Campaign of Desire (CSA Case Files 4) (21 page)

“Crest is right, Taryn, and you know it.” Ethan must have come out from his cubicle, but Lach didn’t turn around to confirm that. It wasn’t his place, and if he were Taryn he’d feel the same way she did. Personal shit should stay personal. She was in between a rock and a hard place. “Besides, it’s me. I promise not to bring popcorn.”

“You’re such an ass,” Taryn muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. Ethan had done what he’d intended and that was to lighten the mood. Lach finished preparing the machine and hit the brew button. “Fine. Be ready to go by fifteen hundred.”

“Jax, we’ll be back on Saturday for Derrick’s birthday party,” Ethan called out so that Jax could hear him over the cubicles. Lach had turned around while the water dripped through the gold mesh funnel of his new Krups coffee pot. There would be no wringing the taste of mud out of the team’s old piece of shit. He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms, waiting patiently. Good coffee took time and it was well worth the wait. “Tell Emily not to cut the cake until we arrive.”

“The only one who needs to be there for the birthday song is Uncle Connor,” Connor exclaimed, walking toward Lach and the coffee. “You snooze, you lose. Lach, are you messing with the joe?”

“I don’t know what the hell you thought you were drinking, but it definitely wasn’t coffee—and that’s what I’m making. The old pot is still right there if you want that horseshit Twin Cities mud.”

“You find something that will lead us to Ryland, then we’ll wait all damn night to sing Happy Birthday.” Jax came around the corner, throwing his yellow stress ball into the air. “Just take care of
her
.”

“I’m right here and can hear every word you say.” Taryn moved her glasses off of her nose so that they rested on top of her head. She shot a glare Jax’s way. “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, jarhead.”

“What? You thought I was talking about you?” Jax asked, raising a brow. “Ethan’s borrowing my Jeep since another storm is supposed to hit. His clunker doesn’t have four-wheel drive. If I were worried about either one of you, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you. Ethan’s the one who always gets his ass in trouble.”

“The hell I do. I’m the only sane one on this whole crew. The rest of you assholes got yourselves tied down to one woman. Who the hell does that nowadays?”

“Speak for yourself,” Kevin said, entering from the foyer. His cheeks were red from the cold and his lips looked a little blue. Lach figured he’d been out on the streets cultivating his snitches. They tended to need attention every once in a while. “Elle’s the best damn thing that ever happened to me. I think the rest of us are in agreement that it is you who is the ultimate and most certainly consummate asshole. Who the hell brings their own popcorn bowl to an engagement party?”

“Wait a second,” Connor said, interrupting Kevin and his peeve regarding Ethan’s behavior at the party Elle and Kevin threw to celebrate their impending nuptials. “Lach isn’t in a serious relationship. Why’d you lump him in with us?”

Ethan took a seat at the conference table and propped his feet upon the surface while pretending to throw popcorn up in the air and catch it in his mouth. Lach shook his head in annoyance that Ethan would give him away to the crew. What did Connor always say? When there was blood in the water, the sharks came in schools.

“Crest, do you have a minute?” Lach asked, changing the subject.

He didn’t want Crest to assume that he’d gone back on his word. The man had been standing in the doorway, listening to the conversation although his eyes had been glued to the front reception area. He gave a nod and then disappeared back into his office. Jessie had called in sick today, which was a rare occurrence. Lach looked over at the coffee machine which was still in mid cycle. The fact that he now had to have a meeting with Crest before having a cup of coffee was all Ethan’s fault. What a complete dick.

“Phoebe Dunaway?” Connor asked, pulling the half pot of coffee off of the burner and shoving a mug underneath the stream of steaming liquid. “You of all people should remember the old adage—when you aim high, you miss the target.”

Lach cringed at the fact that Connor had just ruined a good vessel of caffeine. Didn’t everyone know that the entire filter of grounds needed to be brewed to get maximum rich flavor? This was all Ethan’s doing, but Lach didn’t say a word as he walked away from the group and into Crest’s office. He should have worked from home today. Ethan deserved some kind of special torture for today’s bullshit.

“Phoebe and I are resuming where we left off in Iraq,” Lach stated after he’d closed the door. He positioned himself in the middle of the office, hoping this meeting wouldn’t last long. “I kept my word and things remained professional throughout my detail.”

“I never doubted that you wouldn’t.” Crest walked behind his desk and took his chair. “Although you do realize that the more prominent she becomes in the media, you do as well.”

“You think that will affect my position here.” Lach didn’t bother to frame his sentence as a question. It was an obvious observation.

“Of course it will,” Crest stated, leaning back in his chair. “We’ll choose your cases wisely though. As for the media, I don’t have to tell you what would happen should they discover your specific predilection. Just be careful.”

“Jax and Connor run a tight ship.” Lach didn’t have to explain the regulations that the two men put into the club membership regarding confidentiality. Crest had sat in on the brainstorming and added his two cents, which were always worth more than that. No one could ever say the man didn’t know what he was doing. Although Crest didn’t play in public, his knowledge of the lifestyle went well beyond anyone’s definition of normal familiarity. “I appreciate the caution though.”

“Speaking of cases, I’ve set up a meeting on Friday with a client who wants us to look into a cold case relating to the disappearance of his daughter. It’s scheduled for zero eight hundred.”

Lach appreciated Crest’s tendency to get right to the point. The meeting was adjourned and coffee could finally be had—or not. There was no one at the conference table, but it didn’t matter. Unfortunately, Connor had to go and ruin the pot and by the time Lach got out into the common area, what was left had already been burned into the glass container. Fuck it. He’d tried and look what he got for his endeavor…burnt gourmet coffee.

Lach went into his cubicle and snatched up his leather jacket, shrugging his arms into the sleeves and smoothing the material over his holster. This gave him the perfect excuse to go and see Phoebe with two cups of bona fide java from his favorite shop. Leaving her last night had been hard, but essential to her well-being and preparation. He’d always been a man who was slightly obsessive compulsive, so when last night’s conversation had unearthed her interest in the lifestyle he’d come to love, everything had clicked into place.

“Heading out?” Jax asked as Lach walked by the opening of the cubicle he shared with Connor.

“Yes.” Lach didn’t elaborate, not wanting to add more blood to the water. “Need anything?”

“Emily just wants to make sure you’ll be there on Saturday.”

Lach had forgotten to RSVP with everything that had taken place, even with Jessie’s reminder, but it wasn’t like he would miss the little guy’s birthday. It was not only a celebration of Derrick’s birth, but also the survival of his mother. Emily’s labor had almost taken her life, nearly leaving the world less one angel on earth.

“Can I bring someone?”

Jax flashed a huge smile and playfully threw his yellow ball into the air once more. Damn if Lach hadn’t just bled into the waters. He shook his head at his own mistake and waited for the bite.

“I don’t know. Can you?”

Shit. Jax was going to let the crew do its own nibbling when Lach brought Phoebe to the party. It wasn’t like he had never been in the middle of the ocean with these hammerheads before and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. It was a damn good thing that Phoebe could handle her own. It did bring up the question if she would want to be thrown into the waters with him. There was only one way to find out.

*   *   *   *

Phoebe picked away at the protein bar, studying the spreadsheet in front of her. Paul had used money for the television advertisements, but it didn’t seem to be as much as last month’s fees. Were they missing one of the broadcasting outlets? The thought of the media brought her mind around to this morning, when she ate an omelet while watching the news and latest results on the polls. Per Lach’s request, she’d eaten a healthy breakfast. She wasn’t so sure about what that said about her.

“Another protein bar?”

Phoebe startled at the sound of Lach’s voice, just for a moment thinking she’d materialized him with her thoughts. Sure enough, he stood in front of her desk big as life. She couldn’t hold back a grin at the censorship in his voice. She’d had dreams of them being in a club and Lach doing wicked things to her, even those punishments she’d said she didn’t want to be a part of. She couldn’t resist goading him a little to see how far she could push him.

“You never said anything about lunch,” Phoebe said, still smiling. Her lips immediately formed an O when he turned and walked to her father’s office. It was the first time her dad had been at campaign headquarters in weeks, besides yesterday’s quick transfer of security. The Secret Service agent who was standing in front of the office door didn’t move upon Lach’s approach. Phoebe assumed it was because the agents had been in the meeting during the debriefing and they’d already met. Either way, she scrambled to her feet to find out what Lach was doing. “Lach? What are you doing?”

“Sir? Do you have a moment?”

Lach closed the door before Phoebe could enter. It sparked her anger that he thought he could keep her from their conversation. She could have sworn that the agent stationed at her father’s door smirked, but she gave him the glare she’d perfected into getting people to fear her before taking the handle in hand and barging in behind Lach.

“What are you doing?”

“I was going to have a private conversation with your father.”

“Why?” Phoebe looked up at him, hands on her hips. “This doesn’t concern him.”

“While all this is fascinating, may I ask what this is about?” Stan inquired, standing up and walking around his desk. He shook hands with Lach, who’d finally looked away from her, giving her time to breathe. The intensity in his face made her wary of what he was about to say and was grateful when her dad kept talking. “By the way, I appreciate that CSA honored my request not to say anything at the meeting yesterday in regards to Kimmie.”

“That was a family matter as far as I was concerned.” Lach motioned to Phoebe and that’s when she knew mortification was about to set in. “I’d like permission to take your daughter out to lunch. I understand that the campaign is in full swing, but she’s been working long hours and not taking care of herself properly. I’d like to change that.”

Phoebe bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from saying something sarcastic. What century did Lach think they were living in? It was one thing to be a gentleman, but this was a little over the top. She was a grown woman who could make her own decisions. It didn’t help her ire when her father’s smile widened. She’d let this play out and then say her piece. Unlike Lach, she knew when to speak and when not to.

“I appreciate your honesty, Lach. It will save me the worry to know that someone like yourself is watching over my daughter.”

Phoebe had heard enough and walked out of the office. She proceeded to her desk and put her coat on, grabbing her gloves and purse. If Lach wanted to have lunch, then by God, they’d have lunch. It didn’t take long for him to come out of her father’s office, all eyes on his progress as he made his way toward her.

“If you frown any harder, everyone is going to think that you don’t like me.”

“At the moment, I don’t really care.” Phoebe turned to go, ignoring Paul who was hiding a grin behind his hand. She turned back around. “As a matter of fact, I’m not sure I want to go to lunch.”

“Really?” Lach smiled as he pulled out his sunglasses and slipped them on his face. She wanted to tell him they weren’t needed since the sky was clouded, but at that moment a ray of sunshine broke through the front windowpane and brightened the inside area. This just wasn’t her day. “Then I guess what I had planned this evening will have to wait as well.”

Lach brushed past her, heading for the exit as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Phoebe stood there debating on what she should do, but curiosity overrode her frustration and she sauntered away from her desk with her head held high. When Lach opened the door for her and he took a step back for her to pass, she realized that he knew she would follow all along.

“We still have things to discuss, Mr. McKinnon.” Phoebe wouldn’t admit it, but she’d have loved to have her sunglasses on as well. The sunlight was glaring off of the snow and the wet roads. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to prove by not putting them on, but she’d go with her instinct. “Shall we head back to my apartment for some privacy?”

Chapter Seventeen