have mysterious shooters that only attempt murder once and stalkers that aren’t really stalkers and are too chicken to do much anyway. We have a weird book that belonged to my aunt that mysteriously winds up inside a Russian bar. We have internet banking fraud up the wazoo. And we still have no idea what the hell is going on.”

  Carson chuckled to himself. He closed the passenger door and ran around to the driver’s side. “Then let’s go get some answers,” Carson said as he got into the car.

  He had only just managed to start the vehicle when Kayla’s phone began beeping in her pocket. She pulled it out, and from the corner of his eye, Carson could see her reading a text.

  “You know that part of a story where a piece of information just oh so conveniently falls into the heroine’s lap?” Kayla asked irritably.

  Carson g
lanced in his mirrors before pulling out into the busy traffic of South Boston. “I think everyone is familiar with that moment.”

  “Well, we have one right now.” Kayla was actually pointing to the screen of her smartphone. “My cousin Ralston just texted me a heads-up that, apparently, Uncle Stedman also owns the building where three of the Sokolov’s bars are located. Ralston is looking for evidence that suggests Uncle Stedman bought the buildings as a joint business venture with the Sokolovs.”

  “Let me guess,” Carson said sarcastically as he headed up the highway on-ramp and accelerated. “One of those bars is the White Russian.”

  “Yep.” Kayla groaned. “Do you think that was my uncle’s secret office or something?” She made a frustrated sound. “To think that Tegan and I were in there! We were looking for Sokolov crap, and we should have been looking for stuff on Uncle Stedman!”

  Carson didn’t comment. He didn’t know what to say. She was right. This puzzle had a lot of pieces and not a single one fit together. A man hires a professional security firm full of marines to oversee his security concerns. Yet it was becoming readily apparent that he had very little interest in security. He was more interested in building a private army. Why not just buy a private army? It wasn’t like that wasn’t done. There were mercenaries for hire all over the world. They would come in, kill off a few targets, sweep the underlings into a neat little pile, stomp on them, and throw out the refuse as though it were trash day. Why security? And why involve his family members?

  “We are the definition of dysfunction,” Kayla muttered. Her phone was clicking at a mad rate as she sent off another text. “I just told Tegan that she needs to bring the book. I don’t care if she has to go back to Ava’s and get it. We need that book. It’s our physical evidence.”

  Carson just could not help but wonder what the book was physical evidence of.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kayla could not decide if this was a business meeting, a straight-up confrontation, or an intervention. There were five people standing on her uncle’s doorstep by the time Tegan reached up to ring the bell.

  The morning sun was already high in the sky. Kayla thought about the incongruence of a family that could just show up in the middle of the day for a meeting when anyone else would have been at a regular job with regular hours. None of them had regular hours, and Stedman Hyde-Pierson didn’t really have a job. He just had a position. Both within his own firm and all of those banks where he was misusing his position of authority to steal funds from criminals.

  Yep. They were a fucked-up bunch.

  It didn’t help matters any when Jinx answered the door. The big, blond marine took one look at Wrath and Carson and curled his lip in disdain. “Mr. Hyde-Pierson specifically requested that the two of you be fired from Mr. Nash’s firm.”

  “Mr. Nash?” Wrath said derisively. “I’m sorry, Jinx. Are you just pouting because, apparently, your job description has expanded to include licking Mr. Hyde-Pierson’s ass?”

  Jinx actually raised his hand as though he was going to throw a punch, but it was Ralston Hyde-Pierson that stepped between the men. “Excuse me, but myself, my sister, and my cousin are here to see my father.” Ralston gave Jinx the look that comes from always having money and never having to wonder at your personal value. “I understand that you work here, but I’m certain the Mr. Hyde-Pierson will see us regardless of who we choose to accompany us for security purposes.”

  Oh, that didn’t go over well at all. Kayla had to cover her mouth in a fake kind of cough to avoid laughing out loud as Jinx stomped away. The man actually left the doors wide open.

  Tegan spotted her father’s housekeeper. “Constance! It’s so good to see you!”

  “Miss Tegan,” Constance said with obvious caution. “I don’t know that it’s such a good idea for you to be here.”

  “I promise it’s all right,” Tegan assured the older woman. “How are you? It must be awfully rough having those two Neanderthals around all the time.”

  Constance glanced around and then tiptoed to the doorway. “They’re bad men,” she told Tegan in a whisper. Kayla wondered exactly how much poor Constance knew.

  Tegan patted the old woman’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Constance. We’re all going to be just fine.”

  “I sure hope so.” Constance offered a sunny smile before hurrying away.

  Kayla wondered at the woman who was able to work for Stedman Hyde-Pierson for so many years and see how awful he could be to people and still manage to offer her employer any modicum of respect. Kayla would have sold the man out for pennies by now.

  Finally, Jinx returned with Bridge at his side. Jinx pointed to Ralston. “You and the women can go upstairs to the study.” Jinx smirked. “The piece of shit traitors can wait here.”

  Kayla turned to Carson. She gazed up into his face and saw very clearly that he did not want her to go anywhere without him. Yet there was no doubt that her uncle would deny them the audience if she tried to insist that Carson and Wrath come with them. Stedman was trying to stack the deck. But when it came to cards, the only way to beat her uncle was to cheat.

  Kayla stood on tiptoe and kissed Carson’s cheek. “Find a way in. I know that you can. You know where the study is. I’ll see you there.”

  Beside her, Tegan wasn’t even bothering to murmur any instructions to Wrath. It was already a pretty sure thing that the man would move heaven and earth to find her. In fact, it was a bit of a miracle that he was up and walking around. Considering his wound the night before, he probably should have been in bed.

  “Fine,” Kayla said to Ralston. “The three of us can go in and speak with him. I’m sure that will be sufficient.” She glanced at Jinx and Bridge. “I mean, I’m sure with my uncle’s security right there, we’ll all be perfectly safe.” She almost choked on the blatant lie.

  Carson and Wrath retreated to the bottom of the stairs. The two men took up a position that made it seem as though they were going to be there for a while. Tegan led the way into the house and toward her father’s study. Kayla was in the middle and Ralston brought up the rear.

  It occurred to Kayla that they were presenting her uncle with three of his most lucrative targets in one tasty little morsel. They were literally walking into a trap, and they all knew it. They were either brave, brilliant, or insane. At this point, she could not even be certain which it was.

  Ralston wasn’t done poking at Jinx and Bridge. “Does my father pay the two of you well? I mean, in addition to your salary from Nash of course. It’s not uncommon for my father to pick a few meatheads to add to his personal arsenal of lackeys. Has he got you fetching stuff all day long? That’s usually what happens.”

  Kayla could actually hear Jinx grinding his teeth together. She poked Tegan. Tegan sighed. She had her hand clutched around her mother’s book as she led the way to her father’s study. It was odd, but Kayla could actually remember times when they had been growing up that the three of them had gone to face the music in exactly this fashion. It hadn’t ended well back when they were kids. Hopefully, things were going to be much different this time. Surely twenty years made all the difference, right?

  Tegan pushed her father’s study door open and stepped inside. Like little ducklings, Kayla, Ralston, Bridge, and Jinx all filed in after her. Stedman Hyde-Pierson was sitting at his big ornate desk. He looked up when they walked inside, but he did not smile.

  *

  “Okay, let’s go,” Carson said just as soon as the front door closed behind Kayla and the others.

  Wrath sighed but didn’t argue. Carson was somewhat shocked that he was here. Perhaps that’s what love did to a man. It made him do insane things that were completely inadvisable from a health standpoint.

  “Are you going to be all right?” Carson murmured as they both started creeping around the side of the house.

  They were going the opposite direction of the way they had approached last time. Carson had done that on purpose. The other direction offered
the most obvious egress, but it was also the first place that Jinx and Bridge would look, thanks to earlier excursions. That meant Carson and Wrath had to navigate their way through clinging vines and shrubs as they worked their way around the house itself.

  Wrath wasn’t speaking much. His breathing was labored and he seemed pale. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you bleeding again?” Carson demanded. “Because if you start bleeding, I’m sending you back to the car.”

  “I’m fine,” Wrath insisted. “Although, it would be nice if we went in and just completely took Bridge and Jinx out of the equation.”

  Carson mulled that one over while peering through the leafy shrubs to see if there was anyone out and about on the property that might spot their daylight prowling. “Syringes?” Carson finally suggested. “I didn’t bring any.”

  “How fortunate that I did.” Wrath patted the side pocket of his cargos. “Actually, that doctor guy gave these to me before I went. He told me that combat was a bad idea, so he suggested this as an alternative.”

  “Brutal,” Carson muttered. “But effective.”

  Carson found an odd side door hidden behind some brush and a privacy fence painted dark brown to match the foliage. “I think we go in here. Do you have your picks?”

  Wrath pulled them out. To his credit, his hands only shook a little while he opened the lock. The door swung out and the marines entered the building. What they saw made Carson decide it was time to reevaluate the entire situation.

  “What. The. Fuck?” Wrath stared around at the arsenal housed within this one small room.

  Carson shook his head. He had no answer for why a businessman in the finance industry would have an entire room full of weaponry. There was everything from hand grenades and flash bombs to semi-automatic rifles and handguns. Shelves loaded with ammunition lined the walls. It was a marine’s dream come true, but Carson couldn’t imagine what a banker would do with it.