Ava stood up. She needed to keep moving. “Are you hungry?” she asked Francesca.
Francesca rolled her eyes. “There you go again. I’ve known plenty of stress-eaters before, but you are the first person I’ve ever known who cooks to relieve stress. And you never eat any of it!” Francesca moaned. “You just make yummy stuff that the rest of us can’t resist.”
“I feel like making a cream pie,” Ava muttered.
She began pulling ingredients out of her cupboards. Then she headed for her enormous gourmet refrigerator. The monstrosity was covered in wood panels to help it blend in nicely with her light-oak kitchen cabinets. The house had belonged to her parents, but Ava had redone the kitchen several times over the years. It was the most important room in her home, and she took that seriously.
Eggs, milk, and that good imported vanilla. She cracked her eyes into the bowl and reached automatically for her favorite bamboo-handled spatula. As soon as she started to stir, her heart rate slowed down and her mind began to clear. Cooking was cathartic as well as fun. When people told Ava that they didn’t like to cook, she could hardly imagine what that would be like. She had started cooking with her mother when Ava was only four years old, and she had been experimenting with food ever since.
“Oh, shit.” Wrath came strutting into the kitchen. He cast a dark look at Francesca. “Is she making one of those Boston cream pies with the homemade chocolate icing?”
“Yup.” Francesca settled on a barstool in front of the island. She put her elbows on the counter and rested her chin in her hand. “You know how she gets with the stress.”
“Yum,” Wrath moaned. “She’s going to make me fat. I swear. I need to start working out. I wish Analise were still with us. She makes a way better sparring partner than Carson.”
“Where’s Tegan?” Ava asked distractedly. She loved her daughter, but she couldn’t say she was particularly disappointed to see Wrath without Tegan tagging along.
“Tegan is working on her final paper for school and finishing up this last payroll documentation—or something.” Wrath frowned. “She is so good at all that stuff, and I’m a virtual moron when it comes to math.”
“Unless we’re talking velocity of a bullet or something,” Ava agreed. “I think you’re one of those people who doesn’t learn something unless properly motivated.”
Wrath had taken a breath to speak but never got the chance, thanks to Jason Nash putting in an entrance. The man entered the kitchen as though he not only owned the place but was king of the castle as well. Nobody could dominate a room just by walking into it the way Nash could. Ava decided that she would not be affected by him. She was so done with this crap.
“Wrath tells me that you went snooping around at Stedman’s estate tonight.” Nash put his hands flat on the countertop and glared across the island at Ava.
She didn’t respond. There was no point in reinforcing his bad behavior by answering him when he acted like a total troll. She focused on her batter instead. These pies were very simple to make, but if the cream wasn’t just right, it would throw off the entire thing.
“Hey!” Nash growled. “I’m talking to you, and I expect a response.”
“Correction,” she said snidely. “You are talking at me, and you can expect nothing if you take that tone and disrespect me that way! You’re being rude, and I’m not going to respond if you’re rude.”
“Fine.” Oh, he was mad! She could hear him grinding his teeth as he stood there and stared at her. “Then, would you pretty please with sugar on top tell me about your little adventure tour to Stedman Hyde-Pierson’s Brookline estate?”
“He was there,” she acknowledged. But because he was being such a jerk, she really didn’t want to offer him anything else.
“And?” Nash prodded.
Ava shrugged. “He was burying a dead body in a great big hole right beside the pergola.”
NASH COULD NOT believe that Ava just whipped that little fact out as though she were discussing the weather. Francesca gasped as though she had just heard something scandalous. Even Wrath looked as though Ava had completely commanded his interest. Dammit, but the woman really knew how to command a room!
“Could you please tell me exactly what you saw?” Nash forced himself to say it politely. “If you wouldn’t mind?”
Ava gave a halfhearted shrug of her shoulder. “Whatever. You didn’t seem interested the other night when Francesca and I told you that we had heard him kill that poor Anton.”
Wrath snorted. “Poor Anton was the Sokolov crime family’s second-in-command. I hardly consider him an innocent bystander.”
“Fair enough,” Ava allowed. She motioned to Wrath. “So, Anton wasn’t poor. He was still murdered. Stedman said something about inviting the man to the house under false pretenses. Then he killed him. Francesca and I heard it happen.” She waved her spatula in Nash’s direction. “You told us that we didn’t have any evidence or a body, so the cops wouldn’t consider it a crime. Well, I went back to find the body.”
Nash tried not to explode. It wouldn’t do any good. That much was true. Ava did what Ava wanted to do whether it was wise or not. She did not follow other people’s plans and rarely consulted with anyone when she thought something needed to be done. She just did it and asked for forgiveness later, if she did at all.
Ava paused for a moment. “I’ll admit that my plan might seem foolish in retrospect. I sneaked onto property owned by a man that Francesca and I saw murder someone else only a few days ago. You know,” Ava said thoughtfully. “There are days when I am really surprised that I managed to divorce that man without getting a bullet in my brain for the trouble.”
Nash sighed. He really didn’t want to think about that. Chances are she was worse than right. “And you literally saw him put Anton’s body in a hole?” Nash tried to be reasonable. He could do that. Right? It wasn’t one of his more natural personality traits, but it was possible.
“Yes.” Ava gave a little shiver. It was the only outward indicator that she was rattled. In every other way that mattered, she looked utterly put together. “He was kicking this big lump on the ground. Again and again he just lit into it as though he were really angry about whatever it was. Finally, he scooted it toward the hole. Just before this giant”—she seemed at a loss for what to call it—“package, I guess. It fell into the hole, and the bag split open as it did. I distinctly saw a human body. I’m sure of it.”
Francesca made a gagging noise and put her hands over her mouth. “Ew! Can you imagine what he’s been doing with that thing for days now? That happened two days ago, Ava. Two! If that body was in the house the entire time, I bet it was ripe.”
“Yeah, but Stedman was really busy with your court hearing,” Ava pointed out to Francesca. “Maybe he just ignored it. I know I couldn’t have. I believe I could even smell it from across the yard.”
Wrath made a strange sound. “You know, he’s probably going to get complaints from neighbors if he actually buried a ripe body in his yard.”
“I just can’t imagine how he thinks nobody will notice a huge hole by the pergola,” Ava mused.
Nash tried to keep his mind together. It wasn’t easy. He was distracted by the idea that Ava could have been hurt if Stedman had caught her snooping. The guy wasn’t exactly known for his forgiving nature.
“So,” Ava prompted. “Can we call the cops now?”
“No,” Wrath’s tone was flat. “You were trespassing. However, we could call in an anonymous tip about the smell.”
Ava’s expression turned animated. “Ooo! Good one, Wrath! You should do it right now.”
At least Wrath looked to Nash to make sure he concurred with Ava’s strategy. Nash finally gave a subtle nod. Unfortunately, he did happen to think it was a good idea. Calling in a complaint about a bad smell somewhere on the grounds was likely to end with the cops at least going out there to take a look, especially since Nash and his men had already established a history of sorts with Boston PD.
/> Wrath left the room, with Francesca hot on his tail. She was calling out suggestions while he looked up the number on his smartphone. This left Nash alone with Ava in the kitchen. Not that she was looking at him. She was too busy with the damn cream pie. The woman was a world-class avoider when it came to talking about things that she knew she wasn’t going to like or vice versa.
“Ava,” Nash began slowly. “I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel as though I don’t believe you. That wasn’t my intention. I do believe that you and Francesca heard Stedman Hyde-Pierson murder a man inside his home.”
“Gee, thanks,” Ava said sarcastically. “It’s so nice of you to acknowledge this now of all times. You know, after I’ve seen the body firsthand.”
“First of all.” Nash managed to hang onto his temper by a thread. “I really think the two of you need to stop snooping. It never ends well. Plus, it’s difficult to say where you got your information when you only seem to get it while you’re trespassing.”
“Details,” she said airily. “I think you’re just pissed off that I’ve gotten more information on Stedman than you have.”
Nash sighed. “Ava, I wish you would stop thinking that I’m out to get you or discredit you or compete with you. It isn’t true. All right?”
She did not look up from the layer cake pans she was filling with batter. “Easy to say now. I’m just tired of feeling like I have to live up to some standard with you.”
Nash was shocked. “What? It’s not like that, and it never has been.”
“It’s always been!” Ava argued.
She bristled and finally stepped away from her precious cook space. She got right up close until he could smell the wonderful fresh cookie scent of her. The woman always smelled like homemade goodies. It was damned distracting. So distracting that he forgot what he was saying and just leaned down and kissed her silent.
Chapter Three
Ava’s mind was spinning like a top. She should have pushed Nash away. Bite his lip. Knee him in the groin. Something! But she couldn’t do it. Her brain was frozen. It was completely stuck on the fact that he smelled so good and tasted even better. She flung her arms around his neck and brushed her fingers against the short hair that barely touched the back of his neck.
The strength of this man was amazing. His broad shoulders were covered in hard muscle. As his hands slid down her back toward her ass, she could feel all of that muscle uncoiling beneath the skin of her arms. The sensation made her think of what it was like to be naked with this man.
He moved his lips against hers. His tongue skated across the seam of her mouth. She opened for him and gave a little gasp of delight when he pushed his tongue in to mate with hers. They grappled like animals. The kiss grew carnal. It consumed Ava until she could think of nothing but the feel and taste of him.
Nash cupped her backside in his hands and drew her hard against his body. His erection was a thick ridge between them. She shivered as everything below her waist began to melt. Her pussy grew slick with cream, and she felt as though she were growing desperate for some kind of release.
The sudden intrusion of footsteps caught Ava completely by surprise. “Ava, we reported the smell—Oh!” Francesca’s sentence ended on a squeak of surprise. “Uh. Wrath and I were just leaving. Really.”
Ava ripped her mouth away from Nash’s and jumped back as though burned. She retreated to the island and tried to remember what she was doing. Cream pie. Right. She was making a Boston cream pie because she needed a distraction from the sight of her ex-husband burying a dead body in his backyard.
A few feet away, Nash was staring at her as though he was a wolf and she was a yummy lamb. Ava ignored him. She had to. She could not let this cretin get to her! He was just a man. She was totally over whatever they’d had before. It was done and over with. Wait. What was Francesca talking about?
“The phone call,” Ava said forcefully. “Tell me about the phone call, Francesca. You called Boston PD?”
“Yeah.”
From the corner of her eye, Ava could see Francesca glance at Nash. The man appeared to be speechless or something. Although, with Nash, it was probably some rude and borderline nasty male ego version of speechless. He was currently standing with his back to the room. He was facing her back doors with his arm braced above his head on the doorframe. Any closer and his nose would actually make a print on her glass doors. What was he doing anyway?
Oh! She was supposed to be focused on Francesca. Right. Ava gazed expectantly at her sister-in-law. Francesca ripped her gaze away from Nash and gave Ava one of those looks. The kind of looks that only get passed between two people who have known each other for so long that words just aren’t necessary. Not that Ava was going to tell Francesca one damn thing. There wasn’t anything to say!
Wrath was totally oblivious. He strode into the kitchen right behind Francesca and headed for the island. Before Ava could react, Wrath dipped one finger into the pie batter and stuck it into his mouth.
“Ummm,” Wrath moaned. “You make the best food, Ava. Seriously. But don’t ever tell Tegan I said that.”
Ava chuckled. Her daughter was not much of a cook. “So, what did the police say?” She could at least pretend to be focused on the right topic.
“They said they would go check it out.” Wrath shrugged. “I don’t suppose we can say anything else. Right? Francesca pretended to live next door. She told them that she’d seen her neighbor digging in his yard next to his pergola and there was a horrible odor coming from the yard that reminded her of dead animals.”
Ava pressed her lips together. It would be interesting to see what the police made of that. “You guys realize that the closest neighbor is probably half a mile away, right?”
Wrath snorted. “Those cops will take one look at that address and either want to go dig around or want to leave it alone. There’s really no telling what will happen.”
“It’s not fair!” Ava burst out suddenly. She swatted the batter so fiercely with the spatula that a goodly amount slopped out of the bowl. “The man gets away with everything! How is that possible? He is not that smart!”
“Maybe it’s time to head down to Sokolov territory and find out what they have to say about the fact that their bosses seem to keep disappearing.” Wrath made the suggestion just as he was trying to swipe up the spilled batter with his finger.
Ava smacked his hand with a clean wooden spoon. “Would you knock it off? I don’t know when you last washed your hands, but I’m thinking it was at least an hour or two ago.”
Wrath looked affronted. “Hey! I always wash when I use the head.”
“Comforting, really,” Ava said sarcastically. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to Tegan?”
He glanced at his watch. “Shit. Yes.”
The man disappeared like a wraith through the back door. Moments later, she heard a car start out on the street. Wrath’s exit left Ava, Francesca, and Nash still standing awkwardly in the kitchen.
Ava quickly poured her batter into the pan before shoving the whole thing unceremoniously into the oven. At the moment, she didn’t even know why she was making the thing. It was going to take around an hour to cook. She didn’t want to hang around the kitchen for an hour. She wanted to go hide in her bedroom, lock the door, and pull out that box of candy she had hidden in her closet. A few candy bars might go a long way toward—well, toward something.
NASH WISHED THAT Francesca would excuse herself. The woman was now attached to Quentin Torrance in a permanent fashion. Shouldn’t she go home and hang out with him? Quentin was still technically recovering from a gunshot wound, although the former marine acted as though nothing had happened and seemed to have no lingering effects or much in the way of pain.
“How’s Quentin?” Nash asked Francesca in hopes of getting her to take the hint.
She turned to stare at him as though he had grown a second head. “Quentin is fine. I can’t even get him to admit that it hurts at all. He was good as new the day after it h
appened, and by Friday, it was as if he hadn’t been hurt at all. It must be a marine thing.”
Ava snorted. “Tegan says Wrath whines like a baby about his injuries.”
“Wrath has a penchant for getting himself shot on a regular basis,” Nash pointed out. “I’ve never known anyone who seems so prone to taking a bullet in the side or the shoulder.”
“How about you?” Ava looked directly at Nash. “Do you get shot very often?”
Nash raised his brows. What was she playing at? “Not as a rule. No. Why?”
“You’re just such an asshole that I would have thought you would draw bullets like honey draws bees.” Ava’s sweet smile was so at odds with what she was saying that Nash almost didn’t grasp the full meaning at first.
Then Francesca snorted and covered her mouth with her hands. “So. I think I’m going to get out of here and let you guys—well, I suppose I’ll just take it on faith that you’re not going to kill each other.”
Neither Nash nor Ava said a word. Francesca bobbed her head and turned around to leave without saying another word. Nash just kept staring at Ava. That’s what she thought? She figured he was such an ass that everyone he knew wanted to put a bullet in his head? Nice.
He vaguely registered the sound of the door closing as Francesca left the house. That seemed to be all it took to unfreeze Ava. She stomped around the island and stopped right underneath his nose. She flung her head back and stared up at him. The heat of her glare was enough to remind him of the desert sun. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have a truck sitting across the street where you can go sit and pout?”
“I don’t pout,” he said automatically.
“Oh, excuse me!” She put her hands on her hips and curled her lip in obvious anger. “Then, why don’t you just retreat to your little surveillance vehicle and pretend that you’re working, while you sit there and feel sorry for yourself? Does that work for you?”
Nash Security Solutions Page 63
