Campaign of Desire (CSA Case Files 4) (41 page)

Lach grunted when Phoebe wrapped her arms around his neck, although he didn’t pull away. His chest would hurt for a while but he would have given his life had it meant Phoebe lived. He had no doubt that each of them would cherish the months and years to come, knowing the outcome of today could have been vastly different. Things needed to be discussed and plans implemented for their future, especially if Stan Dunaway became President of the United States. Lach had no idea how long they stayed on the floor of her apartment while people were coming in and going out, but all he kept thinking was leave it to him to find the most complicated woman on earth.

“Lach, you realize the team isn’t going to give you a pass on this one.” Crest pulled both of their attentions toward him as he stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets. “There’s only so many times a man can be shot in the chest before one actually does the job it’s intended for.”

“Do they need to know?” Lach asked, knowing his question was futile when Crest threw his head back and laughed. “Fucking sharks. Every one of them. Phoebe, help me up. I refuse to be on my ass when they start circling.”

Chapter Thirty

P
hoebe had wrapped herself in Lach’s robe before she exited his bathroom. His smell enveloped her and she pulled the belt tighter, wanting to seal it on her skin. She was still finding it hard to keep warm and was very grateful when he had brought her to his apartment after the millions of questions she’d had to answer. He held her hand on the drive here and didn’t let her go until he drew her a hot bath. It had been after ten o’clock at night before she’d been allowed to see anyone outside of her Secret Service interviewer, though the first person had been her father.

Stan Dunaway had been holding Kimmie by his side, right outside of the office that Phoebe had been isolated in. The Secret Service had transferred everyone to be questioned to the local federal building. Each person had been interviewed separately. Exhaustion had settled in but she knew she had to take time to assure her father that she was all right and that her sister was emotionally okay. The guilt Kimmie felt for allowing Austin Bentley into their lives was evident and there was nothing that Phoebe could say to make that go away.

Hannah Ward had been pronounced dead on the scene. Phoebe hadn’t even bothered to look behind her when everything had taken place. She’d seen Lach go down and her heart literally had stopped beating, thinking she’d lost him. He was larger than life, yet he had dropped to the floor as if someone had blown out a candle. It was a moment that she would relive in her dreams for a long time to come, but she would have him to hold when those nightmares occurred. She would live through thousands of them, as long the outcome remained the same—him by her side upon awaking. Unfortunately, Agent Johanson’s wife wouldn’t have that luxury. Phoebe had no words for the grief and the guilt that would forever remain a part of her.

As for Stewart, he technically hadn’t done anything wrong, but Phoebe had to wonder if he would have actually gone through with the deal he had made between him and Hannah. He claimed that he’d been trying to buy all of them time, but Phoebe wasn’t so sure. She knew without a doubt that Hannah and Austin would have killed him before walking out that door. It would have been the only way to keep him quiet about what they had planned.

Austin Bentley’s family was in denial and already making claims that Hannah Ward had brainwashed their son. They’d hire an expensive attorney, but Phoebe hoped that the public saw through the ruse of mental instability. Her father would ensure that the prosecutors would see this case through to the end, not stopping until there was a heavy sentence handed down.

“How’s my socialite doing?” Lach said, walking into the bedroom with two mugs in his hands. His dark eyes looked her over and she knew he was gauging for himself. He’d been looking at her since Agent Robbins had finally dismissed them. He only had his jeans on at the moment and a massive bruise was visible dead center over his heart on his chest. She winced and could only imagine how painful it was. “Climb under the covers.”

“I don’t want—”

“Under,” Lach ordered, walking around the other side of the bed, not waiting to see if she followed his instructions. Phoebe didn’t want to remove his robe, but she figured she was getting the better trade by crawling under his covers. As she settled herself against two oversized pillows propped against the headboard while pulling up the sheets, Lach handed her one of the steaming mugs and placed his on the nightstand. He removed his jeans and boxer briefs, giving her a view that she would never tire of seeing. Right now, she just needed to be held. “Drink.”

“I noticed that when you were talking today, you didn’t speak more than ten words in a sentence.” Phoebe took a sip without looking to see what was inside the cup and grimaced when it wasn’t tea or coffee. She pulled it away and looked down, seeing that it was warm milk. She’d never had a taste for it before and didn’t really want it now. To cover up that she wasn’t going to drink anymore, she went on to explain what she meant. “Counting helped keep me calm.”

“Wait,” Lach said, standing there in all his glory and hands on his hips, “while there were weapons trained on us and the potential was high of us getting shot, you sat there on the couch and counted my words?”

When he said it like that, Phoebe could admit that it sounded odd. Technically, it had become a habit a long time ago and relying on it during a time of crisis
had
kept her composed. She lifted one shoulder slightly and looked down into the white liquid, tossing his words aside.

“Anything was better than thinking of the alternative,” Phoebe replied in a soft voice, the terror she’d felt earlier still within the vicinity. Would it ever go away? “When you walked in there like you didn’t have a care in the world, I thought for sure they’d shoot you on sight.”

“Phoebe, I wasn’t saying there was a right or wrong way to think when faced with a situation like that.” Lach finally climbed onto the bed and joined her under the covers. She took the moment to place her mug on the nightstand by her side and then turned back to see him propped up on his elbow and watching her intently, but he didn’t comment on her sly move. “It actually makes me feel good that you would concentrate on something that I’m saying or doing to keep yourself calm.”

Lach finally lay back against his pillow and reached out for her, pulling her close so that she could rest her head on his chest. Phoebe made sure her cheek rested on his right side, enduring she didn’t put pressure on his bruise. She couldn’t say what it was…his warmth, the tenderness of his touch, the peace she felt by finally being in his arms…but a sob rose up within her, catching her off guard.

“It’s okay, Phoebe,” Lach whispered against her hair, pulling her tighter against him even though it had to have caused him pain. His action made her cry harder. “I’ve got you.”

Phoebe wasn’t sure how long she cried, but she did know the reasons why. It was for losing a mother so early in life. It was for having come so close to losing her own life before she actually lived it. It was almost having lost her sister and that now that Kimmie had survived, she would live with a guilt that could never be taken away. It was for Agent Johanson and the family he’d left behind. It was for experiencing a fear like she’d never known existed upon seeing Lach get shot. It was for thinking she’d lost him and would have to carry out her days without him by her side.

“I didn’t know l-loving someone could h-hurt so much,” Phoebe stuttered, trying to breathe through the sobs wracking her body. “Watching y-you, s-seeing you go down l-like that…it felt l-like my heart exploded. Please don’t ever l-leave me.”

“I can’t make assurances of things beyond my control, but I do promise that I will never leave you voluntarily.” Lach tucked her hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek with his thumb, wiping away some of her tears. It wasn’t the guarantee that Phoebe really wanted, but she knew it was the most paramount oath he could have given. “I do love you, Phoebe. You don’t seem to understand that if you don’t survive, neither do I. I can’t live without you. That much should be obvious. I should share something with you though.”

“What’s that?” Phoebe whispered, grateful when he handed her tissues from the bedside table. She wiped her eyes and her nose, keeping her head tucked into the corner of his arm. She didn’t want him to see her like this, but it was useless. He cradled her chin and brought her face up to his until she met his gaze. “Lach?”

“This is the second time that I’ve had to save your ass, and lovely as it is, I can guarantee if you put it in danger again you’ll have large red handprints on your lovely ass cheeks that will make it difficult for you to sit for days.” Lach released her and let his head drop back against the pillow, closing his eyes. “Now if that’s what you wanted all along, all you had to do was ask.”

Phoebe’s emotions had been all over the place today, and now was no exception. She half cried and half laughed at his remarks. She couldn’t seem to help herself and she felt the floodgates open up once more. She couldn’t have asked for anything more when Lach stroked her hair and arm continuously until the darkness consumed her.

*   *   *   *

Lach watched as Phoebe’s eyelashes fluttered on her flushed cheeks. He’d known she couldn’t get warm enough earlier, so he’d turned up the heat before joining her in the bedroom. She’d only been asleep for two hours and most of that wasn’t restful. He’d left the lamp sitting the bedside table on so that she wouldn’t awake to darkness. He didn’t want her scared and he found that he couldn’t stop looking at her, relishing in the fact she was here…safe and sound.

Lach placed his hand on Phoebe’s shoulder when her breathing became uneven. She moved her head towards his warmth and he had to wonder if she instinctively knew that he was there, watching over her. There was a peace within him now that hadn’t been there this morning. He’d made decisions that he would have to discuss with her, but a future together would contain a lot of compromising. He twirled the bottom edges of her hair, wrapping the silky strands around his fingers.

“You’re deep in thought,” Phoebe whispered, catching his attention. Her nose was still red and her eyes were slightly bloodshot from crying herself to sleep. Lach brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek, taking in every detail. “Everything okay?”

“I have you by my side.” Lach gave her a small smile, letting her know that everything was fine. He made a mental note to book another trip to California. His parents should definitely meet the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with. “I’m busy making plans. Go back to sleep and let me concentrate.”

“You aren’t allowed to resort to the
below ten word sentence
with me,” Phoebe said, her eyes being drawn to the bruise that now contained more hues of blue, black, and green than she probably ever knew existed. Lach didn’t want her attention on it, so he tapped her chin. “I’ve earned a full conversation.”

“Oh really? And how did you come up with that assertion?”

“You love me.”

“That I do, little socialite,” Lach replied with a laugh, instantly wincing at the deep ache in his chest.

“What were you thinking about?”

“The changes we need to make,” Lach answered honestly, pulling the covers a little higher when he saw her shiver. Phoebe scooted a little closer to him, her warm legs entangling with his. “I’ll talk to Crest on Monday regarding contract work.”

“What?” Phoebe scrambled to sit up and Lach berated himself, knowing he should have waited to have this conversation with her in the morning. Her blue eyes were now wide open and there wasn’t anything lethargic about her. If he didn’t know any better, he would have sworn by her reaction that she’d spent time in boot camp. “Why would you do that?”

“Because that’s the way it has to be.” Lach rearranged his pillows and eased himself up slightly so that he was eye level to her. The sheet had fallen, revealing her beautifully shaped breasts. If she wanted to have this conversation now, so be it. At least he had a view that would keep him occupied. “You have eight weeks left before primaries. After that, you said you were handing your duties over to Mooney so that you can put your energy back into the foundation. So, for eight weeks, where you go—I go.”