All of a sudden, Analise wasn’t sure this was a good idea. She followed behind Ava as they took Francesca’s lead into the living room. It felt awkward as hell to sit with these sophisticated women. Analise’s experience with manners and social situations had been limited to one semester of etiquette in her small-town high school. She had failed that class spectacularly after she and a few of the boys had engaged in a burping contest in the classroom when the teacher was late one morning. They had been caught, and the results had been worse than embarrassing.
“So you two have obviously come for something in particular,” Francesca said as she took a seat on the very prim striped loveseat. “Why don’t we just cut to the chase?”
Ava glanced at Analise, but her earlier confidence seemed to have vanished. Finally, Ava sighed. “This is Analise. She’s been helping Ralston and Nash try to unravel some of this mess.”
“She’s been helping Ralston?” Suddenly Francesca was staring at Analise with unbridled interest and something akin to rabid curiosity. Then she glanced back at Ava. “Is she living with Ralston the same way that Quinten is staying with me?”
“It’s not living with him,” Analise protested before she could check herself. “I’m just keeping an eye on things.”
“I’m sure.” Francesca actually laughed. “Ralston is my nephew, and I’ve watched that boy grow up, but I’m quite certain that any woman in a ten-mile radius would want to keep an eye on him.”
“Or both of them,” Ava added.
The two women were laughing. It didn’t seem rude. Analise didn’t really feel defensive. It was more embarrassed at this point. She didn’t know how to react. So, she cleared her throat and attempted to be dismissive. “He’s a very handsome man. I’ll admit that. But Ralston and I are leagues apart in every way. I’m sure he would never think twice about me as anything other than an employee.” Why did it burn so badly to say that out loud? It was true. Wasn’t it?
Ava rolled her eyes. “Ralston might try to look the part of his father sometimes, but he could never stand one of those society marriages like Stedman wants for him.”
“Remember that one young woman?” Francesca put in. She snapped her fingers. “What was her name?”
“Chelsea Ettinger?” Analise offered automatically. Then she realized she should have kept her mouth closed.
“How do you know about Chelsea?” Ava demanded. Her expression was frightening.
Analise held up both hands so there would be no question of her surrender. “She showed up at Ralston’s front door last night. He invited her in briefly. I think he intended to reinforce the fact that they were no longer a couple.”
“Men.” Francesca rolled her eyes. “What a way to tell a girl you don’t want to see her. Invite her in, why don’t you?”
“I know, right?” Analise burst out. Then she put both hands over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to criticize.”
Ava smiled warmly. “It shows you have good sense. Don’t worry about it. I know my son isn’t perfect.”
“So, what happened?” Francesca prompted. “You’re leaving me hanging here.”
“Oh.” Analise shrugged. “There were words. The woman talks too much. Like way too much. She yapped, he told her off, she kept yapping, so I threw her over my shoulder and tossed her out.”
“Out?” Francesca’s green eyes were wide with wonder. “Like out of the house?”
“Like kicked her to the curb,” Analise confirmed. “I was tired of listening to her try to manipulate him. It was pathetic.”
Ava made a disgusted noise. “I hate women like that. If a guy isn’t interested, cut your losses and just move on. Right?”
“Exactly!” Analise agreed. “I think Ralston was amused by how I got rid of her. Although, I think he probably should have been firmer from the beginning.”
Francesca snorted. “What you don’t know is that Chelsea was chosen for Ralston by his father. So, she was probably getting pressure from her father to close the deal. Clive Ettinger wants a piece of Pierson Financial.”
“What he doesn’t realize,” Ava added, “is that there aren’t any pieces left.”
“You really own half?” Analise gestured to Francesca. “Pardon me, but how have you stayed alive this long?”
Francesca pulled her legs up into her seat. She looked so young and vulnerable. It was very strange to think that she had buried one husband and had to be at least forty years old. Maybe there was a magic anti-aging potion that rich people took to make themselves look decades younger.
It was Ava who finally spoke, but she addressed Francesca. “Do you still have the letter, Frankie?”
Francesca nodded but said nothing for a long time. Analise forced herself to remain silent. This was not the time to botch things up or speak out of turn. Ava was actually trying to help Analise for some reason. Screwing that up would be on the short list of stupid things.
Finally, Francesca sighed. “There’s nothing in that letter that would help you, Ava. I’m not sure what you think is in it. I’m not sure what Stedman believes is in it either. Sometimes I’m almost certain that my asshole brother-in-law believes there’s a bank code or some other magic words that will miraculously turn the rest of the business over to him.”
“You mean Stedman believes the letter is an addendum to the will,” Analise guessed. “He thinks you’re keeping it hidden so that you can deny him what he considers his.”
“Exactly.” Francesca pursed her lips. “You’re quick.”
“I’ve had to be,” Analise mused. “I grew up in a tiny town as the minister’s daughter. I wasn’t much of a lady, and I hated going to church. Good grades and the marines were my only way out of what my parents had planned for me.”
“Let me guess,” Ava said sarcastically. “Marriage to a nice young man from their church who would keep you in line and have you so busy making babies that you wouldn’t have any more time to be rebellious.”
Analise bobbed her head up and down. Even hearing it now made her cringe. “Very, very close. He was from the next small town over. A minister’s son.”
“Spawn of Satan,” Francesca joked. “I’m glad you escaped though.”
“Me too,” Ava added. “Ralston needs you.”
“Pardon me?” Analise was sure she’d heard wrong. “You said Ralston needs me?”
“Oh yes!” Ava nodded emphatically. “He keeps trying to tell himself that there’s a mold he has to fit into, but that’s a load of horse shit.”
Watching the words “horse shit” come out of Ava’s mouth was a jaw-dropping experience for Analise. The woman was certainly not like she would have expected. In fact, Ava and Francesca were extremely likeable.
“You Hyde-Pierson women aren’t like I expected,” Analise admitted.
Francesca’s grin was warm and genuine. “Let me guess. You expected snooty bitches in designer clothes who were too good to laugh at a joke and pretended that they were better than everyone else?”
“Well, yes.” Analise thought about it for a moment more. “I suppose I expected a bunch of Chelsea Ettingers.”
“God help us!” Ava groaned. “Can you imagine? I would have to kick my own ass.”
“Ava was never like Chelsea,” Francesca put in. “Not even when she was one of the richest little debutantes in Boston.”
“I hate that word,” Ava told them with obvious distaste. “It’s so not me.”
“Maybe it’s not bad to be a debutante,” Analise reasoned. “It’s like being a marine. That’s just a label. It’s the way the person is inside that counts.”
“Just like Ralston,” Francesca pointed out. “Words like silver spoon and trust fund…”
“Bachelor,” Ava added. “Don’t forget that one.”
“Right,” Francesca said with a hard nod. “Like bachelor. Those words don’t define him. They just describe where he is in his life at this moment.”
“We could say that about you too,” Ava told Analise gently. “Just
because you’re a former marine doesn’t mean you’re a lesbian. It doesn’t mean that you were too ugly to get a man. It doesn’t make you less of a lady.”
“Lady is not what some people think,” Francesca chimed in.
Analise could not imagine what these two women were driving at. They were both leaning toward Analise with eager expressions on their faces. There was almost a sense of expectancy in their manner. What did they think was going to happen? Did they truly believe that Ralston would somehow fall in love with her or something?
“There’s nothing like that between Ralston and me,” Analise assured them. “So, I don’t want you thinking that we’re going to wind up together.” Why did that sound so awful? The not winding up together was sort of like someone had told her that she’d failed at something very important.
“Not yet,” Ava agreed with a nod. She pointed to Francesca. “You see what I mean though, right?”
“Oh yes,” Francesca said in a very serious tone of voice.
“See what?” Analise demanded. “What are you talking about?”
Francesca laughed. “Ava told me about you when you first got here.”
“Got here,” Analise murmured. “You mean Boston?”
“Yes!” Francesca said eagerly. “Ava told me that she thought you were the perfect match for Ralston!”
Chapter Nine
“The perfect match for Ralston,” Analise muttered. “Perfect match? Really? As if I need another high-maintenance diva to look after. My freaking coworkers are plenty, thank you.”
She was stomping her way across Ava’s lawn toward the surveillance truck they had parked across the street. The nondescript delivery truck looked a little out of place in Ava’s South End neighborhood. It sat like a lump on the curb amidst all of the old Victoria era houses.
Analise yanked open the back door of the truck and climbed inside. Wrath was seated behind one of the terminals, scrolling through some old footage in search of God only knew what. Nash was in the opposite corner of the small space, looking through the photographs they had taken of Sokolov’s known associates. There was a board on the wall in front of Nash where they had pinned the men that they knew with little written blurbs of information about their standing in the Bratva. It was a disturbingly small amount for having been on this job for nearly three weeks.
“What took you so long?” Nash said without looking away from his task.
Analise bristled. Took her so long? Really? As if she had a choice. “Ava was driving. It wasn’t like I could just leave her there.”
Wrath finally turned around and gave her a passing glance before getting back to his video footage. “Did you get any information?”
“Nothing useful,” she grunted. “Why are we still doing this anyway?”
Now both men turned to stare. Nash’s brows drew together. “It’s our job.”
“Actually, it’s not,” Analise pointed out. “We were hired by Stedman Hyde-Pierson to protect him and his family, and to neutralize the Bratva threat to his life. Okay, fine.” Analise paused to get a breath. “The dude fired us! Why are we still here?”
Wrath snorted. “Because Carson and I aren’t leaving Kayla and Tegan unprotected while we still have no idea who is trying to kill them.” He made it sound like a no-brainer. She practically expected him to throw a duh in there.
Nash cleared his throat and gave Wrath a dirty look. “Ava hired us to finish this.”
Analise had briefly forgotten that fact. Ava again. Ugh! The woman was the biggest busybody on the planet. Although, to be fair, these were her family members that were in danger. And there was probably a part of her that was very relieved to be getting to the bottom of her ex-husband’s deceit. Stedman was like the world’s biggest liar.
“Whatever,” Analise finally muttered. It was a bullshit word and she knew it. There was just nothing else to say. “I’m getting some air.”
“Whoa!” Wrath suddenly reached out and gestured to one of the televisions next to his computer monitor. “Check this out!”
Nash got up and peered at the television screen. “Isn’t that Ralston’s bank? Boston Bank & Trust?”
Analise felt her heart sink as the flashing headline announced that the bank president had been murdered. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she muttered. “I leave him alone for two hours. Two hours!”
“Get your ass down there, and take Wrath with you,” Nash ordered. “I want to know what happened. And I want details. Now!”
Analise balked. “I don’t want to take Wrath!”
“It’s not up for discussion.” Nash actually moved his leg as though he were going to put a boot in her ass. “I don’t know what your problem is lately, but it needs to stop. Now.”
Surprise hit Analise so hard she physically rocked back on her heels. Her? She was the problem? Or she had a problem? What. The. Hell? She wasn’t the one with the problem. Without thinking, she pointed to Wrath. “He starts screwing the client’s daughter, and Carson starts screwing his niece! And you think I’m the problem?” Analise wasn’t finished. “And don’t even get me started on the creepy stuff going on between you and Ava, because we all know there’s something weird happening there!”
“Enough!”
Nash’s drill sergeant voice ripped right through Analise’s indignation and took her right all the way back to boot camp. She shut her mouth and straightened her spine so hard that it crackled.
“Now that you’ve stopped having a tantrum,” Nash said sarcastically, “you can go do what I told you to because you work for me and that’s your job.”
Analise turned without a word and left the surveillance truck. She did not look behind her to see if Wrath was following or not. She didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was getting out of there as quickly as possible. She wanted as far away from the embarrassing feelings as she could possibly get.
“Analise!” Wrath called after her. “I’ll drive.”
“No.” She was stomping toward the SUV she’d parked around the corner. “We can go separate.”
Wrath opened the driver’s door of his company-assigned, nondescript dark blue sedan. “Get in the car, Analise. Stop pouting for once and just do something the easy way.”
His words stung just a little bit more. What was it with people making her feeling either uncomfortable or shitty today? By the time night rolled around, she would need therapy, or maybe a forty-eight-hour psych lockdown would be more appropriate.
Tired of arguing, Analise changed direction and got into the passenger side of Wrath’s car. She put on her seatbelt and gave him a dirty look. “Could you please at least drive like a regular person? If I’m going to be sitting in here, I don’t want to add the risk of dying in a hunk of twisted metal just because you wrecked another car.”
“You know,” Wrath said as he started the engine. “Being nice to the man who holds your fate in his hands is usually a good idea.”
“The better idea is never letting a man anywhere near your fate,” she retorted. Oh yeah, she was so tired of all this crap!
*
“No. I didn’t see a shooter,” Ralston said for what felt like the millionth time. “Like I told you before, Detective, Mr. Croft and I were talking. He was standing exactly where he is”—Ralston looked in distaste at the huge bloodstain on the expensive Persian rug—“or rather where he was lying. The window shattered, and the next thing I knew, Mr. Croft was clutching his chest and falling down. I saw the blood, realized what happened, and got down just in case the shooter decided to take another shot.”
“Shooter?” The detective leaned in closer and pointed at Ralston with his pen. “Are you sure you aren’t the shooter? This story about some sniper on a building across the street is rather farfetched, don’t you think?”
A second detective joined the first. Ralston had heard someone call him Biggs. “Ms. Laurence—the secretary—said that you were in a real hurry to see Mr. Croft.”
Ralston had to tread carefully he
re. It was one thing to speculate with Mr. Croft that Stedman Hyde-Pierson was making death threats. It was another thing entirely to repeat those hypotheses to law enforcement officials. Ralston didn’t know if he was ready to go there yet.
“I told you,” Ralston said calmly. “I did need to see Mr. Croft rather urgently, but I wasn’t angry with him at all. It was about a business matter. We were discussing it in a perfectly civil manner before Croft was murdered.”
“Dara said there was yelling in there,” the first detective said bluntly.
“Croft was very irritated with my father,” Ralston admitted. “He was certainly yelling, but it wasn’t aimed at me, and there was no maliciousness in it.”
“Angry with your father?” The first scribbled something onto his notepad. “And who is your father?”
Ralston stared at the detective for just a moment. He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t used to people not automatically knowing who his father was. Biggs gave an exaggerated cough. “Michaelson, this is Ralston Hyde-Pierson.”
“Hyde-Pierson,” Michaelson sounded it out as he wrote it down on his pad of paper. It was almost comical to see the recognition hit. “Oh, come on!” Michaelson snorted. “You want us to believe that Stedman Hyde-Pierson might have had a quarrel with the manager of a bank, where he is a board member by the way, that resulted in a death?”
“You realize I’m a board member of this bank as well, correct?” Ralston asked irritably. “Not only that but I head up the IT department and Internet security divisions.”
“So you had a reason to dislike Mr. Croft, then,” Michaelson prodded.
Ralston was so done with this crap. “Are you charging me?”
“No.” Biggs looked surprised. “We don’t have any evidence.”
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