CSA Case Files: Campaign of Desire Part 4

Chapter Nine.

Masters was in full swing as Lach walked through the entrance from the public reception room and into the members' only area, which separated the lounge from the velvet roped play areas. The pulsating Latin music that came over the speakers was just high enough to add to the atmosphere yet low enough that conversation could still be had comfortably. It was vital for the submissives to hear and understand what their Dominants were instructing them to do, as well as allowing the Doms to hear the pleas and cues of their subs. If a sub called out their safeword, play would immediately stop or the designated dungeon monitor would instantly pull the malefactor aside. He allowed the citrus orange fragrance along with the smell of leather to mingle and mix with his senses, giving him an awareness that he craved. Unfortunately, it did little for his c.r.a.ppy mood.

Lach didn't feel his muscles relax with the familiar change of atmosphere like they usually did, yet he still strolled across the floor to the bar in the members' lounge. He would salvage the rest of the night, even if it meant not partic.i.p.ating this evening. A good stiff drink was what he needed.

The only hitch that might have kept Lach and Ethan from attending the club tonight had been if they hadn't been allowed to have access to their phones. The policy of Masters was that cells were kept in the coatroom in the foyer, thus protecting the clientele from capturing anything on audio or video that could be used as blackmail. Connor had already cleared them to carry their phones due to the importance of the case they were working on.

"Did you tuck in your girl?" Jax asked from his position behind the bar. Lach looked around but didn't see Eden, the latest bartender. She might end up being a keeper the way she whipped up some of her drinks and treated the customers. She would have been better to have on the other side of the bar. Jax would just rib him until he was raw, causing Lach to say something he'd regret. "Ethan called and wanted you to know that his primary decided to attend a party."

Lach shook his head in sympathy, knowing Ethan wouldn't allow the night s.h.i.+ft PSD to deal with that alone. There were too many unknowns and unsecure situations that could occur. Lach would have been better off had he'd been a.s.signed to Kimmie. At least he knew what to expect with the younger woman. Phoebe had already changed personalities on him twice. This third time when he'd seen her safely tucked inside her apartment this evening had been just too d.a.m.n much. What the h.e.l.l did she mean by saying they should continue what they'd started in Iraq?

"Lach, would you come in for a moment?" Phoebe asked as they were walking down the hallway. Sam had gone ahead of them, letting himself in to start clearing her apartment. He was now situated in front of her door. "I'd like to discuss something with you."

"About the case?"

"No." Phoebe's pause said all there was to say, yet she continued and confirmed why Lach had been feeling so uneasy all day. "It's about us."

"We've already been over that."

"And I think we need to readdress our conversation," Phoebe said in a low tone. They were four feet from where Sam was stationed when she'd stopped and forced him to do the same, facing her. "You said so yourself. We had a miscommunication back in Iraq."

"It doesn't matter what happened in Iraq." Lach didn't like that they were standing in the hallway having this conversation, but he wasn't about to enter her apartment and be tempted to take her up on what she was offering. "Our present situation has already dictated how we are going to proceed."

"Again, I think we should change that. I want to change it."

"Sucks for him," Lach said, brus.h.i.+ng off the memory. He tried to act casual and make light conversation, while dragging his thoughts away from what had happened not thirty minutes prior. He leaned against the wooden counter of the bar, motioning toward his bottle of XXV single malt Glenlivet scotch whiskey that they kept behind the bar for his particular tastes. "Hit me up."

"You're not playing tonight?" Jax reached for a rocks gla.s.s, dropped in a freshly chilled stone, and pulled the cork stopper. As per the club rules, there was always a two drink maximum per client if he or she were going to play. Lach, however, had made it a personal directive not to drink at all if he was going to partic.i.p.ate in the activities here at the club and Jax knew it. As the gla.s.s received his usual two fingers, Lach didn't even bother to look and see who was partic.i.p.ating. Recalling Phoebe's parting words as he made sure she was safely ensconced in her apartment, Sam situated outside her door, had his mood deteriorating rapidly. "Casey has been asking about you."

"She's too f.u.c.king timid." Lach preferred a submissive who knew what she wanted and was accepting of her s.e.xuality. Sh.e.l.ley was a prime example of knowing and accepting. Flint had his wife bound to the St. Andrew's cross and was slowly working her over with a flogger. Her shoulders were held back with pride, yet with just a glance over his shoulder, he could see from across the room that she was trembling with arousal. Brie was the same way, and as Nick utilized the suspension beam, her eyes were s.h.i.+ning as she was tied and bound beautifully in s.h.i.+bari. "I was hoping Lindsay would be here."

"Really?" Jax sat the short heavy gla.s.s in front of Lach and then leaned against the counter. Lach had no idea why he'd thrown out Lindsay's name, but now he could just kick himself in the a.s.s. Phoebe had messed with his mind and he wasn't in the mood to be here. The only reason he'd shown up was because he'd told Ethan he would and had hoped that being here would set his head on straight. Now that his friend was stuck at work, that meant he could slam the expensive scotch and leave. "She doesn't strike me as your type."

"How's Emily and Derrick?" Lach asked, changing the subject and giving himself the time to finish his drink. A soft cry could be heard from across the room, along with the soothing yet stern tones of the sub's Dom, but Lach continued to lead Jax into another direction. "I'm surprised you're here tonight."

Lach didn't want to get into what type of woman he preferred, especially since he couldn't get a certain blonde off of his mind. Instead he'd get Jax to talk about his family. As Jax filled him in on Eden calling in sick and continued to discuss his son's first steps along with droning on about baby teeth and sleep schedules, Lach glanced around the area one more time. The semi-private sitting areas of the commons that were separated by plants and ferns were being occupied by the regular clientele, as were nearly all of the play stations. He reminded himself this was what he was comfortable with, not some formal social setting where he'd be made to wear a tie like some kind of noose. That thought caught him off guard and it wasn't until he heard his name repeated that he realized Jax had asked him a question.

"I hate when you do that."

"Do what?" Lach asked before he took a sip of the amber liquid, sucking it into his mouth and closing his eyes to savor the rich release of spices that developed into a dark chocolate, hinting of orange peel essence. He then took a large swallow, much to his shame. The faster he got it down, the quicker he got to leave.

"Ask a question so that someone else talks." Jax pushed up off of the bar top and grabbed a hand towel. "It's a d.i.c.k move."

"It works." Lach flashed a quick smile, not feeling guilty in the least. It suddenly hit him that Jax had dealt with a similar issue with Emily. His wife had come back into his life, changing his everyday reality. Lach contemplated running his issues with Phoebe by him, but then decided against it. They were friends, but they weren't close like Jax was with Connor. h.e.l.l, after Lach's cl.u.s.terf.u.c.k with his previous job, he'd disconnected all ties to any friends he'd had back then. All of these memories being dug up were because of Phoebe and he just didn't have time for any of it. "I appreciate the whiskey, but I've got some files to go over."

"Kevin's SITREP?"

"Yes." Lach took that out, knowing full well that Kevin had turned in his interview with Victor Ward. Jax didn't know that Lach had already read it thoroughly and that Victor had made it clear he was only driving by to check up on his daughter. Lach wasn't so sure that was the case, but Kevin reported that there was no evidence against his claim. "Give Emily a kiss for me."

"Over my dead body," Jax said good-naturedly. Lach did appreciate that his team members didn't push him too hard to join in their social group, giving him time to acclimate to the new agency. CSA was a h.e.l.l of a lot different than the FBI and Lach respected the military brother and sisterhood they'd recreated as opposed to the inst.i.tution that was the FBI. "Well, you'll find my SITREP in your box as well. It's rather remarkable, but the interested parties came up negative."

Lach hadn't seen Jax's report and he now felt a pressing need to go review it. It gave him something to do besides thinking of Phoebe. It wasn't like he and Jax would discuss a case of such importance in front of civilians, but his words indicated that he'd found something noteworthy. Before Lach could turn to go, his phone vibrated.

"I've got a call coming in."

Lach didn't need to say anything more. Jax knew that he wouldn't take the call inside the club. He slapped the counter and then turned, walking through the crowd that was gathering. He ignored the mewing submissives that tried to capture his attention and finally made it out to the reception area where it was safe to pull out his phone. A text displayed across the screen that included Phoebe's codename and the message made his chest tighten, regardless of the rea.s.surance attached to the sentence.

Heart leaving apartment. Heading back to campaign headquarters. I've got her six. No need for backup.

"What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?"

Phoebe looked up from the results of today's polls and saw Lach standing in front of her father's desk, his jaw tightened to the point the muscle was actually ticking. He actually thought he had the right to be mad? She had put herself out on display, giving him the opportunity to take up where they'd left off after their so-called miscommunication, and he'd turned her down flat.

"I'm working, not that it should concern you. Sam is more than capable of doing his job." Phoebe leaned back in her father's leather chair, trying to appear composed and hiding the hurt she felt for the second time in three months. There wouldn't be a third. "You wouldn't have approved of him otherwise."

"I know Sam's credentials, Phoebe." Lach leaned down and placed his palms flat on the desk, his dark brown eyes almost black with fury. "I thought it was understood that when you are not in your apartment I am to be within sight of you. You are my primary. Get used to it."

Phoebe's anger boiled over and she was out of the chair before Lach was able to pull himself into a standing position. She s.n.a.t.c.hed up her purse that was sitting on the floor beside the desk and kept walking, not bothering to shut off the office light. She heard him call out to her, but she maneuvered her way through the desks and out the front door, Sam on her heels. Paul and a few other paid employees had been on the far side of the room, going over agendas for the next few months. She wouldn't give Paul any more ammunition when it came to her personal life and if he thought for a second that she and Lach had something more than a professional relations.h.i.+p, G.o.d knew how he'd use that against her. He didn't like that her father valued her opinion but that was just tough s.h.i.+t for him to deal with.

Due to the late hour, Phoebe had been able to park her vehicle right out front. She pressed the b.u.t.ton on the fob knowing full well that Sam was parked right behind her. He'd follow her home and they'd go about their evening as if nothing had happened. Before she could open the driver's side door, Lach grabbed her arm and swung her toward him.

"I'll ask again. What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?"

"I refuse to discuss our personal life with Paul and the staff within earshot." Phoebe pulled her arm away from his grasp, but wasn't able to step back as far as she would have liked. The car kept her in place while his body protected her from the oncoming traffic. It was a good reminder of why he was here to begin with. "Oh, that's right. We don't have a personal relations.h.i.+p. You made that perfectly clear. But let's get one thing straight, Mr. McKinnon-you don't get to set the rules. If I want to work through the night, I'll d.a.m.n well do it. If I want to sleep here, I'll do that as well. I don't have to ask permission, and if you feel you're incapable of keeping up with me, please feel free to request a transfer. It wouldn't bother me in the least."

"You are f.u.c.king impossible," Lach muttered, holding her dress coat up and not saying another word until she'd turned, allowing him to help her in it. As she was facing the building it was easy to see Paul and the other staff looking out at them, as their bodies were within the dim lights of the desks. When the wool finally encased Phoebe, she whipped back around and saw that it wasn't anger in his eyes, but frustration. It didn't make a difference to her. "If we were in any other situation, I would have taken you up on your offer and had you back in bed before your front door was able to close shut. And to clear up any misconceptions, I would be setting the rules. You are the daughter of a Presidential nominee. I am your personal security detail agent in charge. There are rules and guidelines in place for a reason. For someone of your intelligence, I shouldn't have to spell that out for you."

"Lach," Phoebe said, looking to her left and seeing Sam in the driver's seat of his car waiting patiently before reconnecting her gaze to the larger than life man in front of her. "Someone else can-"

"That's where you're wrong, Phoebe." Lach looked over her shoulder and took a half step back. She didn't have to ask why. "No one else would be good enough. No one else would go to the lengths that I would to save your life."

Phoebe didn't know how to respond to that and suddenly felt deflated because she knew deep down that Lach was right. The last thing her father needed was headlines that his oldest daughter was having an affair with her bodyguard. She'd gotten carried away by the feeling of liberation upon discovering that she hadn't imagined their connection ten months ago and acted impetuously. As for his statement that no one would go to the lengths that he would, a part of her soul felt a heat that it had never been exposed to before. It was bittersweet.

"Does anyone really need to know?" Phoebe asked, not able to just let this end but asking a question that she already knew that answer to. She deserved some happiness too. Hadn't she been telling her sister that all along? "We're both adults and what we do on our own should be our own business."

"From this day forward, you will be front and center in the media. The majority of the news reporters are camped at your family home." Lach nodded his head in the direction to his left. "One is down the street, snapping photos as we stand here. All they see is your detail discussing something with you. That's the way it needs to stay, because if you were truly mine, you wouldn't remain hidden. I'm not the kind of man who sneaks around, Phoebe, and it's wrong of you to ask me to violate my word."

"So nothing changes," Phoebe whispered dejectedly, tilting her chin up like she did when she was in public to show her courage and adding on a small smile though it felt as if her face were cracking. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was to fool the public. The paparazzi wouldn't be able to misconstrue what was actually taking place. "We just carry on as if this...attraction...is meaningless."

"Yes. It's in the best interests of everyone involved."

Lach motioned toward the car with his hand, indicating that she should step aside. Doing so, Phoebe watched as he pulled on the handle and opened the door. He patiently waited while she tossed her purse into the pa.s.senger area on the far side, but she didn't settle herself into the driver's seat. Instead, she faced him one more time and made sure that she didn't hold back any emotions that she knew were s.h.i.+ning within her eyes. She laid everything out on the line.

"I have always put everyone else ahead of me. I've practically raised my sister, promoted and nurtured my mother's foundation, and now I'm putting my life on hold to support my father's dreams." Phoebe had to stop and take a deep breath, ignoring the small stutter in her inhalation. It had nothing to do with the cold air. "I hope to G.o.d, for your sake, that when the time comes that I can actually live for myself that you're ready for me, Agent In Charge."

Chapter Ten.

Four weeks later, Lach sat at the same cafe he had that very first day and kept a vigilant watch over Phoebe from afar. Brent was inside with her as always, along with Dunaway's PSD Agent, so campaign headquarters was relatively secure. He and Phoebe had gotten into a routine and kept things professional, just as they'd discussed. The days were rather mundane while their attraction simmered, and at times wanted to boil over. The snow that was falling outside did little to cool the temptation that he would enjoy giving into. His resolve was weakening with every sunrise, which was why he was sitting across the street while she was tucked safely inside campaign headquarters.

"You look like someone p.i.s.sed in your Wheaties."

He didn't bother to look over the small table as Connor pulled out a chair and took a seat. Lach had seen him approaching in the reflection of the windowpane. Lach kept his gaze locked on the street and the activities around the area. He wasn't in the mood for small talk, and so far the threats that started this Personal Security Detachment had yielded nothing-that was, in regards to the handwritten letters. An arrest had been made in reference to the emails. It appeared that the two threats had not been connected in any way. Other than that bit of excitement, the holidays had pa.s.sed by uneventful and a new year had started.

"I haven't had enough coffee."

"Well, then what I have to say just might brighten your day and you won't need that caffeine," Connor stated, finally pulling Lach's attention his way. "Victor Ward pled guilty today to communicating a threat of violence and first-degree telecommunications hara.s.sment. Taryn presented her findings as an expert witness to the prosecutor and it didn't take long for the defense lawyer to lead his client down the correct path. This time the man's a.s.s should stay in jail for quite a while."

"That's good news, although I feel bad for his daughter. It was obvious Hannah didn't know her father sent those emails. Regardless, she won't be allowed to work on any campaign any time soon." Lach was impressed that Taryn had located the originating server under the circ.u.mstances. The network was masked and the IPs were intentionally falsified to make it appear that the emails had originated outside of the country. She had to resort to tracking back the machine level MAC addresses to determine where the trail had been covered up and later rea.s.signed. She actually got everything done quicker than she'd stated it would take.

It wasn't long after that when Victor Ward's arrest had taken place, but since he'd gotten himself a young defense attorney who wanted to make a name for himself, the system had been dragging on a little too long for everyone's liking. The prosecutor finally had to pull the young attorney aside and school him on what he was doing to his career and exactly who he was p.i.s.sing off. Lach took a drink of what was left of the lukewarm coffee in his mug. He'd gotten used to the bitter flavored liquid they served here and found it wasn't half bad. "You think that particular news item is a good enough subst.i.tution for caffeine? You're warped."

"What can I say?" Connor asked with a grin. "Lauren has a way of making my mornings invigorating. To top it off, this snowstorm that's coming in this afternoon ought to make for a very warm night in front of a roaring fireplace on a goose down-filled comforter."

"I don't want to hear about your very boring and disturbingly disappointing s.e.x life." Lach signaled for the waitress to bring him a refill and to bring Connor a cup as well. "Now if you've come to say that Ward confessed to writing the letters as well, then I'll give you a pa.s.s and let you get Lauren to make me one of those paddles I saw Flint using on Sh.e.l.ley last week."

"My fiance does amazing work, doesn't she?" Connor sat back while the waitress poured Lach a refill and then set a new cup and saucer in front of him. It was easy to see that the waitress wanted to hear more about what they were discussing, but Connor waited until she'd left to finish what he was saying. Their penchant for the BDSM lifestyle might fascinate other people, but when it came right down to it, the subject usually got mixed reactions from the general public. Lauren Bailey had made a business of adorning BDSM implements with high quality jewels. Her craft was beautifully designed and had gotten recognition from several of the upper scale clubs around the country. "You know Lauren would do anything for you. Ask and you shall receive."

Lach nodded, but didn't delve into the discussion that this conversation was leading to. Yes, he'd gotten shot in the chest protecting Lauren from some mentally f.u.c.ked up douche bag who'd wanted to prove to one of the Mistresses at the club that he wasn't quite as pathetic as he appeared and was worthy of her attention. Masters had been closed down for a brief stint and it took Jax and Connor both to rebuild the trust that was instrumental in keeping such a club open to discreet and select clientele. They had tied their considerable knowledge of background investigations into the club's members.h.i.+p selection process and determined there needed to be some changes on how members were screened. Regardless, Lach had just been doing his job when he had reacted to an immediate threat and didn't need unwelcome or unneeded praise.

"Ward still says he had nothing to do with the handwritten letters. Taryn put a rush on the lab results, but preliminaries show there were no fingerprints or any type of DNA, or other trace evidence she could discern at her level."

"What about the brand of paper or the ink that was used?" Lach asked, glancing back across the street. Kimmie was bundled up in a black ski jacket and matching knit hat as she walked toward campaign headquarters. Her attending agent was one step behind and to the curbside of her, while Ethan was pulling up the rear, his phone attached to his ear. "Is there something special about the brands that we may be able to follow up on?"

"Generic enough to be worthless in tracing it to any particular source." Connor was reaching into his jacket and it didn't take long for Lach to know why. His phone was also vibrating and the two devices going off at the same time didn't bode well. Having all three of their objectives together in one place would either be a good thing or a tragic one. Both men stood and were out the door as Connor relayed the message. "Kimmie found a letter in her backpack. Ethan's called Crest in. He'll be here ASAP."

Lach zipped up his jacket and slipped on his wraparound ESS Crossbow Ballistic Shades, the bitter wind trying to obtain a way through the black leather of his coat. He looked both ways as they crossed the street, taking the time to observe the pedestrians as well as the vehicles through the flying flakes. His advanced eyewear improved the picture and allowed him to avoid covering up to protect his eyes from the cold air and damaging glare. No one and nothing stood out, but if there were anything to find, the numerous surveillance cameras that were surrounding the building would surely catch what the human eye couldn't.

It was pointless to ask questions, since Connor knew just as much as Lach did at this precise time. It didn't take long, and once they'd crossed the highly trafficked street they immediately entered the gla.s.s paned main door. Warmth instantly enveloped them, along with the sounds of ringing phones and the endless low murmurs from the volunteers. The place reminded Lach of one of those telethons that would come on Sunday mornings to raise money for some public access channel.

Phoebe was toward the right side of the room, her sister now standing in front of her obviously explaining what she'd found. Lach didn't want Kimmie to have to go through the facts more than was necessary, so he crossed the floor and interrupted their conversation, ignoring Phoebe's fragrance as it tried to infiltrate his pores. The black sweater dress hugged her body and left little to his overactive imagination, while the sky-high black leather boots made her legs longer than they actually were. He knew the exact length of her naked and highly sensuous form.

"This isn't something you should be discussing out here in the open," Lach stated, his voice low so that he wasn't overheard. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Connor was already in Dunaway's office, along with Ethan and Paul Mooney. "Let's take this into your father's office, please."

It was easy to feel the gazes of the others as Lach escorted the ladies into Dunaway's office. There would be speculation, and though Mooney had tried to keep a lid on the threats, it had become public knowledge when Victor Ward had been arrested. No one else was privy to the fact that the person writing the threatening letters was still doing so. Closing the door behind them, Lach knew it was just in time as Dunaway's voice boomed throughout the office.

"This person targeted Kimmie? How the h.e.l.l did they get that close to her?"

"They didn't, sir." Ethan stood on the far right of the room, his arms down in front of him with one hand encircling his other wrist. "Jacob cleared the cla.s.sroom before your daughter entered, as is protocol, and he found an envelope on one of the desks. Whoever it was knew Kimmie's schedule and had already antic.i.p.ated that the letter would be found."

"Taryn has pulled the video feed from the university's building security, but unfortunately that specific hallway is not monitored." Crest's voice came over the speaker in the desk phone where Connor must have connected him in. Lach could feel Phoebe's worried gaze on him, but he wouldn't give her the a.s.surance she needed. He wasn't sure if he could and the one thing he would never do was lie to her. "We'll compare the times of the cla.s.ses, look into the students who were there beforehand, as well as those people entering and exiting the building from the start of the day until the letter was found. Taryn will find us a key lead using facial recognition software or develop a fresh set of leads so that we can finally wrap this up so that you can concentrate on the primaries."

Paul Mooney, Phoebe, and the staff had been pulling double duty since Dunaway's announcement. Phoebe had been on more talk shows, media channels, and attending enough rallies to be physically drained, yet she continually had a smile on her face unless he'd made a point to make eye contact with her. It was only then that her smile faltered and her blue eyes deepened. He refused to lead them down that road and had purposefully kept his distance, monitoring her and her surroundings from afar.

"Dad, they did their jobs." Kimmie had shed her coat, although her knitted hat was still in place. Worry for her father etched her face. "No one has gotten close to me, and in fact I didn't even know about the letter until after they'd escorted me from the building."

"Where is it?" Dunaway was standing behind his desk with his fists resting on the surface. Lach switched his gaze to Phoebe, who had taken a seat in the other chair. Her eyes were still on him, yet he couldn't give her the comfort she needed. "Where's the letter?"

"We've given it to Jax, who is personally running it over to the Minneapolis Crime Lab." Ethan maintained his composure, and had Lach not been looking at his hands he wouldn't have seen the tightening of his fingers. Lach knew the adrenaline rush his friend must have felt upon discovering a threat in the vicinity of where his primary was. "It was your basic threat regarding the partisan of the upcoming Right to Work bill."

Lach listened as he tried to sort out the latest threat. Victor Ward was proud of his actions and satisfied that his protests had reached the media. He hadn't targeted a specific topic, although it was more to draw attention to politicians and their promises. Lach refused to be drawn into those discussions. He had his own viewpoints and he would make his choice come election time. The person behind the handwritten notes seemed to have a personal agenda with the Right to Work bill, which didn't make sense. The bill was across party lines, so why make that a focus?

"And what of that one kid that you had investigated at the university?" Dunaway rubbed the back of his neck, the frustration with his inability to control the situation apparent. "Was he anywhere near the building?"

"Austin Bentley wasn't on campus this morning," Ethan responded. "As was stated in my report, he finds the political arena fascinating and thought that by figuring out how to get close to Kimmie, he'd have an inside track to the campaign. We took care of that."

"He's not a kid," Kimmie argued, finally seeming more like herself. "He's twenty-six and almost done with his master's degree. He hangs out with some friends of mine and now he won't even talk to me."

"I find it hard to believe that Kaufman Rance and Philip Andrews would resort to delivering a message to one of your daughters." Paul finally spoke from where he leaned against the wall near the door. His arms were crossed and his impatience was evident. "One, they both agree with your sentiment on the bill. Second, children are off the table. So it's got to be someone else."

Lach mentally shook his head at the games and unwritten rules that came into play during vital elections like these. At the beginning of this case, Mooney had practically thrown Rance and Andrews under the bus. Men like Paul wanted to win and didn't care how that happened. Jax had looked into both running mates and came up empty-handed, although Rance had a very interesting past. Every person on their staff had also had a background check done and from what Lach could see their campaign managers were just as hungry for victory as Mooney was.

"Everyone is a suspect until the target is apprehended," Crest replied, static coming from the speakerphone. Paul shook his head, as if they were all barking up the wrong tree. Be that as it may, but that was why he ran these backwater dealings in politics and not a security firm. "We haven't ruled out anyone and it's only a matter of time before he or she makes a mistake. The primary election is in three weeks. If this person is in any way serious about carrying out any type of physical threat, it will happen sooner rather than later."

"Did this letter mention something specific?" Dunaway asked, his concentration now solely on the speakerphone as if Crest held all of the answers.

"I'm five minutes away, but Ethan and Lach, go ahead and clear out. The front of the storm has made its appearance. Take Phoebe and Kimmie to their homes while I conclude my meeting with Connor and Mr. Dunaway. Keep an eye on your phones. I'll be keeping you all updated as information comes in from what Jax, Kevin, and Taryn are discovering."

Lach pushed away from his position against the window of the office and waited for Phoebe to stand. She'd been unusually quiet and that in and of itself kept his guard up. Brent was standing right outside the door, but until Lach was sent that message from Crest, it would be Lach by her side. He indicated for Brent to grab Phoebe's coat and get her ready to leave, before pulling Ethan aside for a brief moment.

"What did it say?"

"Crest was trying to trip up Mooney," Ethan said in a low voice, understandably wanting to keep this information between the three of them. Connor had walked up, blocking their view from the others. "He didn't fall for it, so either he knows we're on to him or he's just f.u.c.king innocent. Turns out Mooney switched candidates four years prior. Dunaway defends the man's decision, but there was talk of double-crossing. Who the h.e.l.l knows with this crowd?"

"He didn't take the bait, but my gut feeling is that Mooney isn't our guy anyway." Connor rotated his shoulder, a self-conscious habit that told Lach it was an old injury. "At the rate this is going, Lauren and I won't have a wedding any time soon."

"No worries there, buddy. If Dunaway wins the primary, I guarantee you the Secret Service will take over immediately. The letter basically stated he should drop out before the election or else harm would come to his family." Ethan looked over Connor's shoulder, although Lach could see clearly that everyone else was otherwise engaged in their own conversation. Kimmie was speaking with her father, Paul had gotten a hold of Phoebe before she could exit the office, and everyone else was out in the bullpen trying to figure out what was going on. He had no doubt that someone would leak to the media that something was transpiring within the Dunaway campaign. "Crest's right as usual. When this guy strikes, it's going to be fast."

Chapter Eleven.