Once up top, he hurried to the point where he had estimated the shots came from. There was a little pile of menthol cigarette butts. The tall man had been here. At least now Wrath knew whom he was chasing.
Wrath looked around and tried to gauge the best escape route for a man like that to use. That was when he caught just a glimpse of a figure two rooftops away. The man was moving at a slow but steady pace. Without a second thought, Wrath gave chase.
He pounded across the brownstone. Keeping low and trying to be as quiet as possible, Wrath dodged air conditioning units and rooftop terraces as he ran. At the edge of the first building, he took a flying leap onto the second one. Wrath was only one building behind the tall man when he was spotted.
Wrath was gaining. Even though the tall man kicked it into high gear, he ran like a giraffe. It was all ungainly moves of the arms and legs while his rifle case banged against his hip and lower back. Wrath leaped onto the last building in the row. His boots skidded just a bit on the gravel.
Only ten yards ahead the tall man was descending a fire escape ladder. Wrath could hear his boots pounding their way down. Without even thinking twice, Wrath bounded over the edge of the building. He caught the first window with his fingers and the toes of his boots. The brick and mortar ground painfully beneath his nails. He didn’t care. He dropped one story lower. Then another. Landing hard on the pavement, Wrath watched the tall man jump to the ground and bound away across a small park. He seemed to be heading somewhere specific. To a vehicle perhaps?
Wrath instantly gave chase. He ran until his lungs were screaming with want of air. Joggers, cyclists, and other park-goers stared at them both in open-mouthed shock. The tall man didn’t move well, but his stride was huge.
They burst through a game of Ultimate Frisbee. The players shouted obscenities, and Wrath was sure he caught a Frisbee to the back of the head. Finally, they came to a little drainage pond of sorts. Wrath gathered everything he had left and flung himself at the tall man.
They both went down in a tangle of arms and legs. Wrath caught an elbow to the mouth. The coppery taste of blood exploded against his tongue. He reached for the rifle case and wrenched it hard. The strap cut into the other man’s shoulder. Wrath used the advantage to pin the tall man beneath him.
“Who are you working for?” Wrath snarled. “Who was your target? Tell me!”
The tall man bridged up underneath Wrath, trying to buck him off or loosen his hold. “Fuck off.”
Wrath held firm. He shifted his weight and put his knee in the man’s groin. There was a loud exhale and a sharp gasp as he felt the man’s nuts getting squashed. Wrath ground his knee into the vulnerable spot. It was a low thing for one man to do to another, but this bastard had been shooting at Tegan and at Wrath.
“Okay!” The tall man was squirming like mad. “Just stop! Stop. Ouch! Son of a bitch! It’s Sokolov! Sokolov hired me to take out the mother and the daughter. He wanted it separate, but you assholes have gotten in my way!”
Wrath’s focus shifted for just one second, but it was enough. The man did an ungainly back roll and somersaulted away from Wrath. His rifle case came completely unfastened in the move and stayed behind with Wrath, but the tall man loped away as though the hounds of hell were right on his heels.
Wrath did not give chase this time. There was no point. Sokolov. So, this was nothing they did not already know. What made no sense still was why a man like Sokolov would stoop to murdering a man’s family in order to pressure him into doing business with the Sokolov family. That wasn’t how the mafia worked, especially not the Russian mafia there in Boston. There was something very strange going on.
Getting slowly to his feet, Wrath turned and gazed back toward the line of brownstones. No doubt Nash would be wondering how he fared. He looped the carry strap of the rifle case over his shoulder and pulled out his cell phone. He was just sending off a text to Nash to tell him that he was on his way back when a swarm of Boston’s finest arrived with sirens flashing and guns waving. Wrath managed to get off one more word to Nash before his time was up.
Wrath immediately dropped his phone and put his hands up. Then he realized that he had the weapon responsible for the shots fired looped over his shoulder. Shit. This was going to be a long day.
“Get down on the ground!” a cop shouted. “Down on the ground! Put the weapon down and lay down!”
“Hey!” Wrath moved very slowly as he obeyed. “I’m not the shooter. I’m with a security firm. I’m a bodyguard assigned to protect the Hyde-Pierson family. If you call my boss, he’ll tell you who I am. He’s only a few blocks away.”
Another cop gleefully put his knee in the middle of Wrath’s back and slammed him the rest of the way to the ground. “Shut up! You’re going to jail!” He clicked the radio unit attached to his shoulder. “We’ve got the shooter! I repeat, I’m bringing the shooter in.”
Wrath sighed. Yep. Long-ass day.
*
Tegan was pacing back and forth in front of her mother’s picture window. It felt like hours had passed since the attack. What was Wrath doing? Did he honestly think he could take down the entire mafia network all by himself? She was going to give him such a lecture when he got back!
In the meantime, she was getting a front row seat for this weird flirtation going on between her mother and Mr. Nash. Not that it should have been a surprise. Tegan’s father had always maintained that Ava had pretty much slept with everyone in Boston but him. Apparently, now her mother’s interests included military types with great bodies. Of course, as long as Ava wasn’t lusting after Wrath, maybe Tegan should just be happy and keep quiet.
Wow. Where had that come from? It wasn’t like Ava had ever taken a man from her daughter. She hadn’t even ever seemed particularly interested in any of Tegan’s boyfriends. It was just that she was sick and tired of the guys she knew making comments about her mother being super hot. It made Tegan feel somehow inferior. She certainly didn’t have her mother’s easy manner around men.
“Tegan,” Ava called out from the living room. “Would you like a cup of tea or anything? You seem very unusually stressed.”
“Someone just shot at me, Mother.” Tegan stared through the wide, arched walk-through between the living room and the front parlor where Tegan was doing her pacing. “I think I have a right to be a little shaken up.”
Mr. Nash cleared his throat. He pulled his phone from his pocket. “Wrath just sent me a text saying he’s on his way back and that he’s fine.”
Tegan started to relax. She felt the tension knotting her spine starting to ease. Then Nash cursed low and sudden. Tegan whirled around. “What? What happened?”
“He’s still fine.” Mr. Nash sounded annoyed. “Unfortunately, Boston’s finest have decided to put in an appearance in order to make an arrest in connection with today’s shooting.”
“What?” Tegan could not believe her ears. “So, go tell them to let him go! It’s not like he was the one trying to kill someone!”
“He did discharge his weapon though,” Mr. Nash explained. He pulled out his phone. “I’m having another one of my men come over here to keep an eye on you two. I want you”—he pointed to Tegan—“to stay with your mother until Wrath or I come back to get you. Is that understood?”
Understood? Yes. Appreciated? Hell no! Tegan narrowed her eyes and shot Mr. Nash a grouchy look. “Hurry up and get Wrath out. He shouldn’t be punished for saving my life—again.”
“Agreed.” Mr. Nash passed her mother a very strange look and then disappeared.
Tegan frowned at Ava. “Do you have to fall all over every man you meet?”
“I don’t fall all over anyone,” Ava said indignantly. “Why are you acting like this?”
“Because I saw the way you flirted with Mr. Nash. That’s why. The guy is a security officer hired by Dad. How do you know you can even trust him?” Tegan pointed out.
“I notice you don’t have any trouble trusting Mr. Wrath.” Ava pointed to the other end of the sofa. “S
it. You’re giving me a headache with all of your pacing. It’s a terrible habit. Sit down and try to relax. You’re no good to anyone if you can’t stay calm in a crisis.”
“Oh, is that what you’re doing?” Tegan said sarcastically. “Staying calm by occupying yourself thinking about Mr. Nash naked?”
“Tegan, would you please explain yourself? You’ve been acting very odd for months, but I’m about fed up with your attitude.”
“I—I—Judson Politte proposed to me yesterday in the middle of the quad.” Why had Tegan even brought that up? Surely it wasn’t really bothering her?
Ava snorted. “Oh, my sweet girl, I am so sorry. Lord, what would possess that boy to even think he had a chance?”
Somehow, her mother’s reaction made Tegan feel better. “I didn’t really think about it much when it happened. It was a shock. He’s been bugging me pretty consistently since the start of the semester. We graduate this spring and I thought it was because of that. I just”—Tegan realized that her mother was right—“I know I’ve been acting weird. I tried so hard to get that job at the company, and it’s what I want to do. I just…”
“Your father is an asshole, Tegan,” Ava said quietly. “There is no doubt about it and no harm in saying it out loud. It isn’t like he’s not fully aware.”
“Am I like him?” Tegan was so relieved to get the words out. “I know I’m a little—I don’t know—sheltered maybe. I’ve lived in Brookline almost all my life. Then I moved to Back Bay. I’ve never had to struggle financially. But it isn’t like I don’t respect those that do. I just don’t want to turn out like Dad or like Judson Politte.”
“You’re not going to.” Ava moved closer to Tegan and put her arms around her daughter. “You’re a wonderful girl with a great big heart. You work hard for what you have, even if people don’t always realize that. Hiding your struggles doesn’t make you a snob, sweetie. In fact, if you were to sit around and whine about how hard you have to work for things, I wouldn’t even want to be around you. Nobody would. You would be one of those martyr types.”
“Chryssie MacPherson,” Tegan told her mother.
“Ugh!” Ava laughed as they both remembered the daughter of one of Boston’s old families that had fallen far from their wealthy beginnings. “I would kick your ass if you ever started acting like Chryssie MacPherson.”
“I love you, Mom,” Tegan whispered.
Ava pressed a kiss to Tegan’s cheek. “Love you too.”
Chapter Thirteen
Wrath sat calmly in the big lockup cell and waited. It wasn’t exactly his first time being in such a place. Since he tended to be one of Nash’s more proactive security employees, he tended to put himself on the radar of the local police pretty regularly.
“What are you in for?” A scrawny little tweaker nudged Wrath. “You want some stuff? If you’re in here for long, you’ll want it. I’ve got a contact, you know. I know people.”
Wrath sighed. It didn’t matter what city or town, the population in these places seemed to include the same cross section of people. It got very old after a short time. He stood up and paced to a corner of the cell nearest the door. If he stood here long enough, the outer door would open and let in just a breath of fresh air. The stale quality of the air in the cell reminded him of some of the marketplaces in the Middle East.
A very well-built man in his mid to late thirties stopped his pacing right in front of where Wrath was standing. He turned slowly and offered Wrath a smirk. “Military?”
“Private security.” Wrath knew he still looked like a marine. That was a point of pride, although he could not claim the association anymore.
“You work for Nash.”
Now the guy had Wrath’s full attention. “What do you know about it?”
“I know Sokolov has a contract out on all you security bastards.” The man’s smile disappeared.
Without further warning, the stranger came at Wrath like a rabid animal. He flashed a small knife and tried to bury it in Wrath’s gut. Wrath pivoted, grabbed the man’s arm, and wrenched it up behind his back.
The entire cell had exploded. Men were clawing at the bars, trying to get the attention of the guards as Wrath and the stranger grappled like titans. They banged into the walls, smashed against the bars, shoved random cellmates to the floor, and finally flipped over a bench and onto the floor.
Wrath had a firm grip on the man’s wrist. He was squeezing as hard as he could to make him drop the knife. Using his other hand, Wrath smashed his fist into the man’s face. Once. Twice. The man’s nose poured blood, and still he tried to put that knife into Wrath’s neck.
The thin blade sliced a shallow cut across Wrath’s shoulder. It flayed his T-shirt and hit his skin. It burned like hell, but that was all. The previous shoulder wound was another story. The man kept putting pressure on that side of Wrath’s body. He forced Wrath to utilize his injured shoulder to keep the knife from entering his body. It was like the stranger knew that Wrath was injured there.
The stranger gave up the knife and started pummeling Wrath’s injured shoulder. Wrath groaned in pain but refused to give up. He ground his teeth together and fought back. Grabbing the stranger’s head, he bounced it off the cement floor. The man’s grip lessened. Wrath smashed his head against the floor one more time, and finally, the man went limp.
Wrath rolled onto his back and lay staring at the ceiling. Contracts out on all of Nash’s men? What. The. Hell? Why? They hadn’t done anything but protect a bunch of women—well, that and Hyde-Pierson’s son—but that was not normal operating procedure for any mafia unit Wrath had ever heard of. It made no sense.
“He’s alive! He’s alive!” The tweaker was leaping up and down in the center of the cell, pointing at Wrath.
Wrath turned his head and saw the jailer fumbling with the keys as he tried to open the cell. He was cursing and shouting for backup. Finally, the jailer and his assistants stumbled into the cell. They checked for vitals on the unconscious man who was not—unfortunately, in Wrath’s mind—dead. Then they helped Wrath to his feet and removed both men from the cell.
“Hey!” Wrath pointed to the knife lying unobtrusively on the floor. “One of you might want to get that before it becomes someone else’s problem.”
The jailer seemed flustered. He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket. Using them, he carefully picked up the knife off the floor. Wrath could not help but be glad that he’d had more than the usual amount of vaccinations. There was no telling what was on that knife or in this cell. For all he knew, he could have contracted rabies or distemper from this place. It was probably dirtier and far more disgusting than the local animal shelter.
“Get him to the infirmary!” the jailer shouted to his assistants. Then he looked at the unconscious man hanging between them with his head lolling against his chest. “Get them both to the infirmary. But I want that man cuffed!”
At least it didn’t seem like they were going to blame Wrath for this latest incident.
“Just cuff them both!” the jailer amended. “And put on extra guards. I don’t want them fighting anymore. I don’t care what their gang affiliations are.”
Damn. Wrath had been wrong again. Apparently, this was not getting better anytime soon.
*
Tegan had never actually been inside a police station before. It was a rather new and very strangely informative experience. She watched men get hustled by her little chair with their hands cuffed behind their backs as they were taken to something called “booking,” which she knew from watching TV was where the mug shots and such took place.
“I’m very sorry to drag you into this,” Mr. Nash murmured.
He was standing beside her with his arms crossed and a very forbidding expression on his face.
Tegan lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “I’m glad to help out Wrath in any way that I can.”
“Has he acted inappropriately toward you?” Mr. Nash wanted to know.
He wanted to discuss this
now? Tegan could not help but blush. It was embarrassing in the extreme to discuss her hypothetical sex life with a stranger. Doing it in a police station was untenable. “No,” she managed to say. “He did not act at all inappropriately. He has been extremely polite and respectful. At all times.” She wondered if that would be sufficient for Mr. Nash. Was he trying to figure out if Wrath had forced himself on her or something?
“It’s extremely inappropriate for a man like Wrath—in the position he’s in right now—as your bodyguard, to have a physical relationship with you. There’s a power differential right there that can be problematic.”
Tegan sighed. This was getting even more awkward. “I’m a grown woman who is perfectly capable of making my own decisions, thank you. Please don’t sanction him—or whatever it is you do—on my account.”
“I think at this point he’s been punished enough,” Mr. Nash said wryly. “Ah. Here’s the sergeant. Good.”
A big-bellied cop came lumbering down the hallway. He gestured to Mr. Nash, who, in turn, ushered Tegan down the hallway after the sergeant. They entered a small room with a metal table and four chairs.
The sergeant heaved himself into a chair on one side of the table. Tegan and Mr. Nash occupied the other side. It was exactly like a movie or television crime show. Tegan wondered if they would bring in another cop to do the whole good cop, bad cop routine.
“So,” the sergeant began in his Boston drawl. “You say this lady here can corroborate your boy’s story about the shooter?”
“Yes.” Mr. Nash gestured to Teagan. “This is Ms. Tegan Hyde-Pierson. I’m sure I don’t have to explain to you who she is. This is Boston, correct?”
The reaction was almost instant. The sergeant stopped lounging and sat up straighter. “Sorry there, Ms. Hyde-Pierson. I didn’t recognize you, but of course I know who your father is.”
“Thank you.” Tegan tried to be nice. She wanted to reach over and slap the man and demand he release Wrath. “Mr. Wrath is my personal bodyguard, appointed by Mr. Nash to oversee my safety. Earlier today, Mr. Wrath thwarted an attempt on my life made by a man who was on top of a building across the street from my mother’s home. Mr. Wrath gave chase to see if he could catch the man and bring him to justice.” Tegan was basically reciting the speech Mr. Nash had given her. She tried to remember it to the letter. “We received word that Mr. Wrath had caught the attacker, had gotten some minor information from him, but that the man had escaped, leaving his weapon behind. Your officers found Mr. Wrath just as he was on his way back to report to Mr. Nash and turn in the weapon that had done the shooting in the first place. Our intention was to turn it over to the authorities in order to see if they could use it to ascertain the full identity of the man responsible.” Whew, what a mouthful! Tegan felt almost lightheaded. She apparently needed to breathe more frequently when she was giving a speech, although public speaking had never really been her thing anyway.
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