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Nick had been relieved when Ronan sat Dec down and explained that he couldn’t keep bringing his hookups home with a baby in the house. Nick didn’t give a shit what Dec did on his own time, but he’d never loved the way his younger brother treated their home like a frat house. Dec should have the good manners to keep it off-site, like Ronan used to do on the rare occasion when he indulged before he’d met Julia.
Like Nick used to do before he’d met Alexa.
“What can I say?” Declan grinned. “Man cannot live on bread alone.”
Nick laughed and shook his head.
“Any idea when we’ll be back in business?” Declan asked.
“I’ve got someone digging around in the AG’s office,” Ronan said.
Nick’s head snapped up. “You do?”
Ronan studied the package of rice in his hand. “Yeah, trying to find out if they’ve dropped their investigation.”
Nick forced his voice steady. Alexa Nash was the Assistant AG assigned to investigate MIS. The first time they’d met was at MIS’ offices. She’d come to make it clear the Massachusetts Attorney General was launching an investigation into allegations that MIS’ professed goal of providing investigative services was a cover for a group of mercenaries — namely Nick and his brothers — who doled out a uniquely swift and brutal brand of justice when the law had failed.
The second time they’d met had been in the park at Copley Square. She’d been running, had smacked straight into a runaway dog that sent her ass first onto the pavement. He’d asked her for coffee even as every instinct in his body clanged like the warning system for a four-alarm fire.
He’d been fucked from the beginning, head-over-heels for her.
“Who do you have in the AG’s office?” Nick asked.
He hadn’t told his brothers about Alexa. The thought scared him shitless. There was no way they would — no way they could — be supportive. Nick was putting them all at risk.
And not just them: Julia, the one thing Ronan would find unforgivable.
The problem was Nick just couldn’t stop, couldn’t fight the way he felt every time he looked into Alexa Nash’s eyes, every time he saw the wall of strength she’d built to hide her pain.
“Remember that guy who lost all that money in the Ponzi scheme a few years back?” Ronan asked. “The one who hired us to address the issue?”
Nick had a flash of Jimmy Hawthorne: tall and lean, receding hair over a strong face and determined eyes, sloping shoulders betraying his exhaustion. He’d been close to retirement, had worked a shitty job for thirty years, contributing the max to his 401k. Then Charles Blaxton of Blaxton, Connor, and Price had stolen his money, all 1.5 million dollars of it.
Blaxton had been sent to a cushy minimum-security prison. He was out in three years while Jimmy Hawthorne and his wife — along with Blaxton’s other victims — took second jobs to rebuild their savings.
MIS had accepted the case pro bono.
“Hawthorne? What about him?” Nick asked.
“Turns out he has a friend at the AG’s office,” Ronan said. “Not high-level but enough to ask a few innocent questions, keep his ears to the ground.”
“So if he says we’re in the clear we’ll start taking clients again?” Declan asked.
Nick scowled. It’s not like Dec needed the money. None of them did, thanks to the astronomical fees they charged clients who could afford to pay them and the investments Nick made on their behalf.
Dec was restless, something Nick understood. Most of Nick’s work at the company involved dealing with the finances — he’d shown a surprising aptitude for money management, and Ronan’s background as a Navy SEAL made him a natural for the majority of the tactical work — but every now and then they needed everybody in the field. Those times were enough for Nick and Declan to work off the manic energy that built up under their skin. Without it, he and Dec were both at a loss.
Ronan had Julia and the baby to think about, but Nick’s weekly rugby games only did so much to burn off the energy he used to expend at MIS.
“We’ll get back to work when we know we’re clear.” Ronan removed a skillet from the cupboard and set it on the stove. “Just enjoy the time off.”
Declan sighed and headed for the door. “Thanks a lot.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Ronan asked when the door slammed behind Declan.
“He’s just tired of sitting on his ass,” Nick said. “And frankly, I can relate.”
Ronan met his eyes over the island. “Don’t get stupid, Nick.”
