“Don’t you think I have a right to poke at you?” she whispered. “You’re making assumptions that involve my life. Haven’t you given any thought to what I want? Does it matter to you? Do you care?”
Nash opened his mouth to speak but realized that they had an audience. Everyone at the table had stopped strategizing and had moved on to staring at Ava and Nash. There was an atmosphere of expectancy at the table. Finally, Ava seemed to realize that they were the center of attention, although she seemed far less concerned about it than Nash was.
“What?” Ava demanded. “Do not sit there and judge. Got it?”
“Not judging,” Quentin said hastily. “Although, I was thinking that you two are fighting this harder than the rest of us. Why don’t you just give into the inevitable?”
Nash didn’t like the way that sounded. “Inevitable? As in I have no control over my future? No, thank you.”
“You’re such a black-and-white thinker.” Tegan’s voice was laden with irritation. “I swear. Everything with you is off or on, in or out, up or down.”
“That’s how it works!” he argued. Did the woman not see that things either were or they weren’t?
“No.” Tegan shook her head. “What about when something is half in and half out?”
“Lying on the side of the pool, legs in and torso out,” Wrath suggested.
Kayla laughed. “One of those balloons where the helium is nearly gone, and the balloon won’t go up but won’t go down.”
“Oh, right!” Carson picked up the thread. He gestured to Nash. “Think of life as more of a dimmer switch than an off-and-on button. It will make things easier for you.”
“You people are completely out of your minds,” Nash muttered.
Then Ava threw her arms around his neck and gave him a squeeze. “But you like to be around us anyway. And the only reason any of us care is that we care about you.”
“You’re the boss,” Quentin said resolutely.
Tegan gave him a narrowed-eyed glare. “But if you keep screwing around with my mother, I’m going to have to kick your ass.”
Now his humiliation was complete. Perhaps he should just give in and accept that life wasn’t what he thought. Or something.
Chapter Fourteen
The first part of the plan was to get a message to Analise and Ralston. Of course, it needed to be a two-part missive. There was the part that Stedman was supposed to be made aware of, and the part that would explain the trap they were attempting to set up. Nash’s job was to find a way to relay this information without endangering Ralston or Analise. God help him if Stedman found out and somehow managed to hold his son hostage or some other nonsense.
The morning was clear and overcast. Another thick dose of fog had rolled in during the night. Nash was glad. The fog made it easier to hide his presence. Ralston lived in a good-sized building in the city. Security was almost a pleasant pastime for the man, which meant that when Nash got anywhere near the building, he would set off some kind of alarm. What he didn’t want was for the eyes across the street to notice what he was doing. At this point, Nash couldn’t even be certain whom the surveillance team belonged to, and that made them his priority.
Nash climbed the fire escape ladder of the building right next to Ralston’s. This building was the only one that offered a peek into the windows of Ralston’s four-story setup. The ladder squeaked, and Nash shifted his weight and tried to spread it out in order to be as quiet as possible. There was no reason to announce his presence.
He reached the top of the building without incident. Crouching on the roof, he felt in the pockets of his cargos for the selection of items he insisted all of his men carry. He extracted a small plastic box and flipped it open. Removing one syringe, he flicked the contents to make certain there were no major air bubbles. Then he slid the plastic case back into his pocket. It was time.
The rooftop surveillance setup looked very professional in its own way. Nash crept around the perimeter and noticed small metal casks likely filled with provisions, a military-grade camp light, and camping gear. Rarely did surveillance teams set up in the open air like this, but Ralston wasn’t exactly easy to spy on. The man had installed countermeasures on the sides of his four-story apartment that prevented anyone inside the neighboring buildings from seeing into his personal space. In fact, the only way to catch a glimpse was from here, and that was due to a round decorative window set into the side of the building that offered a very minimal way to keep an eye on Ralston’s personal quarters.
Of course, Nash could see plenty of listening equipment too. All in all, it really looked as if the feds were keeping an eye on Ralston. This operation had Miranda Brookes’s fingerprints all over it. Nash didn’t know the woman well. In fact, he had only a few rumors to go on, but the fact that this was all major overkill spoke volumes.
There were two agents up here, and they were utterly focused on something going on in the building. They were set up about twenty feet apart and kneeling on the roofline. Nash picked his first target and then approached slowly from the rear with measured, silent steps.
“These two have sex at least three times a day,” Nash’s target called out to his partner. “I wish I had a chick like that to fuck.”
Nash ground his teeth together. No matter how many times a day Analise and Ralston were having sex, he didn’t appreciate someone treating it like a peep show. Analise was a little bit like a younger sister to him. This meant he was going to enjoy what came next.
In one smooth movement, Nash stepped up behind his target, wrapped his arm around the neck, and used his hand to cover the mouth. All the while, he was plunging the syringe full of sedative into the man’s neck. The guy stiffened but did not struggle. Nash eased his body to the ground.
Now, Nash turned his attention to the other target. This time, he had no intention of neatly sedating his victim. Pulling a knife from his pocket, Nash bared the blade and rolled his neck to prepare himself. If there was a struggle, he really didn’t relish the thought of accidentally stabbing himself.
Nash stepped up behind the second man. He wrapped both arms around his victim and put the blade to his throat. The guy went ramrod stiff and did not move. Wise choice.
“Now,” Nash whispered. “You’re going to tell me why you’re here and who you’re reporting to.”
“We’re just watching,” the man stammered. “I swear. This isn’t meant to be an assassination attempt.”
“I know that.” Nash sighed. “You don’t even have a rifle up here.”
“Oh. Right.” The guy seemed very rattled. “We’ll go, man. All right?”
“No.” Nash wondered if being stupid was this guy’s go-to interrogation deflection tactic. “Whom do you report to? Brookes? Is she the one spying on Ralston?”
“No! Well, yes, but no!”
Great. This was getting stranger and stranger. Nash let the blade get a little closer to the guy’s throat. A drop of blood welled to the surface of the tender skin beneath the man’s neck.
“Okay!” he yelped. “We report to Miranda, but we actually work for Sergei Yurevich. Yurevich is working with her.”
Nash got the feeling that Sergei was only working with Miranda Brookes as long as she could get him information. When Analise had sniffed out Sergei before, the man had been attempting to infiltrate the Sokolov organization. What if he was only a federal informant so long as it coincided with his own agenda? That was a useful bit of information.
“Thanks,” Nash muttered. “You’ve been very helpful.”
With that, Nash used the hilt of the knife to smack the guy on the back of the neck. Rendered instantly unconscious, the man shuffled to the cement surface of the rooftop. As Nash stared down at the unfamiliar man, he realized that he could not have these clowns trying to listen in on what Nash was going to say to Ralston. That meant clearing this rooftop.
Nash pulled out his phone and dialed. “Hello, Boston PD? I’d like to report a couple of homeless bums living on top of a downtow
n building.”
*
Sometimes Ava wondered if there was a special sort of karma for people like her, who always seemed to wind up begging an audience with someone whom she had taken great pains to be rid of quite recently.
She wished they could have done this meeting at Chotzky’s, but since she was meeting with Judson and Warren Politte, Chotzky’s wasn’t exactly the best place to make them feel inclined to be cooperative. That meant she was having a breakfast meeting at The Sunrise Room. She hated this place. It reminded her of Stedman and all of the horrible business meetings he had dragged her to over the years. Her only purpose then had been as a trophy. At least today she was the one holding the team banner and leading the charge.
“Good morning, Mr. Politte.” Ava allowed Warren Politte to shake her hand before turning to his son. Judson appeared far too interested in the omelet bar to even notice that they were exchanging pleasantries. This was the man Stedman had wanted Tegan to marry? Ava tried not to recoil when she held out her hand to him. “And Judson?”
Warren had to elbow Judson to get his attention. “Oh, yes. Ms. Harte.”
The three of them—or rather the two of them—sat down. Judson had already bolted from the table toward the man flipping omelets in a saucepan.
“Judson loves The Sunrise Room,” Warren said fondly.
Ava tried to remind herself that plenty of people were truly stupid when it came to the topic of their children. She smiled instead. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me this morning on such short notice.”
“I’ll admit that I was surprised. Once Tegan and Judson severed their agreement, we hadn’t heard one word from your camp.” Warren took a sip of his coffee.
Ava felt as though her face might shatter. “There was never an agreement between Tegan and Judson, Warren. There was an agreement between Stedman and anything that might net him a bigger profit at the end of the month.”
Warren gave a hearty laugh. Moments later, a waiter put down a huge platter of food in front of him. When the man reached to set Ava’s plate in front of her, she gave him an icy look designed to remind him that a lady is always served first—except at The Sunrise Room.
Ava began to slice the melon on her plate. She hadn’t ordered much, because she was really hoping this didn’t take long. “Warren, I have a proposition for you.”
“Does this involve marriage?” Warren’s toothy grin was almost predatory. “Because Tegan has not been acting like a single woman. Everybody knows that.”
“Perhaps,” Ava allowed. “But I’m suggesting the appearance of an engagement, not a real attachment or agreement at all.”
“Excuse me?” Warren’s smile died a quick death. He shoveled a few spoonfuls of eggs into his mouth as though he needed them to bolster his confidence.
Ava tried not to laugh at the sight of him with egg on his face. It was just too ironic. “Let’s be candid, shall we, Warren? Stedman is a crook. We all know it. He has been working with the Russian mob for the last year. Perhaps before that. I don’t know. He has managed to launder money for them, but more than that, he has also invested in mob-run businesses and made himself a regular target for both the feds and rival mobs who are tired of him using backdoor methods to steal right out from underneath their noses.”
Warren’s mouth dropped open. “No shit?”
Was he really that naive? Ava sighed. “No shit. So, what I am proposing is to stage an engagement between Judson and Tegan in order to draw Stedman out. He won’t be able to resist the urge to try and take over your business through the connection between the kids. It’s in his nature. He’s done it before”—she thought ruefully of her own parents and of Francesca’s—“and he will continue to do it again.”
“What’s in it for us?” Warren demanded. “Judson is going to be humiliated again.”
“Money,” Ava said simply. “Once Stedman has been put away and is out of the picture, my sister-in-law and I will be in control of Hyde-Pierson Financial. If you want to invest, I will approve your investment. If you want shares, I’ll make that happen too.”
“Shares,” Warren said flatly. “Although you don’t think that company will hit the deck when Stedman is arrested?”
“No. I don’t.” Ava smiled. Then she passed Warren a significant look. “Especially not if our partner companies and friends in the financial community back us unequivocally.”
“Ah, I see your game.” Warren actually smiled and nodded. In the meantime, Judson managed to return to the table with a plate stacked high with food. Warren looked at his son. “You’re engaged to Tegan Hyde-Pierson again, son. Congratulations.”
“Wait.” Judson frowned. “That woman wouldn’t lift a finger to pour water on me if I were on fire.”
“That’s because you’re rude, snobby, and self-absorbed, Judson,” Ava said candidly. “But fortunately, this is a pretend engagement, so none of that matters.” She stood up. “Your father will explain.”
Ava held out her hand, and Warren took it. They shook like men making an ironclad deal. Now. If they could just get the rest of the pieces to fall into place, their plan would go off without a hitch.
Chapter Fifteen
Ralston’s muttered curse as Nash walked up the stairs and into his living room did a lot to soothe Nash’s battered ego. His pride had really taken a beating in the last few days. At least he felt like it. It was nice to know that he wasn’t out of the game just yet.
“How did you get in here?” Ralston grunted. “You know there are a couple of peepers across the alley. They’re going to know you’re here and tattle to the feds.”
Oh, the sweet taste of knowing more than someone who always seemed to know it all. Nash grinned and helped himself to a cup of coffee. “Actually, your little hangers-on have been eradicated for the moment. I went up and had a chat with them and then called the police to have them evicted.”
“On what grounds?” Ralston demanded with a deep frown.
Nash shrugged and took a bracing sip of hot coffee. “I told the police they were two homeless men living on a roof.”
Ralston’s eyebrows shot up. “Nice one.”
“Thank you.” Nash sighed with enjoyment over the coffee. Ralston did have good taste when it came to certain things.
There was an ear-shattering shriek. Nash deliberately did not turn around, because he had a bad feeling that he had caught Analise getting out of the shower. He had no desire to see her naked. So, he raised his hand and waved without turning to look. “Morning, Analise!”
“Fuck. Off!” she shouted back. “What is he doing here?” she demanded of Ralston.
“I’m sorry,” Nash said sarcastically. “I was under the impression that the two of you—Analise in particular—were still working for me.”
“Right,” Analise said, her voice dripping sarcasm.
Nash heard her retreat to the bedroom once again. There was the sound of slamming drawers and stuff being thrown around. Nash gazed at Ralston. “You know you need to put a lid on that temper before she destroys your stuff.”
“I’d rather buy new stuff than piss her off more,” Ralston commented drily. “Have you ever seen that woman really mad? It’s disturbing.”
Nash chuckled. Ralston was right. His insight revealed a lot about how much he cared about Analise. Nash was pleased that she had finally found someone to truly appreciate her unique brand of femininity. Not all men could handle the hardcore former marine.
“So, why are you here?” Ralston perched on a barstool and continued eating his breakfast, which seemed to be fruit and a bagel.
Nash looked at the light meal with interest. “Did Analise make that for you?”
“Yeah. She says I need to eat healthier.” Ralston did not sound as if he were especially appreciative of Analise’s opinion. “I used to eat eggs and cheese every morning.” He seemed almost wistful. “I miss those days.”
Nash snorted. “If you’re done with your trip down memory lane, I would be happy to
tell you what brings me knocking.”
“You didn’t knock,” Analise said irritably as she stalked into the kitchen. She deliberately knocked her shoulder against Nash on her way to the coffee maker.
“I have a proposition for you,” Nash began. He addressed Ralston on purpose. He was hoping that he did not have to remind Analise that he was still paying her salary.
Ralston made a gesture to tell Nash to keep going. “I’m listening.”
“I need you to pass some information to your father.” Nash started off slowly and tried to make his proposition sound as reasonable as possible. When it came to Stedman’s fate, Ralston had always been a little mixed as to what he thought Stedman’s “punishment” should be.
“What sort of information?” Ralston’s brows drew together in suspicion.
“We need you to tell him that your sister is engaged to Judson Politte.”
Ralston laughed out loud. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. We’ve got it set up. There will be an official announcement at a party thrown by Ava tomorrow night. Judson and Warren Politte will be there.” Nash could not help but feel smug about the legwork they’d done on this scheme.
“To what purpose?” Ralston demanded.
“We’re going to draw your father out,” Nash explained. “There’s no way he would be able to resist the urge to get a piece of the financial gains. We’re going to have Tegan propose a hostile takeover of Politte Investments. Stedman won’t be able to resist. He’ll want to use his mafia connections to suck the money right out of Politte in order to weaken the company enough to force them to sell.”
“That’s devious,” Ralston commented. “And what happens to Stedman once your sting operation is done? In reality, he won’t have done anything that he hasn’t already done.”
“Nope, but this time we will be tracking him,” Nash said with relish. “We’ll see every single move he makes.”
“You still didn’t answer him,” Analise prodded. “What happens to his father once this is over?”
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