Campaign of Desire (CSA Case Files 4) (12 page)

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

*   *   *   *

“What the hell 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 snatched 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 relationship, God knew how he’d use that against her. He didn’t like that her father valued her opinion but that was just tough shit for him to deal with.

Due to the late hour, Phoebe had been able to park her vehicle right out front. She pressed the button 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 hell 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 relationship. 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 damn 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 fucking 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 passenger 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 shining 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 God, 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

F
our weeks later, Lach sat at the same café 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 pissed 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 passed 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 harassment. 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 ass 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 circumstances. 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 reassigned. 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 pissing 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 substitution 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 sex 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 pass and let you get Lauren to make me one of those paddles I saw Flint using on Shelley last week.”

“My fiancé 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 fucked 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 membership 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.