“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes. “Husband’s orders.”

Nash nodded and widened the door for her. But Elodie stopped in front of him.

“I need a favor.”

“Anything.”

Elodie scanned the parking lot. “I need to make sure that Charley and her friend have a good time on Friday, but more importantly, they’re safe. I’d come in myself, but I don’t think Oz would go for that.”

No, he wouldn’t.

“I’ll keep eyes on them.”

“Thanks.” Elodie squeezed his arm and walked to her car, followed by Ridge.

Nash watched until she was safely in the car, then walked into the club, heading upstairs.

He made a mental note of adding a specific security detail to Charley and her guest. The X-Lounge was fairly safe.

They’d always taken extra precautions. The last thing they needed was any type of scandal bringing attention to the already popular club.

As an extra measure of safety, he’d personally look after them.

When Nash exited the elevator and started down the hall, Cyrus fell in line with him.

“Nash, you got a minute?”

Nash turned around at the entrance to his office.

“What do you need?”

“Caine assigned me the task of observing the police logs.”

Nash nodded. He’d approved it a few months ago.

It was a menial task but important nonetheless.

Cyrus would check the weekly jail intake logs.

Any and all arrests were documented. It was easy to keep track of associates, especially low level, who may have been picked up.

There were a multitude of reasons. If they could be traced to the Underground, then they posed a risk, and if needed, they’d intervene.

Others could be considered an asset if they went to prison and stayed loyal to the Underground.

“Have you found something? Or should I say, someone?”

Cyrus furrowed his brows. “Not exactly, but the list from earlier this week is still fresh in my mind. When Elle’s employee said her name, I recognized it. Hudson is fairly common, so I pulled up the log again just to confirm and compare the address. It’s the same.”

What?

Nash’s brows shot up. “Charley was arrested?”

“There was no arrest. A neighbor called in a disturbance at her residence where she lives with her brother, Cody.”

Formerly lived with her brother. Nash hadn’t been eavesdropping necessarily, but he’d heard that tidbit of information. Charley said her brother had moved out of state, though she didn’t specify exactly when he’d left.

Nash folded his arms. “Go on.”

Cyrus drew in a breath. “I might be reading into this. But when I heard Elle say something about never seeing her in a scarf, it triggered something in my head.”

Nash was having a hard time following this conversation.

The scarf was a trigger? Nash had never seen her wearing one.

It seemed odd the scarf was playing a pivotal role in everyone’s thoughts tonight.

Even Nash had been slightly thrown off. It certainly didn’t match her attire, nor did she seem comfortable in it. He noticed her adjust it a few times.

“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 nasty purple 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?”

Nash’s lips twitched. “Not yet, sir.”

Sal burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Not many appreciate it, and most men fear it, but I do love that woman’s spirit.”

“Is there an issue?” Oz asked.

He didn’t have the report with him. He didn’t need it. Oz could trust his word.

“Possibly.” Nash paused. “We have a delicate situation.”

Oz raised his brows, and Nash continued.

“Cyrus brought it to my attention. He was reviewing the police logs. A unit was sent to the home of one of Elle’s employees.”

“Who?” Oz asked.

“Charley Hudson.”

Sal turned in his chair. “The pretty, blue-eyed girl on the balcony?”

Nash nodded, and Sal smirked. “So you agree she’s pretty?”

Nash flattened his lips and didn’t respond. Pretty was an understatement, but Nash wouldn’t argue. Sal was known for teasing all the men, but Nash wasn’t about to walk into the trap with Oz watching.

“As you were saying, Charley?” Oz said.

“A 9-1-1 call was made by a neighbor reporting a disturbance. Possible domestic.”

Oz’s eyes darkened. “What does the report say?”

“There is no report.”

Sal knitted his brows, taking a drag from the cigar. “For a possible domestic? Isn’t it protocol to make an arrest in that situation?”

“Yes,” Oz answered before Nash, and his tone was laced with suspicion. They were on the same page. “You have a contact?”

Nash nodded. “Already left a message. Just waiting to hear back. Considering how close she is with Elle, I assumed you’d want this looked into right away.”

Oz slowly nodded, keeping his gaze locked on Nash. “I do.”

“I was thinking of asking Elle if Charley had mentioned anything, and...”

Oz didn’t let him finish.

“No,” Oz snapped, pointing at Nash, making himself clear. “This doesn’t involve her.”

It wasn’t Nash’s place to dispute Oz, though he was sure Elodie would disagree. But Oz was territorial and overprotective of Elodie. As her pregnancy prolonged, it only grew deeper. No precaution was spared when it came to the Queen of the Underground and her well-being.