Frost Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  I sized him up. His words seemed so at odds with the way he presented himself. But, like I thought before, it just went to show how this man knew that appearances mattered. If I’d seen him walking down the side of the road, I’d never have looked twice. If I saw him in his suit, though, I’d wonder why he was so out of season. Why he was down here in the fall, and not during the winter. This way, he could blend in, almost like a local, in total and clear plain sight. Damn, this guy was a manipulative dick.

  His eyes shifted to mine. “And who’s this? Getting familiar with the help?” Hell, that almost sounded like a joke. But I could tell from the delivery that he was making anything but a joke. Ashley looked down at her arm around me, almost as if she realizing it for the first time. She gave me a quick bit of pressure, a half-hug, before pulling away.

  “Frank is my…friend.”

  That was fair. I didn’t know what we were, either. At least officially. I knew I loved her, I’d reject my boss’s orders for her, break from my pack for her. Even die for her, if I had to. But we weren’t official.

  His eyes, narrowed and tight, traveled up and down my form. “Yes. Friend. I see.” He turned and carefully shut the back door.

  I grunted.

  “Oh, it speaks.” He quirked a smile that never even tried to reach his eyes. “How utterly pleasant.” He looked around the cabin. “Did you hire a new interior decorator for the place while I was away, dear?”

  She swallowed dryly. “What are we doing, Father? What are you doing?”

  “First,” he said. “I’m grabbing a drink. I haven’t had a good scotch in days.” He turned on his chunky heels and headed into the dining room for the wet bar.

  Wow. Not even an attempt at a hug. Talk about a loving family. “What the fuck is this shit?” I breathed as he left the room.

  She made a face. “Father’s an asshole. He thinks only people with money are worth a shit.”

  “He does realize he was just born with all this, right?”

  She sighed, made a face. “You know, I don’t think so. I think he genuinely believes he’s the reason for all of this, and not my grandfather.”

  I grit my teeth and ground them together.

  Glass clinked on glass. “Are you almost ready?” Maxwell called from the dining room. “To leave, I mean? Oh, and don’t worry about your passport, I have one for you already. And pack light, we’ll be able to buy you new clothes when we arrive at our destination.”

  I shook my head at Ashley. No. This was all wrong.

  “But I have mine, Father.”

  “As I said, dear, you’re not to worry. You won’t need it.”

  “No,” I mouthed at Ashley, shaking my head.

  Maxwell came wandering back in, glass of scotch in hand. He stopped, one hand in his pocket like he was relaxing after a long day at the office, and took a gulp of his drink.

  “Father, I think we should talk.”

  It was then that I realized how much Ashley’s voice and tone had changed. Ever since Maxwell had arrived on the scene, she’d begun to affect some sort of stereotypical east coast lilt to her voice.

  “About what, my dear?”

  “About where you’ve been for the last two weeks.”

  “Well, here, of course. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  She shook her head. “No, I mean besides here. Why you ran.”

  “I didn’t run, dear. No, no. I got out ahead of things, the way a good businessman does. I saw the trend was changing, and so I moved to assess that trend and to use it to my own advantage.” He walked out into the middle of the room, surveyed the destruction again as he took another, much smaller this time, sip of scotch. “What would you have had me do? Stick around in New York and open myself up to all the liabilities?”

  She took a step away from him. She lifted her chin and set her shoulders back.

  I grinned. Here it came. Now we were past the niceties.

  “I would have preferred, Father, that you told me the truth!”

  Chapter Forty-five - Ashley

  I think the last time my heart had pounded like this was the day I’d confronted my father on the choice of universities I’d been given. It was his alma mater, or his alma mater. No in-betweens.

  I’d lost that argument, of course. I wouldn’t lose this one. Not with Frank by my side. And not with this other man who only seemed to be my father standing in front of me. Sure, I knew objectively that he was my father. But all the lies? The disguise? It was almost too much for me to be able to take any of it seriously.

  “I would have preferred,” I continued, “that you wouldn’t keep lying to me, piling up bullshit after bullshit diversion. Do you think this is a fucking game?”

  His face seemed to twist more and more each time I swore. “So is that what this last year has taught you? To not respect your father? To not respect me?”

  “No, the last two days,” I replied, my voice grating, “have taught me to not respect people who don’t deserve it. I know you’re lying to me, I just can’t figure out what exactly your game is.”

  He looked over the rim of his glass at me as he took another swig, this time fuller than the first.

  “So you don’t believe me, then? That this was all a ploy to put me away?”

  “Why should I? From what Frank and I have figured out, we know Elizabeth was trying to steal your money. We know your assistant Barbara is somehow involved. And we know that somehow M Three Investments has been laundering money for criminals. And believe me, I know there’s no way your baby of a company could get by with that kind of thing without you knowing about it.”

  He guffawed. Actually guffawed. “My baby of a company?”

  I crossed my arms. “You spent more time in the arms of that company than you ever did in mother’s. You spent more nights and weekends with those people than with me. Always making another deal.”

  He sneered and turned to his side, taking another drink. He shot me a glance. “Fine, yes, I did launder the money. But I didn’t steal it! That wasn’t me!”

  “Who then? Elizabeth? Barbara?” I took a step towards him. “Is that what those documents are up there?”

  “Those documents? Those are everything. They’re all of it, the whole paper trail, showing what both sides did. Me getting involved with these people, me trying to pull out the knife that Elizabeth and Hacks so elegantly placed between my shoulder blades by stealing the money I owed those men and putting it in the Caymans.” He drank down the last of his scotch with a flourish, his eyes back on mine. He’d always had a flair for the dramatic when it suited him. “But what does it matter, anyways?”

  “What does it matter?” I asked. “Father, they’re going to put you in prison!”

  “No, they won’t! I’ve been assured that, for my favors, I’ll just disappear. All I need to do is hand over a few fees, and I’ll be swooped out of here. I’ve been promised!”

  “Well, what makes you think I’d go with you, Father? That I’d want to leave my life behind?”

  “What are you going to do? Live without your allowance? Go become a waitress somewhere, live like an urchin? Without me, you have nothing, Ashley. Nothing!”

  I took a deep breath as I looked at him, his eyes bloodshot, the words coming from his mouth borderline insane. “If it came down to a choice between the two,” I said carefully, “then yes. I already told your bitch of a wife that I don’t want anything more from you people.”

  He rocked back a little on his heels. “You people?” he asked, scratching a hand through his beard. “I’m your father. I’m the man who raised you.”

  “Raised me?” I asked, faking my shock. “Raised me? Ms. Hilda had more to do with me than you did.”

  “Ms. Hilda?”

  “See? You don’t even remember the names of the nannies you and Mother paid to raise me!”

  He shook his head, finished his scotch. “Whatever your point is, I think you made it.” He waved the empty glass as if he could dispel m
y anger with it. “I take it you’re staying here, then, with him.”

  I looked back at Frank who was just behind me, and reached out and grabbed his hand. “Yeah,” I said defiantly and turned back to Father. “I’m staying with Frank. And, as far as I’m concerned, you’re dead to me. Just like Mother.”

  He grimaced like I’d just twisted that knife Barbara and the bimbo had left buried in his spine.

  Good. He deserved it for the nightmare he’d put me through over the last year. For the pain he’d helped those men continue to cause.

  “You know,” he said quietly, “if I hadn’t been party to it, to the laundering I mean, someone else would have stepped up and gladly taken my place. Money is money, and fees are fees, dear. It’s all green, and it all spends the same way.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t care. You could have not done it at all, despite what others were doing or not doing.”

  Carefully, he leaned forward and set his empty glass on the coffee table in front of him as a car pulled up out front. “That’s my ride.”

  I nodded. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”

  “My man will come in, collect the boxes, then I’ll be on my way.”

  “Nah, Maxwell. Reckon that ain’t gonna happen,” Frank said, earning him a disgusted look from my father. “Ain’t exactly my job to apprehend you or anything, but I ain’t gonna let you walk out of here with that evidence. Not if what you’re saying is true, that Elizabeth and Hacks were embezzling the money. They deserve to pay for this as much as you do. Y’all are all pieces of shit in my book.”

  “Will you stop me, then? Do you have any idea who I am, boy? I can ruin you.”

  “Reckon I don’t give a shit. You or your ride step foot on them stairs, I’m gonna have to break your legs. This way, at least you get to walk outta here and Ashley doesn’t have to see you rot in a prison cell. Not yet.”

  My father shrank back a little, his shoulders slumping for a moment. It was the closest I’ve ever seen to him being put in his place.

  I tightened my grip on Frank’s hand. None of my boyfriends had ever really pissed off my father before. Certainly not like this. It had always been, “Yes sir, no sir.” Pandering for his attention, trying to coerce him into hooking them up with a job, or even my hand.

  “So y’all go ahead and hustle on outta here before I call the sheriff and every other wing of law enforcement I can think of. Giving you a pass on that, at least.”

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever been so thoroughly disrespected in my life.”

  “Yeah? Stick around and you’ll find out how much worse it can get. That’s a promise.” He stepped up next to me and put an arm around my shoulders.

  “Fine,” my father spat. He looked back to me, his eyes softening a fraction. “Ashley.”

  I nodded. “Father.”

  He lingered for a moment longer before returning my nod. He turned and left the room, pulling open the front door.

  I released my breath in a heavy sigh and sagged against Frank as my shoulders loosened, as they seemed to unwind like some giant spring that that had been coiled for the last year at the center of my being.

  Then, my father yelled and the door slammed shut again as his feet slammed on the hardwood as he ran. “No! No, no, no, no! Shit!”

  “Dammit!” Frank yelled as he leapt into action and pulled me towards the back door. “I don’t think that was his ride!”

  Chapter Forty-six – Frank

  Ashley screamed as the battering ram slammed into the cabin’s front door, crunching the wood as they knocked open the door that hadn’t already been kicked in.

  How many times did I have to run this week?

  We’d almost made it out the back when Ashley’s father, his eyes wide and terrified, came running through the living room. Behind him the front door was forced open by the battering ram, the wood crunching under the heavy, unnecessary blows like a bull going through a lumber yard.

  “Maxwell?” shouted a voice I recognized. Simon Falkowski. They were already inside. “Martin Maxwell, you can make this easy, or you can make this real hard. We don’t give a shit one way or another.”

  Martin came running as boots trampled in through the front. The overwhelming smell of gun oil hit the air, along with the plastic scent of Kevlar. These guys were serious.

  I threw open the back door and ran out onto the porch as a strong wind blew down from the mountain. Cumin and mescal again. “Shit!”

  “What?” Ashley screamed as I shoved her back inside, knocking her father into a sprawl on the living room floor.

  “The cartel!” I yelled as I guided her into the kitchen, my body between her and any likely bullets, and forced her down behind the cabinets.

  None of this was good. None of this was going according to plan. If we moved from the kitchen, Simon and his men could easily cut us off. If we tried for the back, to use it as our egress, we had an unknown number of assailants with unknown armaments. And my pack was still en route.

  Not good. Not good at all.

  “Frank! That you in here?” Simon asked from the other side of the living room, even as Maxwell left a trail of blood through the broken glass still littering the floor. He crawled towards us, his face desperate. “We don’t wanna just start shooting all willy-nilly in here, Frank. Wouldn’t be good for business if we pumped you all full of holes.”

  “Please don’t give me to them!” Maxwell whispered hysterically from beside me. “Please!”

  Damn, he was pathetic. I grabbed hold of his jacket collar and yanked him back behind cover. I got up from my squat and poked my head far enough above the cabinets so I could see Simon standing there. “What do you want, Simon?”

  He was at the head of a group of four men, all wearing matching black tactical gear, all armed with heavy duty weaponry: automatics and submachine guns. I even saw an automatic shotgun. One blast from that bad boy, and we’d all be sprayed across the kitchen backsplash. It looked like a fucking SWAT convention in Ashley’s living room.

  I slumped back down behind the cabinets. The idea that they’d do anything against this kind of payload was all Hollywood bullshit. Maybe I’d have a chance if I could rip the granite countertop off and put it between me and them, but if they opened fire we were all fucked. We’d all have more holes in our bodies than a golf course.

  “What the fuck do you think we want? We came for the old man, buddy. He’s got certain account numbers that my client needs. Access numbers, Frank, money he embezzled from his company. Money he was laundering for those motherfuckers coming after you. You’re protecting a real piece of shit, you know that?”

  “I’ll never tell you anything!” Maxwell shouted.

  “You have the account numbers?” Ashley hissed. “I thought you said they set you up!”

  “Frank,” Simon growled. “Frank, this is gonna get real messy, real fast. You know that, right? No way you’re walking away from this if things goes south. No way.”

  “Dear, I was just getting them before they got me! I swear!”

  “Dammit, Father!”

  “Don’t wanna do this, Frank,” Simon said, glass crunching beneath his combat boots, “but I will if I gotta. You know that.”

  He was right. There was no way out of this. No way. “Yeah,” I called back. “I know. What about Elizabeth and Barbara Hacks? You just gonna hand the old man over to them?”

  One of the guys laughed. “No one to hand him over to.”

  “Can it, Parsons,” Simon swore.

  “What does he mean?” Ashley whispered in disbelief.

  “They’re dead,” I said loudly. “They’re both dead. Ain’t that right, Simon? When’d you do it? After their little meeting today? Or on the way here?”

  “Wasn’t like that, Frank. They promised me a cut, only way they could get me to take the deal off the books like I did. Then they started getting wishy-washy.”

  I sighed and shook my head. “So you decided to just take the whole pie, didn’t you?
” Simon had always seemed pretty dodgy, but to turn on a client like that? To break a deal? I glanced up at the clock on the microwave. Just a few minutes more and my pack would be here. Or the cartel would open fire on us all.

  He sighed. “You got to the count of five, Frank. Told you back in Durango that you’d have to make a choice, that none of these rich bitches cared about you. You give us what we want, you’ll get a cut. Thirty-five mill’s a pretty good payday, even split six ways.”

  “Anytime now, guys,” I mumbled as I looked over Ashley and her father. Both were wide-eyed as they looked back at me, cold sweat dripping down their faces as their fear rolled off them. I didn’t see any other way of doing this. I had to buy myself some more time.

  Maybe, just maybe, I could get them to leave Ashley here, safe with me. If I gave them just her father. Yeah. That might work. I looked at Ashley, my jaw working hard. God, she was beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. If it came down to her or her father, it was her, hands down. No real choice between the two.

  Maxwell chose that moment to speak up. “I don’t care what you do to me, you cretins! I’ll never tell you anything!”

  Great.

  “Change of plans, Frank. Looks like we’re gonna need them both. Five.”

  She looked back at me and shook her head. Tears began to form in her eyes as she thought she realized what I had to do.

  “Don’t worry, Ashley,” I said quietly. “I promise they won’t hurt you.”

  “Four.”

  Chapter Forty-seven – Ashley

  “Three.”

  Frank grabbed my father by the back of his coat as if he were picking a puppy up by its scruff, and yanked him from the floor. “Sorry, Maxwell.”

  My heart jackhammered. I tried to crawl backwards, but Frank’s other hand shot down and grabbed my ankle in a vice-like grip. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, sounding broken. “Just go along with it! I have–”

  I screamed and began to kick. No, no, no, this wasn’t happening. The one man I’d trusted throughout all this was turning me over to these bastards! For what? Probably so they could torture me, since my father wouldn’t give up the account information. I tried to pull back from him, a ceramic shard cutting into palm as I tried to scramble away, my captured leg still kicking.