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“Who owns these cameras?”
“It was budgeted in so technically you and your father do.” Even though he wasn’t there, I could hear the wariness in his voice. He wasn’t sure where the change in focus had come from.
“Awesome,” I said immediately moving past Decker and power walking down the hall toward the maintenance closet off the kitchen. I felt my grin grow more genuine when I heard Jack asking Decker what he thought I was going to do. I’d expected to be followed as I wrenched the closet door open, but when I didn’t hear footsteps behind me, I ratcheted up my energy. Besides, they had every inch covered. I doubted they weren’t following me as I gripped the can I’d plucked from the closet and stormed back toward my own bedroom.
Grabbing a chair from the antique writing desk against the wall, I positioned it under the offensive orb attached to the wall. Then, I gave the can a shake, reveling in the sound of the metal balls inside the can clicking as I prepped my spray paint. I wasn’t even aware I’d grabbed an obnoxious red paint until I lifted the can and coated the entire glass dome in the bright liquid as well as a section of my wall and ceiling.Will have to get that fixed before leaving, I thought to myself with a slight cringe before stepping down off the chair and looking up to admire my work.
It wasn’t pretty at all and stood out hideously against the soft greens and grays of the room I’d come to think of as a home away from home. Bright red, almost bloody looking paint, dripped from the camera and ran slightly down the wall.
“Well, I’m going to say it,” came an unfamiliar voice from the doorway, “you’re no Banksy.” I turned my head toward the voice and raised an eyebrow at the newcomer. His hair was expensively styled much like Decker’s, but where the man I wanted to strangle had dark, almost black hair, this man had golden locks styled back, a full beard to match.
The thick and perfectly maintained facial hair seemed to fit perfectly with the hard muscles obviously contained under the white dress shirt he was wearing, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, displaying an intriguing map of inked art across both arms. He looked like a mix between a viking, a biker, and a playboy. A combination that would leave any woman drooling the second he strolled into a room. I was thankful my mouth was shut already so I didn’t have to check for drool at the corner of my mouth as I finally registered his words.
“Maybe not, but it gets the job done.” I set the spray paint down on the writing desk and crossed my arms over my chest defiantly. “I wouldn’t suggest replacing it. I’ll just do the same to the others and you guys still have audio.” I gave a completely fake shrug of innocence. “Unless that’s your kink.”
The viking let his head fall back as a booming laugh echoed around the room. It was full of legitimate humor, and I felt myself smile in response. “I’m so glad we took this job,” he said when his laughter had quieted, eyes focusing back on me while glittering with amusement. He stepped closer and held out his hand. “Aiden Cabot, and I can honestly say it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Cabot.
My mind replayed the conversation with Mullins in which he’d given this man’s name as part owner of the company. I gave his hand a quick, hard shake before letting my own fall to my hip. “Lake Harrington, and sorry I can’t get on board with your pleasure there, Cabot. I’m feeling extremely suffocated by all of this, and I’m half tempted to just make my escape to some lone island until this person moves on.” I rubbed my hand down my face in frustration, not even caring if I was smudging my damn makeup. I was so over this.
Aiden gave a distracted nod as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and rocked back on his heels as he studied the garish red mess on the wall. “I’m going to cut the shit and give it to you bluntly, Ms. Harrington. This person doesn’t seem like a troll who will get bored and move on to another person to remotely terrorize from the sidelines. The individual who sent those letters and texts was someone goal oriented and dedicated to their cause.” He cut his gaze to me as a shiver ran down my spine. “I have a feeling they will make hunters out of us before the end.” With a small shrug, he played it off as no big deal. “You’ll most likely be here for a while since we have tracking to do, and it's easier to keep you in one spot than it is to devote resources out constantly while you travel.” He nodded his head toward the dripping red paint. “I approve of your ability to spar with the boss and get under his skin. I can tell you’re the type of woman who will only concede control on her own terms. It’s that quick wit and stubborn pride that’s going to make this fun, Ms Harrington.” He flashed me a smile that beamed under the beard and mustache and turned for the door.
“Call me Lake, please.” I called out before he could disappear around the corner. The only response was him giving a lazy two fingered salute before he was gone, and I was left to process his words. Every other man so far had tiptoed around the information of the unknown entity they were hunting. Mullins and Fitz and even Jack Kasey had sort of brushed it off. But Aiden Cabot had just told me more in those few sentences than I’d been given since pulled into this nightmare. Had that only been this morning? I refused to think about the fact that Aiden had said this would be “fun” as I closed the door to the bedroom and leaned against the door, taking in the room that had once been a sanctuary.
It was hard to feel that anymore, especially with the bright red paint marring the soft decor of the rest of the room. That blight on the wall was just like the blight on my life in the form of threats and being followed. I was angry that I’d been pulled into my father’s issues, but even in that I worried. My father probably had the same threats and not once had I even thought about how he was handling it. Probably because I’d never been able to put myself in my father’s shoes. He was always so polished and put together, never breaking that professional sternness that made him perfect for politics.
If anything bothered him, I’d never see it and I knew that. Best not to concern myself with the inner workings of Robert Harrington. I’d only end up more irritated at the world, and I really had to stop trying to take it out on the men charged with my protection. It was as much their fault as mine, which was a solid zero. “Going to be here for a while. Great,” I mumbled, getting to work at unpacking the bags brought up by Evan earlier. I had wanted to get lost in the activity of unpacking, but it was over too soon and I still felt itchy with unease.
At least I could wash off two plane rides and a mini road trip, then maybe I could get in contact with Scout about work before she was under the too watchful eye of my security team. Then again, they probably knew all about my work if they’d been as good at digging up information as I’d been at hiding it. As I shut the door to my bathroom and began to strip, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. But how could they know to dig, if they didn’t know anything was buried?
CHAPTER 7
DECKER
“This is getting extremely irritating,” Cabot said, shaking his head as he read one of the screens displaying the police report for the stolen Prius. One of the many rooms in the house, this one looking like some old fashioned smoking room, had been turned into a command post of sorts. Kasey sent out all the tech they’d need to have to match their investigation. Large monitors were mounted on rolling posts, positioned around the room to work as his version of investigation boards. The row of computers was occupied by a few men as Cabot, Turner, Fitz and I all focused our attention on a screen that was split between a police file and a real time video conference with Kasey.
“Did we really expect whoever is doing this to be driving their own car with plates on display? They’ve been careful with all other aspects in this from forensic to cyber. Either someone is very skilled or pays people who are very skilled.” Fitz bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicked from one screen in front of him to another, committing every word on every screen to memory as if each little punctuation helped him build a profile on who we were looking for.
“I didn’t expect someone to reach out to Lake directly,” Cabot answered, stroking his beard with a squint of concentration.
He wasn’t alone in that surprise. Yes, we’d prepared for the eventuality of someone making contact with her or trying to get to her. It was the damn job after all. But somewhere in the depths of my imagination, I had figured it was just talk to scare Robert Harrington into doing whatever they wanted. A baseless threat that would have made him the bigger priority. Lake was nothing but a pawn in this, and I felt an unfamiliar urge to protect her far beyond my job description. I wanted to hide her away, kill anyone that came near. I was blaming the triggers and guilt that accompanied my PTSD as I ignored all of my darker urges to focus on the conversation in front of me.
“It’s that and the tail on her that makes me wonder,” Fitz let his words trail off, like he was wondering too much to stay in the conversation.
After too many long moments with no follow up, I let out a breath of unexpected irritation. “Wonder what?” My question sounded harsher than intended, even to my own ears. Instead of being startled or angry at my tone, Cabot, Fitz and Kasey all turned their attention to me with knowing looks. I was going to kick all their asses.
“It makes me wonder if this is really something political, like we were led to believe in the beginning.” Fitz took a seat on the deep leather chesterfield sofa that had been moved to the side of the room to make space for the electronics.
Kasey began typing furiously, the sound of keys clacking filling up the room louder than the three silent men working on keyboards in the actual room. His gaze seemed to shoot between too many places at once, making him look as if he were watching an insane ping pong match. “What are you seeing, Fitz?” he asked finally, obviously unable to detect it on his own.
“Eagle’s team hasn’t had even ahintof a car following or a personal text,” Fitz said, referring to the former senator, his tone a very practiced neutral. He sounded like a professor, attempting to guide pupils to the correct line of thought.
And damn, did he have a point. I started to think back to how much emphasis was put on protecting Lake, the former Senator demanding all owners in the company personally see to her protection and taking the rest of my team. Not that they weren’t as skilled, but Robert Harrington had made a point to push more protection onto his daughter. I knew what Fitz had just seen. Not one thing had been going wrong for Robert, but Lake had been targeted twice.
“Kasey,” I barked into the silence that had fallen over the room. “Get a side by side of the letters sent to Harrington. I need them in order of delivery.” With the tech wizard’s fast fingers, the screens in front of us pulled up the various letters sent to Robert Harrington.
“Son of a bitch,” Fitz muttered as he stood and skimmed the letters, following them down the row of screens. Anyone could have asked for clarification, but I saw the pattern and after a breath of a curse from Cabot, he’d noticed too. The only one who seemed to be in the dark was Turner, who had been silent until that moment.
