Frost Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  And something told me that Frost wouldn’t be fine with helping out a criminal. There was too much righteous fury in those eyes of his.

  Peter didn’t faze Frank, though. He finished devouring his burger, wiped his fingers free of grease and crumpled up the paper wrap and napkin. I glanced down at my half-finished dinner still clutched in my hands. “Hungry much?”

  “Starving.” He sat back, his elbows on his armrest, his fingers steepled in front of him. He let me finish eating in silence.

  “So, I guess you and your boss get the whole story at the same time?”

  He grunted. “Guess so.”

  I finished as much of my burger as I could and set the rest on the greasy wrapper.

  “Done?”

  I nodded.

  “Before we go in there,” he said quietly, “how much have you not told us?”

  I made a face. Deceiving Frank and his co-workers was the last thing I wanted. But I’d tried to tell him in the car earlier, hadn’t I? “A little,” I admitted reluctantly. “But it’s all stuff I just found out, okay?”

  He chewed his lip, his jaw working hard, clenching and releasing. “As long as I don’t look like an asshole in there, okay? I told you I’d stick by you and do what I think is right. But I need you to understand that making that choice is the last thing I want.”

  “Choice?”

  “Between you and my p–” he stopped himself and began again. “Between you and my partners.”

  “Do you think he’ll pull you from my case?”

  He pushed back from the desk. “Looks like we’re about to find out, ain’t we?”

  “Suppose so,” I agreed. I got up and followed him out of the office as he led me back up to the front, then back around to the opposite side of the small building to Peter Frost’s small, discreet office. On the wall behind him hung a painting of a large wolf crouched on a rock, a mountain panorama expanding in the background. Other than that, the only other piece of decoration was a small succulent, a cactus—the type of plant you could forget to water for days, or weeks, at a time.

  Peter sat at his keyboard, typing out an email. He didn’t glance up at us.

  I swallowed hard as I went inside and took a seat, folding my hands carefully in my lap. I hadn’t felt like this since I was in prep school, the first and only time I’d gotten called down to the dean’s office for a stupid prank we’d pulled on Ms. Evett, our biology teacher. Embalmed worms in a teacher’s desk drawer is apparently almost worth a suspension.

  Frank took the seat beside me, his massive frame squeezing into the comparably small chair. Frost maneuvered his mouse, clicked a couple times, then reached up and turned off his monitor and turned his attention to the two of us.

  He cleared his throat and looked me straight in the eye. He didn’t look angry. He looked resigned. “Ms. Maxwell, I’m going to be blunt here because things have begun to spiral out of the original parameter of our agreed upon contract. I don’t feel that you have been honest with us.”

  I squeaked involuntarily and looked down.

  “This was initially an investigation of a break-in, to supplement Sheriff Peak’s own investigation.”

  I turned back to face him. “That’s what–”

  He held up his hand, cutting me off. “Please, Ms. Maxwell, let me continue. One of my men has been shot at by cartel soldiers with fully automatic weapons. There’s a Russian mafia hitman in town. And I have a feeling that you two are coming back from Durango with even more complications.”

  Beside me, Frank shifted in his seat as much as he could.

  “If you had been honest with us about what was happening with your father’s company from the very beginning, we may have been able to provide better protection, maybe moved you to a safer location. But, as it is, you tried to write us a hot check. Now, what else are you hiding from us?”

  I raised a hand to stop him. “Hold on, stop right there. A hot check?”

  “Your father’s bank accounts are frozen, Ms. Maxwell. M Three Investments is under investigation by the FBI and the SEC, and they’ve already arrested one of the partners in the firm on money laundering charges. It’s all over the news.”

  I let out a breath. I tried to suck in another, but air wouldn’t come at all. Suddenly, my heart was beating like a college drumline. They were moving on my father already? But they’d just suspected him, hadn’t they? I thought they had no evidence!

  “Boss man,” Frank piped up, “all due respect, we ain’t had phones or turned on the radio since we left Durango.”

  Suddenly, everything my stepmother and Barbara Hacks had told me became real. Before, it had all just been talk. It had been something happening to someone else. Now, though? Now it was like my whole life had been pulled into a huge lie. My whole future a charade. I tried to suck in another breath, but it wouldn’t come. “Already?” I croaked, my voice barely obeying my commands.

  Peter’s judging eyes fell on my face and changed almost imperceptibly. “Ms. Maxwell? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice so distant it might as well have been on the moon.

  “Ashley?” Frank asked, gripping my arm. “Boss, get a bag or something for her to breathe into. I think she’s hyperventilating, having a panic attack or something.”

  The world seemed to darken as my head suddenly felt lighter than a helium balloon.

  “Ashley?” Frank asked, shoving a crumpled bag into my hand and guiding it to my mouth. “Breathe, Ashley, you gotta breathe.”

  I breathed into the bag. I sucked in air from the bag, getting a whole mouthful of the scent of old diner food. Pepper, salt, grease, all going straight into my lungs, causing me to almost gag. But still, I kept breathing, the bag inflating and deflating with each exhale and inhale.

  Frank stroked the back of my head. “You ain’t gonna die on me yet, are you?”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head, and kept breathing into the bag as I felt my heart rate slow down, my chest loosen.

  “Guess you didn’t know,” Peter said, wincing a little as that powerful and confident shell of his seemed to crack with a hairline fracture. “Sorry.”

  “Gonna be okay?” Frank asked.

  I nodded and took the old Dixie’s bag away from my mouth. Is that all they freaking ate around here? Burgers and cheap, greasy food from that place?

  “You sure?”

  I nodded again and patted his hand. “Just…give me a second.”

  Both men stayed silent, giving me a moment to figuratively get my legs beneath me. Finally, Frank stroked the back of my head again. “You gonna be okay?”

  I nodded, taking a deep breath. “This is all just, I don’t know, a shock.”

  “Earlier,” Peter said as he leaned forward on his desk, “you said already. What did you mean by that?”

  I closed my eyes and licked my dry lips. “I just found out about the investigation when we were in Durango. I decided when we got here that I needed to tell Frank about it, but he stopped me.”

  “Just worried the car they let us borrow was bugged, that’s all.”

  Frost nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Go ahead. Just go slow and tell us what you know, Ms. Maxwell.”

  “Then you’ll decide whether or not you’ll keep the case?”

  Peter’s eyes flitted from mine to Frank’s, then back again. “Please just tell your story and we’ll figure out what to do afterward.”

  And so I began to tell them what I knew. Everything. About the Yucatecah Cartel, the Russian Mob, and the Cayman Island accounts. And how my stepmother and Barbara Hacks wanted to get to my father before the authorities so they could try and cover their tracks.

  I told them all of it, from beginning to end.

  At first it was just a trickle of honesty. Then it became a deluge.

  Peter nodded at all the right spots, only asking a couple questions here and there.

  “And that’s it,” I finally said, my arms wrapped around myself in a tight hug. “All that I can remember, at least. A
nd, now, I don’t know what to do.” I sniffled a little, realizing I was on the verge of tears.

  His eyes softened.

  “What do you think, boss?” Frank’s question got a look from Peter that I couldn’t quite place. But he pressed on. “Can we stay on it?”

  Frost’s nostrils flared a little, and he nodded. “Alright, this is how it’s going to work.” He leaned forward and looked me square in the eye. “You are not going to your home tonight. I don’t know if someone wants to use you as a bargaining chip or they think you know something, but I believe you might be in danger. Hell, I know you’re in danger. I just don’t know who’s going to take the first shot at you.”

  I swallowed again and nodded. That didn’t sound good.

  “You’ll be staying at Frank’s place tonight, since his roommate Matthew, who also works here, is out of town on business. He won’t mind, will he?”

  Frank shook his head.

  “You won’t be alone, either. Frank, Richard, and Jake will all be staying with you.”

  “Can I at least go back to the cabin to get some, you know, stuff for sleeping over?”

  “Not a chance. We have a go-bag for women that Gen and Lacy Richter both put together, should have everything you need. Get me?”

  I nodded, hugging myself tighter.

  “In the morning,” he continued, “you’re going to go down to speak to Sheriff Peak, right alongside Frank. If you would like to call an attorney, I’d make your arrangements tonight. Peak’s a little, uh, old school on the uptake, and my impression was that he doesn’t see anything you necessarily did wrong. But I can’t give you legal advice.”

  He picked up the phone and punched a number. “Jake, come in here and help Ms. Maxwell get everything together.”

  “While you’re with my men, you will listen to everything they tell you, Ms. Maxwell. If you do not, you may get yourself, or them, killed. I sent enough men home in body bags during my time in the service. These men are my family. Do you understand?”

  I was struck mute by his words, by the increasing weight of seriousness that each sentence seemed to add onto my shoulders. I nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

  “Good.”

  There was a knock on the open door, and I glanced over to see Jake standing there. “Ms. Maxwell? Let me get you set up.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven - Frank

  “Trust her yet?” I asked quietly as soon as Ashley had disappeared around the corner with Jake.

  My boss nodded. He was still tense, his shoulders tightly hunched, his teeth chewing away at the inside of his cheek. “I do,” he said slowly. “Couple things I can’t figure out, though. Where the hell is Mr. Maxwell? And what do they want from her? And are they all playing on the same team?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Listen, one thing I still haven’t told her or you about was my little meeting with Simon after I got off the phone with you.” I gave him the quick rundown. “What do you think?”

  He furrowed his brow. “To me, it sounds like he wants to make a play at something. How much did she say was in those accounts? Over thirty million?”

  “More than enough to betray your employers over. He’d definitely know about it, too, if he’s in charge of the operation.”

  “Agreed. Some men might even see the risk of getting tagged by the Russians or the Mexicans as worthwhile with that kind of capital on the line.”

  “Hell, in the right country, you could buy your own small army for that kind of money, still have plenty leftover to retire in nothing but rum and women for the rest of your life.”

  Peter gave me a wry smile. “You put it that way, doesn’t sound so bad.”

  I leaned back in my too-small chair, the idea of that kind of filthy lucre dancing around in my mind for the briefest of moments.

  “You trust him?” Peter asked.

  I shook my head. “Fuck no. He was just a drinking buddy. Never worked a day with him.”

  My boss leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. He looked me up and down briefly before his eyes finally settled on mine. I could see, behind his eyes, he was calculating whether or not I was up to this. Worrying about whether or not I’d developed feelings for Ashley. He knew my past. It had shown up in the papers after all, been the reason he’d come down to find me in the jungles and on the streets of Brazil.

  “Already know what you’re going to say, boss.”

  “How close to this are you, Frank?”

  “Close enough,” I admitted with a shrug. “But not too close. I promise you. I’m the best man for this job. You know that.”

  He nodded. “Sure your emotions won’t get in the way?”

  “My emotions?”

  “I’m not blind or stupid. I can damn well see that you care about her.”

  I nodded. He was right. I did care about her. I couldn’t deny that. She’d started off as some little spoiled brat to me, but something about her had grown on me. But was it something more than just an attachment, an attraction? I didn’t know. But there was one thing I was positive about: I was the best man for the job.

  “I’ll admit,” I began slowly, “if this had been a year ago, you’d have been right about it being an issue. I would’ve backed myself off, without you even having to tell me twice. The idea of being attached to a client like this, on any level beyond professional, that wouldn’t have worked for me. But since I’ve been here, working with you guys on stuff like the dust up from Richard and Jessica’s case a few months ago, I started to realize sometimes it’s a good thing to have emotions. To help people for more than just a paycheck.” I paused and licked my lips.

  Peter nodded for me continue.

  “It’s like back when I was in the service, you know, over in Iraq? Eventually, it was all about the mission, and the guy beside you. And you’d do anything you had to in order to make sure you both came home alive. And now, well, now it’s about the mission and the pack. I’m starting to realize that the attachment part of it, that it actually makes me stronger, not weaker.”

  Peter gave me a slight smile, one that began and stopped at one corner of his lips. “Good,” was all he said.

  We sat there for a moment longer. When it was clear the boss didn’t have anything else to say, I stood. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I said, “I gotta get the client to a safe home.”

  “Take a light shift tonight,” Peter said to my back as I left his office. “Only a couple hours. Need you fresh when you meet the sheriff in the morning.”

  I gave a wave of acknowledgment as I headed back to my office to grab my sidearm and coat, stifling a yawn along the way. He was right. I was beat. Even though it was only ten, I was beat. Not only had I helped to track down a burglar, I’d also cleaned a cabin, and been in it while it was shot up.

  I headed back to my office and collected Ashley, then popped my head back into Jake’s office and got my keys from him.

  “Aw man,” he said, tossing them to me. “Figured you might lemme keep the old girl for the night.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I joked as I caught them from the air. “Did Hell freeze over and swine learn to soar while we were down in Durango today?”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  As we headed out the door, we heard the ruckus of the office closing up for the night. The opening and shutting of desk drawers, the electronic chimes of PCs being shutdown, lights being flicked off. Jake would be along shortly, I knew. Hopefully, Peter would be headed home for the evening also. He was the only one of us besides Richard with any kind of family, and I knew the boss needed to be home at least some of the time.

  “She’s beautiful, by the way,” Ashley said, startling me a little as we climbed into the Mustang.

  “What’s that? Who?”

  She ran her hand over the leather interior and smiled in appreciation. “Your car. What’s her name?”

  I chuckled. “Why do you think I’d have named her?”

  “Well, I thought that’s what guys did. You’ve never nam
ed a car before? Even I named my first car.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked as I pulled out of the lot and started for home, the classic engine roaring, the tires gripping as we zipped out through the Rock. I spun the wheel, pointed it for the two-bedroom condo I called home with Matt. “What’d you name your first car?”

  “Herbie.”

  “Like Herbie the Love Bug?” I chuckled. “Amateur.”

  “Well, we can’t all be super original like you and not name a car. Come on, she deserves a name. What would you name it? Now? If you had to, I mean.”

  “If I had to?” I paused and thought about my choices for a moment. Before I realized it, my choice just spilled out of my mouth. “How about Ashley?”

  She laughed. “The Ashley? Pandering to the audience a little, aren’t you?”

  “Well, she’s a good, dependable car. Got a good pedigree, a good engine. Why not? Ashley’s as good a name as any.”

  “I just don’t think you really need to name it after me, that’s all.”

  “After you?” I asked as I pulled onto a side road. “Who said I was naming it after you? A little self-centered, don’t you think?”

  “Fine, fine. You name it whatever you want.”

  We continued on our way, bantering back and forth.

  What I didn’t tell her was that I’d lied. The Mustang did have a name.

  Meredith.

  Chapter Twenty-eight - Ashley

  “Nice place,” I said as we stepped through the front door.

  Frank’s condo that he shared with his roommate had hardwood flooring and tasteful art on the walls, a few potted plants here and there, and a decent leather couch that wasn’t too badly scuffed. The majority of one wall was occupied by a set of bookshelves, packed and loaded with technical manuals, paperbacks, and an assortment of odds and ends. A glass door in the living room led to a small balcony.