Campaign of Desire (CSA Case Files 4) (3 page)

A knock sounded on the door in Phoebe’s hotel room, startling her out of her reverie. She was grateful for the interruption. A quick glance at her watch showed her that Timothy was a little early. She hoped his premature arrival didn’t indicate problems with the medical supplies that were supposedly already waiting for her at the compound. She’d completed one charitable mission after Africa and she’d been on pins and needles the entire time. Nevertheless, volunteering in this manner wasn’t something she could just give up due to a few lingering nerves.

“Coming.”

Phoebe looked down at her khaki shorts and white T-shirt and then frowned at her vanity. It was a hard habit to break, confirming her appearance was proper. Her mother and father had ingrained that trait in her from the time she could walk. It didn’t matter what she looked like out here, as long as she was covered enough to keep the local religious leaders off the warpath. All that really counted was giving these people the aid and support they needed. She tucked her hair behind her ears as she crossed the room, looking for one of her hair ties but unable to locate any. Those were a necessity during these missions as far as she was concerned.

Grabbing and twisting the knob, Phoebe opened the door and came face to face with the last man she would have ever expected to be Iraq. Fear among other primal feelings and thoughts ran through her as her brain tried to process what Lach McKinnon’s presence might mean. What stuck at the forefront were his parting words the last and only time she’d seen him. She’d never admit that his words were like daggers to her heart.
You’re nothing but a spoiled little rich girl
.

“Let’s go.”

Rage balled up in Phoebe’s chest as she stared up into his dark eyes. Lach was tall…taller than any man she’d ever had personal dealings with. His demeanor could almost be described as lethal and she’d certainly seen him in that manner. He kept his dark hair short, although not cropped. It seemed to stay in place, the same as the frown on his chiseled face. The square of his jaw was prominent, but it was his lips that took exception. They were full and appeared soft, unlike his unpleasant personality.

“Nothing has happened,” Phoebe pronounced, a little too loud even to her. She hated being on the defensive and he seemed to have an automatic way of causing her to be that way. “We haven’t even been taken to the compound that we’ll be working out of and we have enough security. Why are you here?”

“There’s never enough security in a place like this.”

Lach stepped forward, causing Phoebe to move back and let him gain entrance. She’d noticed it before, but he was a man of few words and he wasn’t the type to be rushed with what he
did
have to say. Knowing the fastest way to get him to leave would be for her to remain silent and force his hand, she buried her frustration, closed the door behind him and used the wood for support. He didn’t need to see that her fingers were still clutching the handle.

Phoebe watched him as he surveyed the room, which was sparse. The organization that she worked for, the Crescent Heart Foundation, didn’t have a lot of cash to work with and what they did have on the accounts was used for aid. She did a lot of soliciting for charitable contributions when she wasn’t actively in the field. She’d taken over Annabelle Dunaway’s one true love and had no intention of stopping. Her father and those he employed would have to come to accept that. The woman’s legacy foundation was all that Phoebe had left of her mother.

“Your father’s debating a run for the presidency. You’re needed at home.”

Had the doorknob been made of anything else instead of metal, Phoebe had no doubt she would have torn it off. She closed her eyes, willing the tears that had welled up to subside. They weren’t from sadness, but from pure anger. Stan Louis Dunaway thought of no one but himself…certainly not his daughters. She wondered if Kimmie had been notified, but she didn’t want to let Lach know how much this affected her. Guilt ate at her for feeling that way about her father. He did love them, but work always seemed to come before her and her sister.

“I’ll be home when I finish this mission.” Phoebe cleared her throat and forced her fingers to release the handle. “We’re set up and ready to go. Timothy and Lolita are due here any moment. The other volunteers should already be at camp. We’re not going to disappoint the people of the area that we’ve targeted to help.”

“As I said, you’re needed at home. I’m not here to debate with you. Take it up with your father.”

“I will. From here.” Phoebe waited for his gaze to swing to hers, and when it did she met him eye for eye. The right side of his jaw twitched, but other than that he showed no sign of emotion. She wasn’t going to back down. He didn’t get to tell her what to do. “Feel free to leave.”

“When I leave here, you’ll be by my side.”

For some insane reason Phoebe felt that he wanted to add
or over his shoulder
, but he refrained. There were a lot of things she was abstaining from saying too, so he didn’t get carte blanche. When he widened his stance and crossed his arms, it took everything in her not to pick something up and throw it at him. He irritated her in a way no one else ever had.

“How much is my father paying you?” Phoebe asked, mimicking his posture. Two could play this game. “You don’t strike me as the type of man to be someone’s lackey.”

“Phoebe, let’s be clear.” Lach let his hands fall to his sides and then he took a step forward. It took everything in her not to back away. “I would have done this assignment for free. You’re the daughter of a U.S. Senator. You’re intentionally putting yourself at risk and someone needs to ride your ass until you get it through your goddamned head that this isn’t some ‘dress-up and help the poor volunteer day’. You needlessly put yourself and others in jeopardy. Your little pastime got good men killed…my men. So I’m telling you one more time. Get your bag and let’s go.”

Again, so many thoughts and emotions ran through Phoebe that her brain couldn’t process them all. Lach had never strung together more than a sentence that contained ten words, yet he’d just lectured her like he had some God-given right. He knew nothing about her and her need to continue her mother’s work. He definitely didn’t know about the guilt that ate at her daily for those lives lost in Africa. As for her being a U.S. Senator’s daughter—that was her cross to bear.

Before Phoebe could respond to his criticism, another knock sounded at the door. To her utter disbelief, Lach drew his weapon from underneath his leather jacket and used two long strides to bring him beside the door. This was getting out of hand. They weren’t in Northern Africa and she knew damn well who was at the door.

“Stop it,” Phoebe hissed, marching up and trying to move Lach out of the way. She might as well have been trying to move the rock of Gibraltar. His large hand encircled her upper arm and he had her up against the wall in under a second, the front of her body now melded with his. She’d lost her breath but quickly regained it back upon hearing another rap on the door. “It’s only Timothy. He’s here to tell me that the vehicles are out front and ready to take us to our location.”

“I’ll deal with him.”

Just like that, Lach pushed away from her and stood to his full height. Phoebe tucked her hair behind her ears, trying to regain some composure. He had her off kilter and that wasn’t a feeling she usually had to deal with. He had the door open and Timothy inside the room before she could try and do it herself.

“Um, is everything okay?” Timothy asked, looking anxiously at Lach’s weapon. He pushed up his glasses and then rubbed his palms along his navy shorts. “Phoebe?”

“Phoebe’s needed at home.” Lach casually replaced his pistol into the holster and let his jacket fall over it, giving her the answer as to why he was wearing a coat to begin with. “I’m sure you can carry out the volunteer mission in her place.”

“Phoebe?”

She had two options but knew that the only one Lach would accept at the moment was her choosing to head back to the States. If she selected to stay, she wasn’t so sure Lach didn’t have a backup plan to make sure she was on that plane. Timothy didn’t need to be subjected to her father’s henchman. Stan Dunaway was a very determined man and it was obvious he’d hired someone of the same caliber. In her mind, that wasn’t a compliment.

“There’s been a change in plans, Timothy.” Phoebe then proceeded to walk him through everything he needed to know and even supplied him with the inventory list. “Make sure Nancy has full access to the medical supplies and that Donna has enough locals to help deliver the food.”

Phoebe continued to answer Timothy’s questions, all the while noticing that Lach had situated himself across the room in one of the chairs up against the far wall. His dark gaze never wavered from her and she had no doubt that he still thought of her as some spoiled little rich girl getting her rocks off helping those less fortunate. She pushed away the need to change his opinion, telling herself that it didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.

“Okay,” Timothy replied, sneaking one more look at where Lach was sitting. The silence was deafening and Phoebe shot a look of annoyance his way. He didn’t need to be rude. “Well, I guess I’ll be going. I’ll try to contact you over the Sat phone in the next few days, but I probably won’t make it back to the city anytime soon.”

“That’s fine.” Phoebe walked Timothy to the door, trying not to scrunch her nose at the smell of his clothing treated with permethrin. Sand fleas and mites would definitely keep their distance from him. “Once I make sure things are fine at home, I might even be able to join the last leg of the trip.”

Phoebe ignored Lach’s cough that indicated something entirely different. Timothy was finally out in the hallway, and after an exchange of good-byes she finally closed the door and turned back around. Lach’s penetrating stare had a tremor traveling up her spine. He wasn’t eyeing her in his usual manner and she wasn’t sure how to interpret this intensity.

“You got your way, Lach. I’ll return to the States with you and then you’ll be rid of me. Once I have a discussion with my father, there will undoubtedly be no reason for him to ever hire you again.” Phoebe watched him, waiting for some sign that he heard her. He was like a Greek statue that didn’t move, yet somehow managed to give a person the feeling of being observed. It was unsettling and she needed to gain the upper hand. “Shall we go?”

“Why do you do this?”

Such a simple question, yet Phoebe was surprised he even asked. There was something in his voice that made her think his inquiry wasn’t just idle curiosity. Lach made it known that he’d already drawn his conclusions. What made him think differently now? She also had no doubt that he knew everything about her from before he ever rescued her in Africa. Her father would have handed over the file of her life like it was nothing more than business. For some odd reason, she felt like he was going to yank the rug out from under her feet at any moment if she gave him an answer he wanted to hear, or better yet, a response he didn’t like.

“That’s none of your business. I said I’d go with you, so let’s go.”

“Is it because of your mother?” Lach’s question prompted Phoebe to action and she crossed the room to where her backpack was still situated on the bed. He’d inquired about something that he already knew the answer to. He was playing with her and she didn’t like it. She slipped the knife off of the comforter and into the sheath in her boot, knowing she’d have to throw it out before entering the airport. She’d bought it from one of the local security contractors and even had the intention of buying a small pistol as well. The country was literally overflowing with hired mercenaries. Now she wouldn’t need it. To make matters worse, Lach kept talking about her mom. “If that’s the case, I’m sure your mother wouldn’t want you putting yourself in danger.”

Lach’s voice was a little too close for her comfort. Phoebe stiffened when his arm slowly reached down her leg and he placed his hand into the side of her boot. He stood and held the knife in front of her, the heat of his body enveloping her back. She’d forgotten what it was that they were even talking about.

“This wouldn’t have saved you had a group of mercenaries wanted your supplies or your life. It would be more likely they would use it on you or one of your friends.” The knife disappeared, but if Lach thought she was going to turn around and face him, he’d be waiting a long time. Her ear hummed with the vibration of his voice, sending tremors down her neck. “You let emotion overrule your head. It’s a mistake that will eventually get you killed.”

Phoebe sensed that he moved away when the heat faded, and little by little she felt herself relax. She picked up her pack and swung one of the straps over her shoulder. Before it settled onto her back, it was taken from her hand. She spun around, surprised to find that he was still inches away. She was stunned when his warm lips claimed hers, but shocked even more by her reaction.

Chapter Three