Campaign of Desire (CSA Case Files 4) (9 page)

“Did you have time to talk to Taryn this morning?” Ethan asked, stepping away from Brent and Jacob. Lach had met them briefly yesterday, once Crest had chosen which guards from Gentry Security would be taking the rotating shifts. They seemed competent and the experience listed on their dossiers was certainly extensive. “The emails Dunaway and his staff are receiving are being pinged back to servers in practically every country. Taryn said she’s switching tactics in hopes she can locate the MAC address of the originating machine within twenty-four hours. Whoever is making these threats has extensive computer knowledge, enough to mask their IP traceroute and obscure the true originating server.”

“Yes, but I caught Taryn before her morning run.” Lach surveyed the lobby when two men in suits exited the elevators. “She wasn’t in a talkative mood.”

“You’ve got to catch her at five thirty,” Ethan informed him, shaking his head in amusement. “Taryn has her schedule down and if you mess with her she’ll hit you upside your head with one of her tentacles.”

Lach wasn’t in the mood to banter and nodded toward Brent and Jacob, changing the subject. “I spent most of the evening back at Dunaway’s campaign headquarters, going through the list of media personnel that will be in the bullpen today. The press conference is going to take place at ten o’clock this morning, although you’ll be with Kimmie at the college.”

“Anyone stand out?”

“No.” Lach shook his head and knew from the pounding in his temples that he hadn’t had enough coffee this morning. He only drank the java from the indie coffee shop down the street. Now they knew how to brew a cup of joe and it certainly wasn’t the sludge they made at the office. “The conference is going to take place outside in front of the campaign headquarters’ building with a reporter from every news outlet in attendance. Seems Dunaway has already taken the lead in the polls for his party.”

“Then the shit’s about to hit the fan.” Ethan lifted a Styrofoam cup to his mouth, taking a sip of the steaming coffee within. Lach couldn’t tell where it was from, but he felt envy deep in his stomach. “Every political reporter on either side of the fence will have something to say to get the public riled. What about
Daytime America
? Do you have that covered?”

“Yes, the station is sending a two-man crew out to interview Phoebe. It should be a milk run if I can keep the reporter from getting too artsy.” Lach, Ethan, and Connor all shared the same information on anyone in contact with their objectives. “Did you notice anything on the volunteer list?”

“Stewart Barnes and Hannah Ward.” Ethan nodded his head. “Stewart has a juvie record a mile long and his father, who happens to be a fellow senator of Dunaway’s, asked for his nineteen year old son to work on the campaign to keep him out of trouble. He’ll probably be smoking weed out back of the building by mid-morning. Just the kind of thing the press would love.”

“And Miss Ward’s father has been known to get his ass thrown in jail for protesting a little too irreverently on political issues. He doesn’t care if it’s left or right, either. Odd mix of politics, I guess.” Lach had already sent in his SITREP to the office last night with his comments, and he knew that by the end of today there would be a more thorough look into the two volunteers. “Kevin is tackling the Dunaway family’s personal friends, while Jax is looking into the other candidates and their immediate staff. I’m sure a lot of them will cross reference.”

“Everyone seems to be pulling double duty, between this protection detail and Ryland. It wouldn’t surprise me if Crest hired a few more prior servicemen and women to add to the agency’s depth. Our caseloads are getting to be a bit much.” Ethan turned and started walking toward Brent and Jacob. “Jax and Emily are planning Derrick’s first birthday party. It would be nice to have all the roadblocks cleared by then.”

“That’s two months away,” Lach replied, falling into step. “A lot can happen in that time frame.”

Lach acknowledged the two men and the day’s itineraries were covered on the ride up in the elevator. John was relieved of his duty and reported that the night had been quiet. He’d pulled a twelve-hour shift, but it was a one-time thing. Sam Grider was Phoebe’s second-shift guard and he started today. According to John, neither woman had departed. Lach lifted an arm and looked at his watch. Right on time. He knocked on the door and they waited for Phoebe or Kimmie to answer. He couldn’t prevent his jaw from locking up at the upcoming conversation. It was best to keep things short and sweet.

Footsteps could be heard and Lach instantly knew it was Phoebe from the rhythm of her steps. Kimmie’s tread was a little heavier and more erratic. He could tell from the pause that she’d looked through the peephole and it wasn’t long after that he heard the deadbolt release. He clenched his teeth the second the door swung open to reveal Phoebe wearing a conservative yet sexy as hell black and beige dress. The upcoming conversation would be short. Nothing sweet about it.

“Good morning,” Phoebe said, making eye contact with each one of them. Lach felt a rush of conquest when her blue eyes darkened upon meeting his gaze but he quickly squelched it. “Please come in. Kimmie is almost ready and I’ve got coffee if you’d like some.”

“I’ll take a refill, thank you.” Ethan entered first, following behind Phoebe and preventing Lach from watching her hips sway. It was for the best. “Kimmie has a full schedule, but do you know if she’ll be spending another night with you?”

“No, she’ll head back to her apartment closer to campus.” Phoebe gracefully entered the kitchen while both men walked around to the front of the island. Brent and Jacob remained outside. Lach continued standing while Ethan propped himself on the stool and held out his cup to Phoebe. “Do you take it black?”

“Yes, please.”

They all turned at the sound of Kimmie entering the kitchen. Lach knew she’d exited from the spare bedroom, as he’d searched the layout of Phoebe’s apartment yesterday. Kimmie was wearing another old St. Thomas sweatshirt with designer jeans and her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She looked younger than her twenty-four years and her carefree attitude was refreshing, but not under these circumstances. Ethan would have his hands full.

“Good morning.” Kimmie went behind Phoebe and reached up into one of the cupboards, bringing down a travel mug. She twisted the lid off and held it up for some coffee. Phoebe poured the steaming liquid into both Kimmie’s cup and then into Ethan’s Styrofoam. “Ethan, try to remind me to bring back the other dozen coffee mugs I’ve borrowed from poor Phoebe. Also, I need to make a stop at my apartment on the way to campus. I have some notes I need for my first class.”

“If you want a personal assistant, hire one. That’s not my job. Speaking of which, I need you to come with me and meet Jacob. He’ll be close by, probably sitting in the back of the rooms where you’ll be. I don’t want to hear a complaint about either.” Ethan stood and then patted Lach’s shoulder as he passed by and headed for the door. “Phoebe, thank you for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.” Phoebe had grabbed a ceramic coffee mug and poured the rest of the contents of the pot into it. It was obvious that she and Lach were staying behind to have their conversation. “Kimmie, be careful and please listen to what they say.”

“It’ll be a joy, I’m sure. Ethan obviously woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Anyway, I’m not the one going on live television today.” Kimmie breezed through the kitchen and met up with Ethan at the door, snatching up her tote by the side table. “So how’s Fallon today?”

Lach missed Ethan’s comment as the two departed, closing the door behind them. Was Kimmie referring to Fallon Canna, a profiler for the FBI? He’d have to ask Ethan about it later. Maybe Ethan was having Fallon run up a profile on their person of interest. It wasn’t a bad idea, although Lach wouldn’t have thought they had enough evidence to hand over. A few emails and letters made it hard to pinpoint a motive.

“Why did you say yes when my father came to you?”

Lach looked over the coffee mug that had been placed in front of him on the countertop to see Phoebe standing there looking like the most delicious breakfast a man could have. Her blonde hair was fuller than usual while her long bangs brushed lightly across her forehead. The pink shade he was coming to like on her lips glistened as one of the lights in the kitchen seemed to spotlight them just for him. He reached for his coffee instead.

“I wasn’t given a choice.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Phoebe didn’t move from where she was standing and he got the feeling she liked having a barrier in between them. “You seem like a man who does what he wants, when he wants.”

Phoebe’s cheeks flushed and Lach knew she was remembering their time in Iraq. It seemed to stir a bit of anger as she turned with the pot in her hand and shoved it on the burner with a little too much force. She turned back around to face him, leaning her back against the opposite counter.

“Your father asked Crest for security, not me. He got it.” Lach tasted his coffee and was pleased to know she knew how to make a damned good one. “It’s that simple.”

“It’s not that simple. We have a past of sorts and that could get in the way of you doing your job professionally.” Phoebe took a deep breath, as she must have realized she’d just questioned his competency and he didn’t like that. Not at all, but he refrained from speaking. This was a conversation she wanted. She could have it, but he didn’t need to defend his skills. “What I mean is do you really want to be uncomfortable for however long this might go on?”

“You made your position quite clear.” Lach took another drink, not breaking eye contact. She was fucking gorgeous. He’d had enough of this circumventing the core of her unease. “We slept together. You didn’t want it to continue. End of story. I’ll do my job. You just concentrate on doing yours, obey my instructions when it comes to security, and we’ll get along just fine.”

Phoebe looked as if she wanted to say something more, but bit the side of her mouth instead. He could tell from the way her right cheek hollowed just so. It reminded Lach of when she’d had him inside of her mouth. He felt blood rush through him and he shifted his stance.

“That isn’t exactly the way I remember it.” Phoebe took a step forward, her hands fisted at her side. “Yes, we slept together, but it was you who took it casually and made reference to the fact that it was a one-time thing.
It is what it is
. I just followed up with what you didn’t. You can’t blame me for the way the facts turned out.”

Lach tightened his grip on the mug, wanting to keep going down this path she was obviously set on pursuing but knowing it was pointless. What exactly was a man to say to a woman after they’d joined together in such a spontaneous act, one that had taken both of them by surprise? If she misunderstood his words as him saying he wouldn’t do it again, she was mistaken. The sad part was that now it didn’t really matter.

There was no reason to tell Phoebe that he’d spent day after day thinking of her and wishing she’d wanted to continue what they’d started. They were both adults and both knew that not all relationships were meant to lead into something more. Regardless, he would have enjoyed spending more time with her, getting to know her. To realize she’d taken his statement wrong twisted his gut, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

“Regardless if there was a miscommunication, it’s OBE.” Lach finished his coffee and set the ceramic mug down with a thud. He didn’t let on that he’d used that action to stop himself from reaching out to her. If she knew what he really liked to do in his spare time, he had no doubt she’d reiterate her claim that he didn’t fit into her life. She was too refined and contemptuous to ever think his sexual inclinations were up to her standards. Looking back, maybe the way things had ended was for the best. When he saw her confusion to the acronym he’d used, he clarified. “OBE—overcome by events. I gave Crest my word that this would remain professional, and contrary to your belief, that’s exactly what I am. That seals this arrangement with a big red bow. Now that we’ve discussed
terms
, we need to leave. You need time to prepare for the press conference and I have some security details to work out with the crew.”

Lach walked around the small wall, not stopping until he reached the coat rack and pulled off her long dress coat. Turning around, he found her standing in the opening with her hands on her hips. The frown that marred her face did nothing to detract from her beauty, and if anything reminded him of her tortured sensual expression when she came. It was definitely time for them to vacate.

“Wait a minute. Are you telling me that Gavin Crest knows we slept together?”

“Absolutely.” Lach held up her coat, indicating they needed to leave. Phoebe stubbornly stayed in place. “Complete disclosure is essential is my line of work.”

“Complete disclosure?”

“We really need to go.” Lach didn’t understand why his candor needed further explaining. There were a lot of pros to being direct. He wasn’t seeing them right now, but he knew he was right. “I want to be at campaign headquarters before the three ring media circus descends.”

“What do you mean you
gave your word this would remain professional
?” Phoebe had tried to mimic his voice and failed miserably. Had this not been such a complicated, serious, and downright fucked up conversation, he would have shown her his lighter side. He did have one, but this was no place for it. “You told him you weren’t going to have sex with me?”

Lach realized from the moment Phoebe phrased her last question that they weren’t leaving within the next minute. He hung her coat over his arm and planted his boots more firmly on the marble, getting comfortable. If she needed things spelled out, he’d do just that.

“One, we obviously had a miscommunication back in Iraq.” Lach saw that her eyes were focused on his hand, in which he was using his fingers to count his bullet points. “Two, we now have a professional relationship. Three, I gave my word to Crest that our past wouldn’t interfere. I’m not seeing where the confusion is.”