CSA Case Files: Campaign of Desire Part 5

Phoebe was bone tired, as in mentally and physically exhausted. Between doing everything in her power to keep her distance from Lach, worrying that her sister wouldn't listen to her security detail, and working eighteen hour days on her father's campaign...she didn't have anything left to give. When Victor Ward had been arrested, she truly thought the threats would come to an end. How wrong she'd been, and now Lach was following her down the hallway. Brent was still on duty, which was unusual because Sam would have normally taken over by now. She saw Brent come out of her apartment and knew that the coast was clear. This was where Lach would leave and she would remain in her apartment, alone and with a gla.s.s of wine to take the edge off. She wasn't sure how much longer she could take this mundane schedule.

"Sam had to meet his wife at the hospital. They think Joseph broke his arm."

"Call him and tell him that I'll take over." Lach motioned toward the elevator with his thumb. "Go home and get some rest."

Phoebe couldn't stop her heart from racing and wondered what Lach meant by that. Would he take up station outside her door or would he come inside with her? She wasn't sure she could handle him in such close proximity and still be able to keep this sensibility they had going. She was reaching the end of her rope and wanting to grasp onto something just for her. That something was Lach McKinnon, and at some point she was going to say to h.e.l.l with this oath he'd given to Gavin Crest.

"Please tell Sam that he's in my thoughts," Phoebe said, feeling guilty that she was only thinking about her s.e.x life while Sam's son was hurt and at the hospital.

"Will do, Phoebe."

Lach reached around her and turned the k.n.o.b, opening the door for her. Phoebe stepped over the threshold trying to ignore his manly scent, and normally when her stress level would come down a notch from just walking into her sanctuary, she remained tense when he walked in behind her. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder to see his face, not that it would give her insight into his emotions.

"Would you like a drink?" Phoebe removed her coat and cringed at the sound of her voice, so impersonal and detached. It was her way of keeping him at a distance, the way they agreed on, but she knew it made her come across as a b.i.t.c.h. She tried to soften her tone as she hung up her jacket. If they were ever given a chance to progress past this point, she wanted to make d.a.m.n sure he at least was still attracted to her. "I can make some coffee. You hadn't intended to be here this evening, so I'm sure the caffeine would be helpful."

"No, thank you." Lach's voice came from the doorway and when Phoebe finally looked at him, she realized that he hadn't shut the door. Her frustration mounted at their behavior. "I'll take up Sam's station. I just wanted to make sure you didn't have any questions. I could see your concern for Kimmie earlier."

"How long do you think it will be before we have the results?" Phoebe wrapped her arms around her waist, covering the patent leather black belt she wore to accent her dress. She used her fingers to grasp onto the thick material, hoping it would function as a restraint to keep her from reaching out to him. Her emotions felt scattered and she didn't like it. "If this person didn't hesitate to get that close to Kimmie, this might be more than just a p.i.s.sed off a.s.shole. I mean, if he placed it in the cla.s.sroom instead of trying to get to her physically, he most certainly knows that she has protection, yet that didn't cause him to reconsider making his threat."

"I think I'll take you up on that coffee," Lach said, slowly closing the door behind him. She'd left the light on in the foyer, but with his tall frame, his face was still in shadow and she couldn't see his expression. The light actually backlit his hair and gave him a kind of halo, making Phoebe stop and stare. He didn't move until she did, and she made her way into the kitchen shaking her head slightly, flipping another switch and casting the room in a golden hue. "First, it might not be a he. Never a.s.sume. Two, he or she knows that Kimmie has protection because for the last month she's had a large male as her shadow. Three, we all know that if the previous letters didn't contain evidence to help us, this one is likely not to either."

Phoebe felt more grounded as she went about making coffee, busying herself as she listened to what Lach had to say. He'd removed his jacket, revealing a brown leather holster and his weapon, reaffirming their situation and giving it a genuine threatening feel. She took a deep breath and hit the brew b.u.t.ton, hoping he'd continue to talk to her and slowly drain her apprehension, making it a little less overwhelming.

"Have you and your father talked about who it could be?" Lach didn't take a seat on the stool, but instead stood behind the tall seats with his arms crossed. It was probably for the best, knowing he'd probably take his cup of coffee and go back outside her door. "He seems to think it's someone unrelated to the campaign, but I'm not so sure. This seems more personal."

"Why would you say that?" Phoebe's curiosity was peaked and she suddenly felt better, this brainstorming giving her what sitting alone couldn't do. "Is there something more to the letter that you're not telling us?"

"It goes without saying that handwritten letters are more intimate." Lach said that last word in such a way that warmth spread throughout Phoebe's body. She tried to focus on the conversation at hand, knowing how she heard it wasn't how he'd intended. "Someone taking that much time and effort, a.s.suring themselves that there is no trace evidence is a person who takes this very personally. Granted, he or she might not have had the capability that Victor Ward had in rerouting the IP address, but these letters take determination."

"You think it's someone working the campaign?" Phoebe thought over the list of volunteers and came up empty handed. "Cindy, Kate, Joe, Troy, and George are the latest recruits, but they've been vetted out by Mr. Crest. The other volunteers and paid employees have either worked on previous campaigns and have the experience we need or they were brought on board for other reasons. Those people have had a background check as well."

"Just because we investigated everyone a.s.sociated with your father's campaign and came up with nothing doesn't mean there is nothing. It just means that the person is good at hiding their motives and simply hasn't been caught in the act yet." Lach seemed to hesitate, but then continued. It didn't take her long to figure out why he faltered on sharing more information with her. "Take your foundation, for instance. You're taking a long leave of absence to help your father. Is there anyone there that voiced their concern?"

"I'm not naive enough to think that Mr. Crest hasn't investigated anyone and everyone a.s.sociated with me, my sister, and my father." Phoebe couldn't help but scrunch her nose at what he was implying. She went about getting them two cups and placed them on the counter. "But if you're asking if I think it's someone in my mother's foundation who would do that, then the answer is absolutely no. They are all honest people who want to help others and have all been doing so for a long time."

"You say that a lot."

Phoebe looked up when the tenor of Lach's voice transformed into something sensual, and although she could feel the altered air, she wasn't aware of why. She thought back over what she'd said. Was he speaking of her not being naive? Had she said that before? Why would that have him viewing her differently?

"What do I say a lot?"

"If I'm not mistaken, the Crescent Heart Foundation is yours. Not your mother's."

Lach was taking their conversation and turning it to a more intimate subject. He had to be aware that to mention Phoebe's mother brought back memories that were both happy and sad, taking her back in time and wanting nothing more than to extend the moments they'd had together as a family. Sharing anything in regards to her mom meant opening up to someone who'd already set boundaries.

"It is. I just still find it hard to accept it."

Phoebe watched as Lach slowly dropped his arms and came around the island to stand next to her. Her fingers had still been touching the mugs, but he took them from underneath her hands and went about filling them to the brim. Having him this close made her breathing a little labored. He didn't say anything as he went to the refrigerator and took out the flavored creamer she preferred. Pouring in the perfect amount, he then replaced the carton. Picking up both coffees, he then went into the living room, leaving her standing there slightly disconcerted.

"Is running the foundation not what you want to do?"

Phoebe followed behind and noticed that he'd set her cup down on the coaster in front of the sofa. He'd walked to the large balcony window overlooking the city, which was now blanketed in falling snow. It was hard to even see the buildings, although flickers of light would show through the flakes every now and then. She took a seat in the middle of the sofa, and although she wanted to unzip her boots, didn't want Lach to think she was trying to garner his attention. Even though the conversation was. .h.i.tting a little too close to home, she'd never known Lach to talk at this kind of length and found that she really enjoyed it.

"It is...I think." Phoebe struggled to put into words what she'd felt over the years. "I wanted to keep that part of my mother alive, I guess, and it turned into something full time after I graduated college. I'd rather leave the office and paperwork to someone else and just spend my time out in the field, but it's hard to find someone to do the job on the annual salary it pays out."

"So you live off of your trust fund?" Lach leaned his shoulder against the windowpane, sipping his coffee as he looked at her for a response. There was no judgment on his face, although she found herself still searching his brown eyes for condemnation. "I find that hard to believe."

"Really?" Phoebe asked, unable to hold back a laugh. She picked up her coffee and sank back into the cushions. "This is coming from the man who called me a spoiled little rich girl?"

"Hmmm-I might have jumped to a few conclusions," Lach replied, a small smile at the edge of his lips. Phoebe's heart rate accelerated and her hand trembled, sending her coffee very close to the edge of her cup. "It's rare, although it does happen from time to time."

"I can understand that, especially when you lost men on that mission." Phoebe felt a lump form in her throat in remembering the events leading up to that fateful moment. "I am truly sorry. It was never my intention to-"

"Phoebe, I know that you and those that work at the foundation never intended to get caught up with the rebels and used for extortion purposes. The work we do, the nature of the beast, involves risks that we agreed to and understand from personal experiences." Lach looked down into his black coffee, giving Phoebe a sense that he wasn't only talking about what took place in Africa. "It doesn't make it any easier, but knowing you were helping children get the medical care they need to survive does count for something. The one thing that I hope you took out of that was to ensure that you take every precaution for your missionary team with the right security going forward so that losing human lives only to save others doesn't occur again needlessly."

"I have changed the security firm that Crescent uses, per your suggestion," Phoebe admitted, wanting him to know she didn't take the sacrifices of those men for granted. "We also use locals, depending on the area. Iraq went well, but it was my last one for a while."

"Watching you these past weeks has made me see that you work hard, but that effort is always on someone else's behalf." Lach took a drink of his coffee, looking quite comfortable where he was. Normally, Phoebe would be uneasy with someone standing while she was sitting, but not with him. "So what is it that you truly want to do for yourself?"

"Let someone else do the hard tedious work in the office while I get to go out into the field and do the truly rewarding work," Phoebe admitted honestly, pulling her boot clad legs up underneath her. There was something quite calming with their conversation and she found that she wanted to share more of herself. "Seeing the faces on those mothers who thought their children might die without food, water, or medication gives me great personal satisfaction."

"But no one has the connections or the dedication to bring in the monetary funds like you do." Lach pointed out the obvious, nodding his head slightly as if he understood. "I hope that after your father becomes President that you get your wish. However, somehow I doubt you will have that freedom. Use that time for yourself and find something personally satisfying and a bit more safe."

"You make it sound like my dad's a shoo-in for commander in chief." Phoebe believed her father would make an excellent leader, but politics wasn't solely about that. "He's been going to debate after debate, and yes, the polls show he's the top runner of the party. If he gets past the primaries and it comes to election time, it'll be a close vote. And yes, maybe afterward I'll use that time to find someone with enough experience to run Crescent. What I'd really like to do is spend time with you, but we can come back to that. You know more about me than I do about you and that's not quite fair."

Lach's rich laughter filled the air and Phoebe couldn't help but smile back. She figured he might feel she was coming on too strong, but it wasn't like they didn't know how the other felt. This attraction, this chemistry, this sensual bubble they'd created wasn't going away and both of them knew they were waiting for the right time. There was no doubting that he had a dominant personality and she had enough courage within herself to stand up to that challenge.

"What would you like to know, Little Miss Socialite? And just for the record, I meant what I said about me making the rules."

"Everything." Phoebe ignored his taunt because she felt like she'd turned into a sponge and was about to be placed underneath a faucet. She'd never seen him in this frame of mind, and as exhausting as today had been, she would have easily stayed up another twenty-four hours had it meant he would share something of himself with her. "Parents? Siblings? Childhood?"

"Let's see," Lach said, lifting his shoulder off of the windowpane and walking over to the cushioned chair opposite her. His large frame took up every inch of s.p.a.ce as he sat on the edge and placed his coffee cup on a coaster. "My parents live in Northern California and are very happily married, even after forty plus years. My brother is in the Navy while my sister is a triage nurse-both of them live not far from where we grew up. I'm the only one who strayed."

"It doesn't surprise me," Phoebe said softly, in awe of all the things she still wanted to know. She needed to know. It was rather ridiculous, but she couldn't imagine what his parents were like. "Are you the oldest?"

"Why, yes ma'am." Lach touched two fingers to his forehead and gave her a pretend salute. Phoebe couldn't help but laugh and truly wanted this conversation to last throughout the late afternoon and into the evening. "I made sure my brother knew how to take care of himself if I wasn't around and I protected my sister from sc.u.mbags who looked at her twice. Five years in the Corps. I was an all American in football through my senior year of college at UC Davis, all the way on my own dime through the GI bill and scholarships after the Corps."

"What do your parents do?" Phoebe noticed that she hadn't taken a sip of her coffee. Doing so now, she grimaced at the cool liquid and then set it back down. "Or are they retired?"

"They own a vineyard." Lach waved a hand as if that wasn't a big deal, but it fascinated Phoebe. "It's not what they portray in the movies, Phoebe. It's hard work. Menial work. As a family, we all pitched in from sunup to sundown in the summers. Even during the school year our a.s.ses were up before dawn."

"Did you think I would judge you? Them? You make it sound like I wouldn't think your family was good enough." Phoebe's relaxed state went by the way of the front door. She felt a sense of indignation but tried her best to tamp it down. They were still getting to know each other. Hadn't he just called her a socialite? "Just because my father came from money doesn't mean I don't know how to work for a living. I do what is necessary to help those who don't-"

Phoebe had still been talking when Lach stood up, taking two steps to pick up her coffee mug. It wasn't until he leaned down to whisper in her ear that he had her teeth snapping shut. The warmth of his breath caressed her cheek, and instantly all thought fled from her mind.

"You're getting bent out of shape for no reason," Lach murmured after having placed one hand on the couch behind her. If she turned her head, their lips would touch. The magnetic pull was almost too much, and had he not spoken she would have made the first move. "I'll reheat your coffee. Join me in the kitchen while I make us dinner."

Chapter Twelve.

Lach heard the knock at the door, signaling John's arrival to take third shift. When Phoebe had first entered her apartment, the smartest thing for him to do would have been to stay outside in the hallway. She'd looked disheartened with the pace of the investigation and all he'd wanted to do was make her feel a little better. What should have been a five-minute talk had turned into hours, dinner, and more conversation. All this evening had done was make him want her more.

"That'll be John." Lach had switched to water a couple hours prior. Looking at his watch and seeing the ten o'clock hour, he truly couldn't believe the amount or how fast the time had pa.s.sed. He stood and walked his gla.s.s to the kitchen sink. When he looked up, it was to see Phoebe standing in her stocking feet with her arms wrapped around her waist just as she'd been earlier today. "Kimmie's in good hands. Whoever is threatening your father will slip up and it will be soon."

"The snow hasn't stopped yet." Phoebe was biting her lip and she had no idea how appealing she looked with her hair tucked behind her ears. "If you'd like, you can use the spare bedroom. I promise not to tie you up and have my way with you."

Lach gritted his teeth, not in anger, but in restraint. This was the third time she referred to taking control in the bedroom and while she had to know he was dominant through and through, she still prodded him. If she only knew how he really liked to have s.e.x with his woman, he wasn't so sure she wouldn't resort back to her typical socialite proper tendencies and show him the door.

"I live in the city, so I don't have to travel far." Lach didn't add on that if he had lived in the suburbs, he'd still get into his Land Cruiser and maneuver the treacherous roads. Being inside her apartment hadn't been the wisest choice, but he wasn't about to make the worst either. He walked to the door and took the time to look through the keyhole, a.s.suring himself that it was John. Lach swung the door open. "I'll be out in five to give you an update."

"Take your time," John replied, looking over Lach's shoulder.

He didn't have to be told that Phoebe had followed him into the foyer. Shutting the door, he turned around. Her left eyebrow was raised and had she been wearing gla.s.ses, she would have looked like a teacher about to give him a lecture. Knowing she'd eventually say what was on her mind, Lach took his time in getting his jacket from the coat rack.

"You resorted back to your ten word sentence," Phoebe said, as if he'd committed a sin. That was laughable when the sins he wanted to execute had nothing to do with his vocabulary yet everything to do with his mouth on her body. "You're really not as unfriendly as you look."

"I'm glad you think so." Lach shrugged into his jacket and made sure the collar laid just so. It was an old habit that was hard to break. He took his time thinking about what she'd said. They'd touched on his former career during dinner and he'd tried to keep it short and brief, not willing to relive or tell her how he'd f.u.c.ked up. His team members on the HRT had thought him friendly as well, until all h.e.l.l broke loose. "I say what needs to be said."

"Then thank you."

Phoebe was no longer holding onto her waist as if she were afraid to be alone. Lach felt confident that she would be fine on her own this evening and he didn't regret getting to know her a little better. It just made solving these threats all the more vital to their potential future. He wanted her total and complete submission. It was that simple. At this point it was just a matter of when.

"For?"

"For saying what needed to be said tonight...at length." Phoebe took a step closer and Lach curled his hands into fists to prevent reaching for her. "I enjoyed the company."

f.u.c.k it. Lach could see that Phoebe's eyes had traveled to his lips. She might as well have lowered her gaze to his c.o.c.k. He hardened at the thought of having her drop to her knees and take him in her mouth, but he knew this wasn't the time nor place. Once again, he reminded himself of his oath to Crest and Lach wouldn't break that. But that didn't mean he couldn't have a taste. He closed the distance between them and none too gently slipped his fingers into her hair, tilting her head just so.

"There will be a time when I won't leave this apartment," Lach murmured, his mouth inches from hers. He slowly kissed her bottom lip, tasting the wine she'd had after dinner. The culmination of the sweet, rich flavor greeted his tastebuds and he found he couldn't get enough. "I just hope you're able to handle what I want to give you."

Lach didn't give her time to answer as he sealed their lips together, exploring the hidden recesses of her mouth. Her tongue felt like silk as it came out to play. She gave as good as she got, never once letting him have the upper hand. He immediately wanted to take that challenge, and had he not been in full control he would have taken her up against the wall. As it was, she had no idea the lifestyle he truly led. It was something they'd have to discuss, but now wasn't that time. He slowly ended the kiss, pulling far enough away so that he could see her blue eyes clearly. They were darkened, just the way he liked.

"Get some rest. Tomorrow will be like any other day." Lach gradually released her and stepped back, making himself turn around and walk to the door. Before opening it, he spoke without looking at her. "I enjoyed tonight too, Phoebe, but it won't happen again until the Secret Service takes over. Your reputation and life mean more to me than a quick f.u.c.k."

Phoebe had anger running through her veins and there wasn't enough coffee in the world to wash the emotion out of her body. She walked into campaign headquarters, already bustling due to a debate her father had flown out for this morning, and walked directly through the bullpen and into her father's office. Last night had been simply amazing and Lach had to go and ruin it by having the last say before he'd walked out the door. A quick f.u.c.k? She threw her coat over a chair and yanked her gloves off.

She and Lach had spent hours getting to know one another and the more they'd revealed about their past, the closer she'd felt to him. He'd put distance between them when she'd brought up his time with the FBI. She'd immediately sensed it and tried to backpedal, but the moment was broken. Had he not kissed her so pa.s.sionately, she would have said that was why he'd said those parting words.

"Is there a reason you're acting like a cat who's been dumped into a bucket of water?"

At the sound of Lach's voice, Phoebe looked up from where she stood behind her father's desk. The fact that he looked like he'd had a peaceful night's rest and appeared more attractive today didn't improve her mood. She threw her gloves down and took a deep calming breath, knowing that people could see them through the window. It didn't escape her notice that Stewart and the young volunteers were intentionally leaning back in their chairs and observing their interaction. The additional oxygen didn't help her mood.

"If that's how you view me, Mr. McKinnon, then I'd watch out for my claws." Phoebe had made sure to paste a smile onto her lips so that the crew thought she was having a good morning. Gossip ran strong through these types of campaigns. Isn't that why Lach and she had postponed the inevitable, to keep her father's canva.s.s and the family name from being tarnished in the media? She had no doubt he knew how she felt about their relationship, yet he had the gall to basically say it would be a quick f.u.c.k like they'd had in Iraq. "They can be rather sharp."

Lach had the audacity to laugh, and while it only raised her anger to fury, it did get Stewart to turn around and focus on the phones, which was his job. In the mood she was in, she just might send him out in this cold weather to pa.s.s out flyers. As for Lach, he was too large for her to physically remove him but she could make d.a.m.n well sure that he didn't want to be in her vicinity today.

"I'm not seeing where humor comes into play." Phoebe waved her hand across the desk, making her point known. "I've got a lot of work to do and calls to make. Paul and Bill are traveling with my father, along with Connor and who knows how many members of his PSD. We're all safe and sound, following our schedules like good little pets. So if you'll excuse me?"

"No, Miss Socialite, I won't." Lach kept his smirk in place, but his eyes darkened to an almost pitch black and his jaw muscle ticked, warning her that what he was about to say was unmistakably important. "You have this annoying habit of running hot and cold, all the while implying that you have the upper hand should this continue any further than it already has. I'm here to tell you that when it comes to s.e.x, I'm in control and I will make d.a.m.n sure that both of us are satiated."

"You think you can do that with a quick f.u.c.k?" Phoebe asked, shooting the question at him as if she'd had her words loaded in the clip of a semi-automatic pistol. She recognized his surprise, but the words kept coming. "There's a reason why I have the type of personality I do and it's because men don't understand how to handle a woman with power."

"After spending time with me, I'm surprised you'd think I would have trouble handling any woman." Lach took a step forward, but as if realizing who was watching, he stopped and widened his stance. He crossed his arms in his usual fashion and she would have given anything to wipe that all knowing smile from his face. "To clarify, my reference to a quick f.u.c.k was to last night only. If I'd had a choice, I would have taken you up against the wall like the true animals that we are. Instead I chose to do the right thing. Call it a bad habit if you'd like, but I value my honor. And going back to last night's conversation, it's you that better be ready for when the Secret Service takes over your detail. We'll see how you like being declawed."

Phoebe's heart was racing at his promise of what was to come and her body responded in ways that she didn't know it could. Warmth spread through her lower region and she became breathless. If she didn't know any better, she'd say her panties had just become a little damp. A thousand thoughts were racing through her mind and she wasn't quite sure what to say to him. These eclectic emotions had definitely chased away her anger, but instead of feeling embarra.s.sed by the slight misunderstanding, all she wanted to do was call the Secret Service and have them start immediately.

"I-"

"Phoebe, I need to talk to you." Kimmie was in the doorway, unshed tears in her brown eyes all the while her chin was tilted in defiance. At that precise moment, Phoebe's cell phone rang. Looking down at her device that she'd placed on the desk, she saw that it was Timothy from Crescent. Her sister's plea contested the additional interruption. "Now."

"Lach, could I see you for a moment?" Ethan asked, standing behind Kimmie with rage written across his boyish face. There was no dimple to be seen. Phoebe's phone was still ringing and when Stewart came to the window, waving his hand that he had a question, she uncharacteristically looked Lach's way. "Now."

"I'll take care of Stewart, Phoebe." Lach's professional side came to the forefront, his directives short and to the point. She appreciated his a.s.sistance. "Ignore your phone and talk to your sister."

Just like that, Phoebe's cell stopped ringing. Kimmie dropped her tote like a ton of bricks and took a seat in one of the guest chairs. Lach stepped out of the office and quietly closed the door behind him. Stewart looked peeved, but after a short discussion with the two men he strolled back to his chair. Phoebe felt like she'd been frozen in time as the events unfolded, but eventually her hearing returned and she sat down in her father's chair when what she really wanted was to rewind one minute ago to where Lach was telling her she'd once again misunderstood him.

"What's wrong?" Phoebe asked, leaning forward on the desk. She glanced one more time out the window, zeroing her gaze on the flat screen television that Paul had installed in the bullpen. The campaign needed to know every announcement made regarding the primaries and candidates. Nothing was showing that would have Kimmie upset, so it must be personal. "Did something happen at the college?"

"The results are probably going to come in any day now, but I wanted you to hear it from me." Kimmie's leg bounced, which wasn't unusual given the amount of energy that she harnessed, but this time was different. This action was caused by worry and apprehension, setting Phoebe on guard. "I really thought this was the way to go about having Dad step down, but he's his usual stubborn self."

"What way?" Phoebe asked, intentionally delaying what she knew to be the answer. Dread settled into the depths of her stomach. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. She sat back in the chair and stared at the girl who would always be her baby sister. "Tell me anything other than what you're about to confess."

"I wrote the letters." Kimmie looked down at her hands, finally showing remorse over actions that would tear their father to shreds. Phoebe felt as if she'd just been knifed. "You need to understand, when Dad first said he was going to run, we both told him that it would make our daily lives h.e.l.l. You didn't want him to do this either. He was thinking of no one but himself."

"Kimmie, this is how he remembers Mom." Phoebe tucked her hair behind her ears, pausing to form the words correctly. Nothing she said would undo what had already unfolded, yet her mind scrambled for solutions. "Yes, he's moved on and started living his life again. He should. He's still a man and can still find someone to make him happy. But his entire career was based on Mom and the things they could do together. It morphed and this is something he loves. It's not up to us to decide his future. Do you know what this is going to do to him?"

Phoebe couldn't sit any longer as panic took hold, so she stood and pushed the desk chair back with her legs. Needing something to do, she walked toward the window to see what was happening out in the bullpen. Lach met her gaze and the long connection made her feel as if she wasn't so alone. Too bad that at the moment she was. She turned away and faced her sister once more.

"Have you thought about how this is going to affect us?" Kimmie reached up and pulled off her black knit hat. "Dad's not voted in for his party yet and I can't even attend parties at the college without having a guard next to my side. Imagine what my life will be like when he wins the primary. What if he becomes President? Have you thought about what that's going to do to you? To Crescent?"

"Which is why Dad asked us if we didn't want him going through with this," Phoebe reminded her sister. She leaned back against the window and bent her head. All she could think of was what this was going to do to their father. "I came all the way back from Iraq to have that discussion. We all agreed that we were okay with it."

"No," Kimmie argued, shaking her head. "You agreed. I tried telling both of you that this would kill any chance I have of starting a career. If Dad becomes President, who's going to want to hire me with the Secret Service following me around everywhere I go? It's hard enough to get a job nowadays and yet you two didn't give it a second thought."

"It might help you in your career as well." They were rehashing an old conversation when the real issue was that her sister had committed a crime. "Do you realize what you've done? When this. .h.i.ts the airwaves, the media is going to have a field day with this. Do you think you'll get hired then? Did you think of the consequences?"