Part 4 (1/2)

Chapter Nine.

Masters was in full swing as Lach walked through the entrance from the public reception room and into the members' only area, which separated the lounge from the velvet roped play areas. The pulsating Latin music that came over the speakers was just high enough to add to the atmosphere yet low enough that conversation could still be had comfortably. It was vital for the submissives to hear and understand what their Dominants were instructing them to do, as well as allowing the Doms to hear the pleas and cues of their subs. If a sub called out their safeword, play would immediately stop or the designated dungeon monitor would instantly pull the malefactor aside. He allowed the citrus orange fragrance along with the smell of leather to mingle and mix with his senses, giving him an awareness that he craved. Unfortunately, it did little for his c.r.a.ppy mood.

Lach didn't feel his muscles relax with the familiar change of atmosphere like they usually did, yet he still strolled across the floor to the bar in the members' lounge. He would salvage the rest of the night, even if it meant not partic.i.p.ating this evening. A good stiff drink was what he needed.

The only hitch that might have kept Lach and Ethan from attending the club tonight had been if they hadn't been allowed to have access to their phones. The policy of Masters was that cells were kept in the coatroom in the foyer, thus protecting the clientele from capturing anything on audio or video that could be used as blackmail. Connor had already cleared them to carry their phones due to the importance of the case they were working on.

”Did you tuck in your girl?” Jax asked from his position behind the bar. Lach looked around but didn't see Eden, the latest bartender. She might end up being a keeper the way she whipped up some of her drinks and treated the customers. She would have been better to have on the other side of the bar. Jax would just rib him until he was raw, causing Lach to say something he'd regret. ”Ethan called and wanted you to know that his primary decided to attend a party.”

Lach shook his head in sympathy, knowing Ethan wouldn't allow the night s.h.i.+ft PSD to deal with that alone. There were too many unknowns and unsecure situations that could occur. Lach would have been better off had he'd been a.s.signed to Kimmie. At least he knew what to expect with the younger woman. Phoebe had already changed personalities on him twice. This third time when he'd seen her safely tucked inside her apartment this evening had been just too d.a.m.n much. What the h.e.l.l did she mean by saying they should continue what they'd started in Iraq?

”Lach, would you come in for a moment?” Phoebe asked as they were walking down the hallway. Sam had gone ahead of them, letting himself in to start clearing her apartment. He was now situated in front of her door. ”I'd like to discuss something with you.”

”About the case?”

”No.” Phoebe's pause said all there was to say, yet she continued and confirmed why Lach had been feeling so uneasy all day. ”It's about us.”

”We've already been over that.”

”And I think we need to readdress our conversation,” Phoebe said in a low tone. They were four feet from where Sam was stationed when she'd stopped and forced him to do the same, facing her. ”You said so yourself. We had a miscommunication back in Iraq.”

”It doesn't matter what happened in Iraq.” Lach didn't like that they were standing in the hallway having this conversation, but he wasn't about to enter her apartment and be tempted to take her up on what she was offering. ”Our present situation has already dictated how we are going to proceed.”

”Again, I think we should change that. I want to change it.”

”Sucks for him,” Lach said, brus.h.i.+ng off the memory. He tried to act casual and make light conversation, while dragging his thoughts away from what had happened not thirty minutes prior. He leaned against the wooden counter of the bar, motioning toward his bottle of XXV single malt Glenlivet scotch whiskey that they kept behind the bar for his particular tastes. ”Hit me up.”

”You're not playing tonight?” Jax reached for a rocks gla.s.s, dropped in a freshly chilled stone, and pulled the cork stopper. As per the club rules, there was always a two drink maximum per client if he or she were going to play. Lach, however, had made it a personal directive not to drink at all if he was going to partic.i.p.ate in the activities here at the club and Jax knew it. As the gla.s.s received his usual two fingers, Lach didn't even bother to look and see who was partic.i.p.ating. Recalling Phoebe's parting words as he made sure she was safely ensconced in her apartment, Sam situated outside her door, had his mood deteriorating rapidly. ”Casey has been asking about you.”

”She's too f.u.c.king timid.” Lach preferred a submissive who knew what she wanted and was accepting of her s.e.xuality. Sh.e.l.ley was a prime example of knowing and accepting. Flint had his wife bound to the St. Andrew's cross and was slowly working her over with a flogger. Her shoulders were held back with pride, yet with just a glance over his shoulder, he could see from across the room that she was trembling with arousal. Brie was the same way, and as Nick utilized the suspension beam, her eyes were s.h.i.+ning as she was tied and bound beautifully in s.h.i.+bari. ”I was hoping Lindsay would be here.”

”Really?” Jax sat the short heavy gla.s.s in front of Lach and then leaned against the counter. Lach had no idea why he'd thrown out Lindsay's name, but now he could just kick himself in the a.s.s. Phoebe had messed with his mind and he wasn't in the mood to be here. The only reason he'd shown up was because he'd told Ethan he would and had hoped that being here would set his head on straight. Now that his friend was stuck at work, that meant he could slam the expensive scotch and leave. ”She doesn't strike me as your type.”

”How's Emily and Derrick?” Lach asked, changing the subject and giving himself the time to finish his drink. A soft cry could be heard from across the room, along with the soothing yet stern tones of the sub's Dom, but Lach continued to lead Jax into another direction. ”I'm surprised you're here tonight.”

Lach didn't want to get into what type of woman he preferred, especially since he couldn't get a certain blonde off of his mind. Instead he'd get Jax to talk about his family. As Jax filled him in on Eden calling in sick and continued to discuss his son's first steps along with droning on about baby teeth and sleep schedules, Lach glanced around the area one more time. The semi-private sitting areas of the commons that were separated by plants and ferns were being occupied by the regular clientele, as were nearly all of the play stations. He reminded himself this was what he was comfortable with, not some formal social setting where he'd be made to wear a tie like some kind of noose. That thought caught him off guard and it wasn't until he heard his name repeated that he realized Jax had asked him a question.

”I hate when you do that.”

”Do what?” Lach asked before he took a sip of the amber liquid, sucking it into his mouth and closing his eyes to savor the rich release of spices that developed into a dark chocolate, hinting of orange peel essence. He then took a large swallow, much to his shame. The faster he got it down, the quicker he got to leave.

”Ask a question so that someone else talks.” Jax pushed up off of the bar top and grabbed a hand towel. ”It's a d.i.c.k move.”

”It works.” Lach flashed a quick smile, not feeling guilty in the least. It suddenly hit him that Jax had dealt with a similar issue with Emily. His wife had come back into his life, changing his everyday reality. Lach contemplated running his issues with Phoebe by him, but then decided against it. They were friends, but they weren't close like Jax was with Connor. h.e.l.l, after Lach's cl.u.s.terf.u.c.k with his previous job, he'd disconnected all ties to any friends he'd had back then. All of these memories being dug up were because of Phoebe and he just didn't have time for any of it. ”I appreciate the whiskey, but I've got some files to go over.”

”Kevin's SITREP?”

”Yes.” Lach took that out, knowing full well that Kevin had turned in his interview with Victor Ward. Jax didn't know that Lach had already read it thoroughly and that Victor had made it clear he was only driving by to check up on his daughter. Lach wasn't so sure that was the case, but Kevin reported that there was no evidence against his claim. ”Give Emily a kiss for me.”

”Over my dead body,” Jax said good-naturedly. Lach did appreciate that his team members didn't push him too hard to join in their social group, giving him time to acclimate to the new agency. CSA was a h.e.l.l of a lot different than the FBI and Lach respected the military brother and sisterhood they'd recreated as opposed to the inst.i.tution that was the FBI. ”Well, you'll find my SITREP in your box as well. It's rather remarkable, but the interested parties came up negative.”

Lach hadn't seen Jax's report and he now felt a pressing need to go review it. It gave him something to do besides thinking of Phoebe. It wasn't like he and Jax would discuss a case of such importance in front of civilians, but his words indicated that he'd found something noteworthy. Before Lach could turn to go, his phone vibrated.

”I've got a call coming in.”

Lach didn't need to say anything more. Jax knew that he wouldn't take the call inside the club. He slapped the counter and then turned, walking through the crowd that was gathering. He ignored the mewing submissives that tried to capture his attention and finally made it out to the reception area where it was safe to pull out his phone. A text displayed across the screen that included Phoebe's codename and the message made his chest tighten, regardless of the rea.s.surance attached to the sentence.

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

”What the h.e.l.l 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 s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 relations.h.i.+p, G.o.d knew how he'd use that against her. He didn't like that her father valued her opinion but that was just tough s.h.i.+t for him to deal with.

Due to the late hour, Phoebe had been able to park her vehicle right out front. She pressed the b.u.t.ton 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 h.e.l.l 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 relations.h.i.+p. 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 d.a.m.n 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 f.u.c.king 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.”