Chapter 24
Momentary relief flashed across Charles Ashworth's face when Nash and Jason returned to Emil's study. He'd probably worried no one was coming back to uncuff him from Emil's corpse.
When Lena's father registered Nash's cold glare, the relief evaporated. Replaced by beet-red fury.
"You can't keep me here! You have no right to hold me against my will! Do you know who I am? You'll regret this! I promise you that!"
Nash wondered if Charles was promising he would regret killing Emil or cuffing him to Emil. He suspected it was the latter.
Jason stood at his side, hands on his hips, and lifted his chin toward Nash. "You want to explain things to him? Or do you want me—"
"I'll do it."
Nash leveled a cold glare at Charles Ashworth, tamping down all the emotions the man's indignant scowl elicited. He wanted to hit something. Or someone. But that wouldn't be professional.
"We know who you are, Mr. Ashworth. And you're correct. We can't hold you here. Not for long, anyway. But I'm going to explain two things to you before we release you."
Charles gritted his teeth, a large vein pulsing on the side of his neck.
Nash held up his phone. "I have your entire conversation with Emil recorded, and copies were sent to the authorities in Houston a few minutes ago, so save yourself any effort to cover your tracks in the theft of the jewels."
A disturbing grin crept across Charles Ashworth's face. "I have excellent lawyers, whoever you are. Nice try, but you're out of your league."
The man has no idea. Nash cleared his throat, refusing to argue. "The second thing I have to tell you—not that you asked—is that your daughter, Lena, is safe at The Mandeville Hotel now."
A hint of remorse played on Charles's face, but soon evaporated. "I don't know what she's doing here. If you're trying to use her against me—"
"No one is using your daughter." Nash growled the words.
"She came here looking for Cassidy. She doesn't know you're here.
She doesn't know you're even involved . .
. yet." He pocketed his phone. And held up two fingers.
"You have two choices. I can take you to her now, and you can explain your involvement, or I can explain it to her. "
Charles's eyebrows hiked up. "Why do you care what Lena knows? Leave her out of this."
"Your choice."
Confusion etched deep furrows on Charles's forehead. "I don't know why it matters to you. But I'm not going to let you turn her against me. Take me to her. I'll explain. Then I'm going to the airport."
"Don't worry. We'll make sure you get on a flight tonight.
" Even if WhiteRock had to arrange a private charter, which was likely at this late hour, they wanted Charles on a plane to Houston before he realized how much trouble he was in.
Nash didn't lie. He told him he'd sent the recording to the authorities.
But reality hadn't set in. Charles's faith in his lawyers was too strong.
The doorbell rang.
"Who is that?" Charles asked, his voice louder than necessary. What little patience he'd started with was long gone.
"Local police," Jason answered. He pointed to Charles's late partner in crime. "They're here for Emil."
Charles poised, looking like he intended to sprint for his life.
Nash held up both hands. "They're not here for you. We've explained things."
"You did it! You shot him!" Charles shouted.
Nash didn't flinch. "They know."
"You don't need to yell, Mr. Ashworth. We'll be leaving soon." Jason turned to Nash. "I'll let the police in."
Nash nodded, and Jason left the room.
"At least take these cuffs off! Get me away from him! Are you insane, cuffing me to a dead body?"
Nash bit back his response. But he did remove the handcuffs.
The police arrived, took statements, loaded Emil's body, and left.
All in about ten minutes. Which was ridiculous, but Nash wasn't surprised.
This small, non-extradition island country was run by the wealthy resort owners—not the puppet government.
And the wealthiest resort owner was Drakos, who happened to feel indebted to WhiteRock for their help on previous occasions.
So, even though Nash should have been questioned more, Drakos wasn't going to allow the police to give him any trouble.
Ed Chester, however, would face charges.
As well as Frank, Manny, and Delphine. Nash wasn't sure how competent the local judicial system was, but the two murders, fire, and theft of the jewels from Emil's house all took place on Isadora Island.
There were no grounds to get any outside authorities involved.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, for Charles Ashworth, the theft he committed took place in Houston, in addition to the crimes he likely committed in his business, according to Lena. So, he would be unleashing his expensive lawyers on the American justice system. Nash didn't envy any of them.
When they arrived at The Mandeville, Jason waited in WhiteRock's conference room with Charles while Nash headed to Lena's room.
He dreaded the conversation ahead of him. There was no easy way to tell her.
Acid pooled in his stomach.
God, give me some wisdom here. Give me the best words to say. And please protect Lena from as much pain as possible.
He knocked once, and her door flew open. She held Nutmeg with a sweet smile on her face.
He hated that he was about to make that smile disappear.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
He walked in and shut the door behind him. She'd showered and changed into a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt. Her damp hair and freshly washed face made her look younger somehow. And more innocent. And beautiful.
None of which helped him form the words he needed.
Best to just get it over with. Like ripping off a bandage. Or duct tape. Right?
"Lena, I haven't had a chance to tell you everything that happened between the time you left Emil's house and when I arrived at the cottage."
She tilted her head. "Okay? What did I miss?"
Nutmeg squirmed in her arms, so she set him on the floor. She stared at him for a couple of seconds while he made one last attempt to find the best words. "Nash, you look worried. Just tell me. What happened?"
"The first thing I should tell you is that Emil is dead. He pulled a gun on me. I had to shoot him."
Her mouth fell open. "Dead? You had to . . . " Her hand flew to her chest. "Wow . . . I can't . . . Oh, Nash, I'm sorry you had to do that. I'm so, so sorry."
Her concern for him . . . for him . . . was so genuine. She wasn't angry. Or scared of him. Or judgmental. She understood.
He seriously might be falling in love with this woman. But now wasn't the time to tell her that.
Her eyes narrowed at him. "You said, 'the first thing.' What else do you need to tell me?"
He took a deep breath and tried to deliver the news as gently as possible. "After you and Cassidy left, your father showed up at Emil's."
Confusion contorted her face. "My dad? How . . . Are you sure?"
"Yes, it was him. He's here. At The Mandeville. He's waiting with Jason in our conference room."
"He's here? Why? I don't understand."
"I know. He's flying back to Houston tonight, but he wanted to talk to you first. Okay?"
Her brows creased. "Okay, but I don't get it. What is he doing here? He hates Emil. Or hated. Or . . . whatever. I just don't understand."
"I told him he could explain. You want to talk to him?"
She nodded. "Yes, yes, of course."
On the way to the conference room, Nash worried he hadn't prepared Lena enough for her father's news.
But he'd promised he would let Charles give his side of the story first. Not because he thought much of Charles.
But . . . if he hoped for a relationship with Lena—and he absolutely did—he needed to offer her father some morsel of respect. Whether or not he deserved it.
When they reached the conference room, Lena walked in, and Jason and Knox joined Nash in the hallway to give Charles and Lena a few minutes of privacy.
The minutes crawled by. Jason and Knox leaned against the wall. Nash paced.
Finally, Charles stepped into the hallway. "One of you driving me to the airport? Or should I take a cab?"
The condescending tone irked Nash, but he kept his mouth shut.
"Knox and I will take you," Jason said. "Let's go."
Jason and Knox led Charles to the elevators.
Nash was glad he wouldn't have to deal with Charles anymore that night. The future was another story. But tonight, he could just focus on Lena.
He entered the conference room and found her standing on the balcony. Arms wrapped around her waist.
He eased open the sliding glass door and joined her in the salty breeze, overlooking swaying palms and lapping waves glistening in the moonlight.
He wished their reality held as much serenity as their ocean view.
Lena's expression was unreadable. Her eyes acknowledged his presence, but she didn't speak. Didn't move.
The silence between them grew heavy. He wanted Lena to speak first, but as the seconds dragged on, he feared she would never talk. Or that she would ask him to leave.
When she finally broke the silence, her voice was stronger than he expected. "He threw Emil under the bus. And he didn't have anything nice to say about you. He blamed everyone else for the rumors he said I will hear when I get back to Houston. And that he's innocent, of course."
She turned to face Nash, her gaze blazing. "And he was one hundred percent lying."