Nash Security Solutions

by Lola Silverman

  “Mom, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Ralston began slowly. “I’m right in the middle of something with Dad, and I don’t want him questioning my loyalty this early in the game.”

  Ava spun around and put her finger right in the center of his chest. “Yes. I’m well aware of what you have going with your father. Do you have any idea what your little performance with Chelsea at your father’s office did to poor Analise? The woman claims she’s had it. She just quit her job!” Ava threw up her hands and moaned something unintelligible before spinning a little circle and coming right back to Ralston for another bout of verbal abuse. “What are you thinking doing something like this without at least giving her a heads-up? Did I really raise such an unfeeling moron?”

  Ralston could barely process the amount of information she was throwing at him. He raised his hands and shook his head. “Wait a second. Just hold on, please? I know that Analise was shocked. I could see that much on her face. But surely she knows that I’m just pretending. Right?”

  “Why would she know that, Ralston?” Ava demanded irritably. “You’ve botched this whole thing. You realize that, right?” Now Ava started walking dizzying circles around the foyer of his home while muttering to herself and making wild gestures with her hands. “All of the work I’ve done to keep them here because I think this is good for our family. The opportunity to purge is perfect! But then Tegan and Kayla have found love, and Analise is perfect for you. You’re just too stupid! Too damn stupid and self-centered to see what’s right in front of your face. You would think that I had raised a completely self-absorbed moron! It’s embarrassing!”

  Ralston absorbed all of that slowly. “So, you’re saying that Analise doesn’t believe at all that I was only acting.”

  “No, dumbass!” Ava stopped her wandering—what was it with the human race’s propensity to pace when they were upset anyway. She turned and glared at Ralston with such heat that he physically fell back a step. “You apologized to Chelsea for Analise’s behavior. You shamed her in front of someone who could be called a hated rival! How could you ever think that she would just assume you were playing some role? No woman could look past that unless they had a heads-up beforehand.”

  Ralston cleared his throat. This was bad. “I’ll admit I didn’t expect that,” he managed to say.

  “Men are such idiots!” Ava looked so pissed off he wasn’t actually sure that he’d seen her this mad before in his life. “This is your chance to live a real life, Ralston. This woman is amazing. She is smart and tenacious, and you have no idea of what she’s gone through because she doesn’t fit the traditional feminine gender mold. I think that makes her even more incredible for you.”

  “So you’ve just picked her out for me in the same way you’ve been matchmaking your way through all of Nash’s employees?” Ralston was getting a little irritated on his own behalf. “Don’t you think we should all have a say in that decision?”

  Ava gave him a droll stare. “You don’t think you have?”

  He had nothing to say to that.

  “Tegan could not keep her hands off Wrath before I even met the man. Kayla and Carson are a match made in heaven, and nothing could have stopped them from that impromptu courthouse wedding the other day. And you?” Ava wagged her finger at Ralston. “You wanted Analise in your bed the first time you saw her. Now you can’t get enough, and don’t you dare try to convince me otherwise. You love that girl. So you’d better get your head out of your ass and fix it!”

  Ralston sighed. Just when it seemed that life could not get more complicated, mothers made it happen.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The front door slammed shut, and the alarm beeped as it automatically reset itself. Ralston paid no attention to that. He sank down on the steps and rested his elbows on his knees. If what his mother had told him was correct—and he had no reason to believe that it wasn’t—then he had screwed up in an irrevocable fashion with Analise.

  There was no way to describe how that felt. Ralston had a very strange sensation of emptiness and could not even begin to see a way around it. Analise had filled his life with something indescribable. She was sassy and irreverent. She had made it no secret that she cared about his wellbeing and wasn’t shy about telling him when she thought he was being stupid. She was a generous lover, and even though she was prickly as hell sometimes, he liked the way she challenged him. Nobody did that. Not in his normal life. He was Ralston Hyde-Pierson. The only people who ever locked horns with him were people like Chelsea Ettinger who wanted something from him.

  There was another knock at the door. No. Scratch that. Someone was banging on the door with a good amount of force. His heart lifted for the span of two seconds, and then the individual spoke.

  “Let me in, Ralston!” Chelsea demanded imperiously. “You and I need to talk. Now.”

  He had screwed up so badly with Analise. Was there really any reason not to see this through with Chelsea and his father? The only thing he had now was his plan to worm his way into his father’s operation and find out exactly how it worked and how to bring him down. Chelsea was an unfortunate part of that process.

  With a sigh, Ralston got to his feet and went through the motions of opening the front door. He paused before pulling it open and forced a welcoming smile on his face. “Chelsea? What a surprise. Please, come in.”

  Not that he’d needed that last bit. Chelsea came charging through the door as though she were a woman on a mission. “Your mother is such a bitch!” Chelsea fumed. She turned and shook her finger barely two inches away from Ralston’s nose. “Once we’re married, I’m putting that social pariah in her place once and for all. Do you understand me?”

  Ralston sighed. “I’m sorry.” He gestured for Chelsea to go upstairs ahead of him. “I’m afraid I’m a little at a loss as to how you had a run-in with my mother. Why don’t you tell me all about it?” There. That should help mollify her just a bit, right?

  Chelsea moved rapidly into the living room and flounced over to the couch. She burrowed into the leather and then kicked off her stiletto heels and put her feet up on the cushions. Her toenails were painted bright orange. Ralston had the odd thought that her toes looked like little traffic cones.

  He shook his head and took a seat beside her. “Tell me all about it.”

  “I was walking up to your building,” Chelsea began dramatically. “Because a woman should be able to come and see her boyfriend, you know?”

  He nodded because he had a feeling that she would castrate him if he did not.

  “Out of nowhere, Ava stomps up to me and tells me that I’m the worst thing that has ever happened to her son and that I should take myself off somewhere and find a cliff to jump off of! Can you imagine?”

  Actually, Ralston could imagine. Ava could get extremely pissed off—not unlike Chelsea and every other female he’d ever come into contact with. Not only that, but when Ava was pissed, she tended to want to be verbal and upfront about it.

  “I mean,” Chelsea continued. “What was she doing here? Does she just hang out in front of your building and yell at random strangers?”

  “You’re not a random stranger,” Ralston said automatically. “And she was just here speaking with me. So that’s the only reason there was any opportunity for the two of you to come into contact. It was all a fluke. I’m sorry it upset you.”

  “Of course it upset me!” Chelsea stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. “We’re going to be married and your mother hates me. How dare she?”

  “It doesn’t matter what my mother thinks,” Ralston soothed. “You’re my father’s first choice for me.” There. That should smooth over the ruffled feathers.

  “What?” Chelsea cranked her neck around so hard that Ralston was sure he heard her spine crack. “So you’re only dating me because your father told you to?”

  Did the woman honestly believe otherwise? Ralston actually had nothing to say on this topic. Not three days ago—to say nothing of the previous year—he ha
d been very firm with Chelsea that they were not an item. Now he had miraculously changed his mind, and she thought it was her feminine charms that had made that happen? Insane. That was the only answer. She was completely insane.

  “It’s not like that,” Ralston finally managed to say. “It’s complicated. Relationships always are. Don’t try to simplify things.”

  A brief look of confusion crossed her face. Good. That would certainly help. Then before he could see it coming, Chelsea flung her arms around his neck and smashed her lips up against his.

  Ralston froze. Chelsea was moving her mouth so enthusiastically against his that it was almost impossible not to react a little. He closed his eyes and tried to figure out what to do. Her tongue pressed up against the seam of his mouth. Without thinking, he opened his mouth to protest, to break away from the kiss, but she used that as an unfortunate opportunity to shove her tongue into his mouth for one wet and enthusiastic make out session. Apparently, Ralston had no choice but to consummate this most unholy union of temporary convenience in one way or another lest he risk giving away his ruse completely.

  *

  Analise scouted the building with binoculars. The darkness was absolute. No moon. No stars. Nothing but the dim orange glow of the street lights and carriage lamps to offer any sort of light to the exterior of Sokolov’s house. The spring night was pleasantly cool, and the cloud cover created a sense of gloom that was strangely appropriate. There was a fog rolling in from the direction of the harbor. Soon it would cover the entire region with the thick stuff.

  It was perfect weather for snooping. And despite the fact that Analise had sort of quit her job and now had zero reason to be scouting Sokolov’s Cambridge mansion for a way inside, she was tired of wondering what was really going on. She wanted answers. If nobody was willing to give them to her or help her find them, she would just take care of it on her own.

  She adjusted the zoom on the binoculars and focused on a possible second-story entry point. There was a balcony up there. In fact, there were several. A few of them seemed to be manned by bored-looking guards. They appeared to be fairly young mafia members. Analise figured them to be the ones attempting to earn their way up the ranks to the Vor v Zakone status that would mean they were made men within the Bratva. Not only were the Russians far more suspicious and cagey than the other mob organizations, their ranks were far more tight-knit.

  Analise had been here with Nash and the others when they’d come a week or so ago to rescue Ralston, Tegan, and their cousin Kayla. The Sokolov’s second-in-command—Anton—had taken the Hyde-Piersons so that he could protect them from their own father. At least that had been Anton’s excuse. Analise had never believed that bullshit story. There was far more to it, and she intended to find out what.

  With that in mind, she shimmied up a tree that gave her access to the backyard. The eight-foot wall that surrounded the perimeter of the estate was scalable by two people, but not by Analise alone. Without someone to give her a boost and receive one in turn, she would have been unable to get over. That meant she was going to have to find another way out.

  Landing in the soft grass, she waited a moment to make sure the way was clear before jogging lightly to the side of the house. She nimbly climbed a newel post to the second floor of the house. For a moment, she perched on the roof and wondered if she was right about the placement of the guards. She paused long enough to count the men just one more time and to be sure of where their patrol areas were.

  Once she was sure the coast was clear, Analise jumped onto the balcony with the French doors that were slightly ajar. There was no telling why someone had left the doors open. In Analise’s experience, it was usually someone wanting a way to sneak out for a smoke break.

  She gently slipped into the upstairs hallway and listened. There were male voices downstairs along with the sounds of a television. Further along the hallway she could hear the light cadence of someone’s boots on the hardwood floors. She had seen this guard through her binoculars. His route would take him down the long hallway and around in a circular pattern that lasted around ten minutes. That meant she had another eight before he would hit this point again.

  Just then she heard a louder voice downstairs, and in English. “Hey! Did you take the boss his dinner tray?”

  “No,” someone else answered. “Before Anton left, he told us to leave the boss alone. He’s in his study doing the books.”

  Alone in his study. Analise considered that an invitation she could not resist. She stayed low and bent over as she whisked her way through the open hallway. The atrium-style open area to her right was in the shape of a small rectangle. The stairs rose from the lower levels in a perfect circular format that suggested old architecture.

  Analise sped along as silently as she could. The guard was coming up behind her. There would be no time to hover in front of the doors to see what was behind each one. She had no choice but to dive in.

  With that in mind, she pulled open the first closed door, ducked inside, and closed the door behind her with a soft click. Turning around, she found herself in a bedroom suite. The opulence of the room suggested the master’s suite.

  There were oil paintings hanging on the walls. The dark furniture was antique and looked expensive. The bed was neatly made, and the colognes on the dresser were arranged as though the person was totally OCD. It was too dark inside to see much more than that, and she dared not risk turning on a light. An additional door led into a bathroom.

  Analise clicked on the light inside the bathroom and was surprised to see that the place was immaculate. There wasn’t even a towel hanging on the rack. It struck her as odd. What kind of man—any sort of man—didn’t have a towel or even a hand towel hanging in his bathroom?

  She checked the hamper. It was completely empty. Heading back into the bedroom, she opened the dresser drawers and found the clothing neatly folded, but looking as though it hadn’t moved in ages. It was all very odd.

  She looked at her watch. There were a few more minutes before the guard came back around again. Slipping out of the bedroom suite, Analise zipped past several more bedrooms. They were all equally deserted. Finally, she reached a second closed door. This one was locked.

  Feeling urgency over caution, Analise pulled out her lock picks and jimmied the door open. This had to be the study. The master should have been inside, hard at work on the books. She should have come face to face with the man himself. But when she stepped inside the study, it was deserted. Not only that, but there were no books of any kind. The room held a few antique items. There were a dozen or more first editions of things like Dante’s Divine Comedy and the collected works of Shakespeare. There was also what appeared to be a very comprehensive collection of samovars, but the desk sitting center stage in the room did not look as though it had been disturbed in a very long time. Analise put her hand on the mahogany top and slid her fingers through a thick coating of dust.

  What. The. Hell?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Analise stood in the shadows across the street from Ralston’s building. She didn’t know where else to go. The way she had left things with Nash sort of precluded her going there to share a find that he may or may not take seriously anyway. There were so many possible explanations for the empty office and the plethora of guards who had been tasked with guarding nothing. Analise’s instincts told her that a run-of-the-mill explanation wasn’t going to satisfy her. There was something more going on, and she needed to know what it was.

  So, she waited in the deep shadows to try and decide how she should approach the building. Should she just enter? She had the codes and a key. Something held her back though, and she couldn’t be sure of what it was.

  Just then the front door opened. Ralston appeared. Seconds later, Chelsea Ettinger appeared beside him. Analise froze. She felt the meager contents of her belly curdle as she watched Chelsea stare up at Ralston with obvious adoration. The body language was unmistakable. His was more muted than hers, but there w
as a subtle inclination of him toward her as though if they weren’t standing in a doorway, he would pull her into his arms.

  Then Chelsea turned and flung her arms around his neck. The couple kissed passionately, and Analise felt something inside her shrivel up and die. She hadn’t carried much hope that there was a future for her and Ralston. Somehow, Ava’s encouragement and support had managed to squeeze past her defenses though. It was silly to believe such things, and yet here she stood, completely shocked to see Ralston and Chelsea embracing like lovers.

  Perhaps they already are.

  It was late—after midnight. The traffic on the streets had dwindled to nearly nothing, and there was almost no foot traffic about. Chelsea lingered a moment longer in Ralston’s doorway. A cab pulled up to the curb. Chelsea held his hand for as long as possible, only dropping it when she moved toward the cab. Moments later she was gone.

  RALSTON WATCHED THE tail lights of the cab disappear with no small feeling of relief. He had thought that Chelsea would insist on spending the night. He felt enough self-loathing without adding that sin to his list of transgressions.

  Just before he turned to walk back inside his building, he saw something materialize from the shadows across the street. The blood froze in his veins when he realized that it was Analise.

  She walked across the street with an almost deliberate casualness that seemed completely at odds with what he saw on her face as she drew closer. Ralston opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Analise asked as she sailed by him and through the door. “Or should I ask if the bitch has your tongue? She seemed to have your balls in a bag, so why not your tongue too?”

  Her words stung like hell, but Ralston could not say anything to refute them. He simply shut the doors, armed the system, and headed upstairs. When he arrived in his living room, Analise was busy stuffing her things into her rucksack.