Page 21 of Shattering Nash

“I’m not following. You just said there was no arrest.”

“Right.” Cyrus spread his hands and shrugged. “But dispatch sent it out as a possible domestic disturbance. It’s unusual. A call for domestic and no arrest? I wanted to dig more but figured I’d ask you first.”

Anytime they dug deeper for a complete report, they took a risk of it being traced back to them. They had plenty of people on the payroll but having an electronic footprint leading back to the Underground couldn’t easily vanish. They were careful and cautious protecting the organization at all costs. Something like a hunch wouldn’t get approval. However, Cyrus was a trusted and highly intelligent member of security.

“My mom” —Cyrus cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. His tone was off— “She used to get roughed up a lot by her old man. He had a thing for choking. It’d leave these nastypurple welts on her neck.” Cyrus’s jaw squared as if trying to keep his anger in check. “She always wore a scarf to cover it up.”

Fuck.

The Underground was a private realm as were the members. There wasn’t much known about people’s pasts unless they talked of it. Most men didn’t share. Nash grasped Cyrus’s shoulder in a tight squeeze. Cyrus wasn’t looking for a therapy session, and Nash wouldn’t give one. But he appreciated his openness and bringing light to Charley’s possible situation.

A domestic involving Charley? The idea of anyone harming her sent an unnatural burning rage through his blood. By all outward appearances, Charley was one of the most defenseless women he’d ever encountered.

“Send me everything you got. I’ll handle it.”

“There isn’t much, Nash. That what makes it all the more suspicious.”

“Send it now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nash walked into his office, closed the door, and stood in silence. He only had a second to contemplate the information. His phone pinged. Cyrus sent the information in an untraceable folder. Nash wasted no time. He moved to his desk and powered up his computer, pulling up the file.

Cyrus wasn’t lying. There wasn’t much information. No report from the officers on site. No documents of interviews with the residents. There was nothing except for the initial call to 9-1-1 and dispatch sending out a unit to the home. He played the 9-1-1 call over and over. The caller never gave the names of the occupants of the house, but at one point she described them as siblings. Nash settled back in his chair.

“Something is fucking off,” he muttered, contemplating his next move. He didn’t have much to go on, but the gnawing in his chest wouldn’t allow him to dismiss his concern.

Nash leaned over, opened his drawer, and pulled out a new burner phone. He tapped in the message and hit send. Usually, he waited on approval to move forward, but Nash was making the decision himself. This was a trusted contact who would be able to get the information he needed. It was imperative he keep Oz in the loop.

Nash walked down to Oz’s office, knocked on the door, and scanned the room. Oz was in the seating area with Sal. Both men had drinks on the table and cigars in their hands.

“Am I interrupting?” Nash asked from the doorway.

As far as he knew, no official business was being conducted with Sal. He’d been out of the organization for years. But he had a very tight bond with Oz, and Nash didn’t want to walk in on a personal conversation.

Oz waved him over, and Nash stopped near the edge of the couch.

Sal pointed to the open chair. “Have a seat, Nash. Share a cigar with us. Oz has got the good stuff.”

Nash held up his hand. “I appreciate the offer, sir. I’m good.”

Sal shook his head, snickering before turning to Oz. “Been telling this boy for years to drop the sir, and he won’t do it.”

It was true. Nash had an immense amount of respect for Sal. It was his way of showing it. To call him by his name would insinuate they were on the same level. They weren’t and never would be. Sal had built the Underground from nothing. Nash counted himself lucky and honored to be a part of it. Who knows where he would’ve ended up had he not joined the organization.

Sal leaned over, reached in the box, and pulled out a cigar. “How about it, Nash?”

“He doesn’t smoke,” Oz said, taking a puff from his cigar.

“No?” Sal knitted his brows. “No cigarettes either?”

“No, sir.”

Sal smiled, settling in his seat. “Just like Trey. Same demeanor too. Always thought you two boys were a lot alike.”

Similar but not the same. Trey was a king in the Underground. Nash was not.

Sal cocked his brow. “That’s why Inez has always been so goddamn pissy about you. Didn’t think it was right that Oz got you and Trey. For as crazy as that woman is, she could see the value in having balance amongst the chaos. Can’t blame her for wanting to hold on to you.” Sal shook his head. “She ever forgive you for choosing our side?”

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