Unwrapped: Clear Security's Holiday (Clear Security Holiday Book 2)

by Ainsley St Claire

  “We have a crew going through the house,” Jim confirms. “It may be hard to tell which devices are hers and which belong to the FBI. The video can help with that. I had the cleaning crew pull the sheets and bag them as evidence. I’ve ordered replacements.”

  I rub my palms on my pants. I don’t know why, but I can’t look Jim in the eye. It’s like when I was fifteen and telling my dad I was sexually active. “There’s a chance my DNA may be on those sheets.”

  Jim looks at me carefully. He runs his hands through his short hair. “I know she presents herself as this wild and crazy woman, but she’s a fragile baby bird. You fuck her over, and that would mean the end of us.”

  I’m shocked at Jim coming to her defense. I hold up my hands. “I like her—probably more than I should—and it’s not my intention to hurt her.”

  Jim stands up and walks out of his office. “I want it to be clear.”

  My jaw drops. “Crystal.”

  I don’t know why Jim has left me in his office rather than kicking me out. Needing to keep myself busy, I walk out into the common room and start pulling together an impromptu meeting about Hunter Anderson.

  I have three of the sharpest analysts on this project. The CIA recruited Christine Lang out of the University of Colorado, and her mind is so quick that often I have to ask her to slow down. Miles Carpenter went to the Naval Academy and was an analyst for several Seal teams. He can get a group in and out. We’re lucky whoever was behind the break-in at Fiona’s wasn’t as good as Miles. And Thomas Turner is a Berkley dropout. He’s a hacker, and if the FBI knew his handle, they’d arrest him for assorted legal infractions. Gage found him last year and is working to help him do more good than harm.

  “Tell me what you’ve learned about Jennifer DeMille, Hunter’s deceased girlfriend,” I ask as we sit down.

  “She graduated from MIT two years ago with a degree in electrical engineering and an emphasis in software development,” Christine says. “She began dating Hunter, who was on MIT’s football team—”

  “They have a football team?” Thomas interrupts.

  “Yes,” she says. “They play in the Ivy League.”

  “Wait. That’s a real league for sports?” Thomas pushes.

  That gets an eye roll from Christine.

  “Okay, you guys, we can talk about this later.” I need to keep this on track. “Back to Jennifer.”

  “They came up with their company as part of a class their senior year.” Christine consults her notes. “Their professor hooked them up with a venture capital firm here in the Bay Area.”

  “Which one?” I ask.

  “Sullivan Healy Newhouse.”

  “Oh right. Mason Sullivan was at the arraignment and posted bail.” I look around the room. “What about medical?” I ask.

  “We don’t have that yet. I expect it later today,” Christine says.

  “Stomach contents?” I prompt.

  “We’re waiting for the drug results, but everything looks as described,” Christine says.

  Next on the list. “What about The John Riley Company?”

  “They’re next to go public behind Distinctive Technology,” Gage says. “John Riley is a force and owns most of the company. He shares little with his employees. He’s aggressive with women and has two sexual assault arrests that were both eventually dropped.”

  “Do we know who the women are?” I ask.

  “Still waiting. I should have that later today,” Gage assures me.

  I look around the room. “Anything else?” I ask. “You guys have had over seventy-two hours with this. I expected a lot more. Come on. Let’s dig in. This is a priority. If someone comes to you and wants your attention, send them to Jim or me. Got it?”

  “Yes,” they all murmur.

  “I want to meet at the end of the day today and get some updates. I’m meeting with Hunter’s counsel tomorrow morning, and I want to have something for him.”

  They nod and file out. Gage remains behind.

  “I’ve never seen you so worked up about an investigation before. Is everything okay?”

  “I’m not the one sleeping in the bunks,” I note as a bit of a deflection. “How are you doing?”

  “Stella is pregnant again. She’s so pissed. She had the depo shot, and we were using condoms.”

  I shake my head. “I guess that was one determined motherfucker, then.”

  “No shit. I never saw myself with even one kid, and now I have three and another one on the way. She tells me I can’t come home until I’ve had a vasectomy.”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “I just look at her and she gets pregnant.”

  “You know, if you two implode and we have to choose, it doesn’t matter how tight you are and how far you go back with Jim. Stella holds this place together, and I think the company would take her over you.”

  “I know that. I’d pick Stella over the company any day.”

  “So, have you looked into the surgery?”

  “I’m trying to muster the strength.”

  “You have four kids more than you ever thought you’d have. Why would you care if you could have more?” Gage is a shell of a man right now, his eyes have dark circles underneath them, and he looks like shit. “If you make the appointment, maybe Stella will go with you.”

  He nods. “Thanks.”

  “Speak of the devil, here’s your blushing bride.” Stella also looks like shit, but she’s smiling and pretending nothing is wrong.

  “She won’t marry me,” he says, hurt dripping from his words.

  I turn and look at him, my brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  “Her mom was married six times, and she feels like it was always good until they got married, so she won’t marry me.”

  “Go to your woman. Tell her you’re getting an appointment. You miss her terribly and you miss your girls. And hopefully, she’ll let you go home. You can’t get her pregnant again for another eight or so months anyway.”

  Gage’s face lights up. He’s so tired maybe he hadn’t put that together.

  “But don’t make the appointment this afternoon,” I remind him. “I need the info on The John Riley company.”

  He smiles and stands a little straighter as he walks over to Stella’s office. I return to my office, and I can see them through the glass, hugging. Stella’s crying. I do hope those are tears of joy.

  If not, I’m out of here.

  Chapter 12

  Fiona

  The FBI is gone now, but I can’t concentrate today. I let out a breath of air and drop my pen onto my desk. I have an overwhelming urge to sell my condo. The fact that they broke in and planted devices—and while Bash may think he blocked my view as the asshole planted one in my shower, I saw it. I feel positively violated.

  “Walker Clifton is on line two for you.”

  I shake it off and prepare to concentrate on this call. “Hey, Walker. What’s up?”

  “I’m so sorry about the FBI showing up this morning without their warrant.”

  “They visit each time I see my dad. He’s dying, and we’ve said our piece, so maybe they’ll leave me alone now. Well, maybe after I settle his estate in Ireland they’ll leave me be.”

  “I’m sorry you’re stuck with his mess. Your father has taken responsibility for so much, and he hasn’t shared anything with anyone. Some in the bureau are just desperate.”

  “I understand, and I’ll tell you this as my friend. My father has never told me anything about his business in the US. He did that to secure my safety. He wanted to be sure no one would harm me.”

  “Does that mean after he dies you’ll be in danger?”

  “I don’t think so,” I assure him. “My dad continues to run his domain from jail, but he can’t go to meetings. I doubt he knows much of what’s going on with the cause in Ireland anymore. Most of the players have moved to the second generation.”

  “Okay, well, anyway, as I said, I’m sorry about the guys who entered your
house without a warrant. I saw the video, and we’ve collected the sheets and the devices from Jim’s team. I think they may have collected a few of your personal devices, too. You’ll need to come by and look.”

  “I can do that.” I look out the window and watch the cable car climb California Street. I may not have a high-priced view of the water, but I do have a great vista of what makes San Francisco great. “Those guys were working off the books for someone. The question is who.”

  “They’ve been arrested.”

  My heart stops. “Why?”

  “Because what they did was illegal.”

  “But how are you going to find out who was behind this if they know you’re on to them?”

  “These guys are family men. They have pensions. They’re easily persuaded to talk—more than you’d think.”

  I sigh loudly. This is a fucking mess. The IRA was probably behind this. They want to know what my father said to me. They want to be sure he didn’t pass any information on. “I should tell you that I had a guest Friday night, and I hadn’t washed the sheets. We used condoms, but I’m sure his DNA will be on the bedding.”

  “I’ll make note of that. I know this is hard, Fi. You don’t deserve this.”

  “Thanks, Walker.”

  “There’s another reason for my call. Things are heating up with me personally. You did all the background on me for opposition research, so you know where my political rivals will have an advantage. I’m looking at approaching someone socially who you vetted in my background.”

  I try to recall all the people we looked at. His father was the biggest threat. I researched the housekeeper and her family, several of his past teachers, women he dated and worked with. The list was long. “Who are you referring to?”

  “Marcella Peterson.”

  Mic drop. She’s a rock star in the defense world of white-collar crime. They have a love-to-hate-you relationship. I can’t see that happening. “Are you sure? I don’t think she’ll be easy to sway toward getting involved.” Walker has been told he needs a partner as he pursues his political ambitions.

  “I saw her over the weekend at a family gathering, and I think I can talk her into it.”

  “The party won’t like her. She’s independent and smart. They can’t control her.”

  “But she’s beautiful, and I have a non-sordid history with her, so it will be easier to sell.”

  “She’s not your typical type; I’ll give you that.” I let out a big breath. I liked the background I did on Marci. She was everything he needs in a woman, but his dating history doesn’t include many strong women, and I can see the two of them going rounds. But that’s for him to sort out. “You know the risks,” I tell him. “Let me know if I can be of any help.”

  ***

  My day zips by at a rapid clip, and six thirty arrives faster than I’m prepared for. Bash and I have another meeting with Damien in the morning, and I realize I haven’t gotten any new information from my team.

  I wander out to Maureen’s cubicle. “Hey, how are things going with Hunter and Jenn’s email?”

  “You have it in your inbox. I pulled out the recognizable business communications where others were carbon copied. They’re on the cloud in a folder.”

  Great. “Thanks. I’ll look them over tonight,” I call over my shoulder as I walk back to my office.

  As I shut down the dozens of applications I have open, Shannon pokes her head in. “There’s a very handsome man here to pick you up. If you don’t leave with him, I will.” She winks at me, and given Shannon’s history, I believe she would try. But I feel confident Bash will wait for me.

  “Send him back.”

  Seconds later, he’s at my door. He fills the doorway, and my breath catches. He’s handsome and damn, is he built. My engine revs up as I remember Saturday night. My hormones are looking for a repeat.

  “Hey,” he says. “Are you almost ready? I have reservations at Poisson just off Union Square, and I thought we might wander around and see the lights. But if your heels are too much for a walk, we can go back to my place.”

  “I should be fine.” I start stuffing things into my bag. “Are you ready for Damien in the morning?”

  “I have updates. Some issues are still open, and we can only press so hard, but I have some information. I will allow us to talk about it after we order until dinner arrives. Otherwise, we’re going to relax and get to know one another this evening.”

  I smirk. “You sure can be bossy.”

  “You didn’t mind me being bossy Saturday night.”

  He’s right. I didn’t mind at all. As long as he’s making me feel good, I’ll do anything he asks. I can’t look at him, but I can feel my nipples pebbling beneath my leather bra.

  After I’m packed up, we walk out of the office and take the elevator to the garage below the building. Bash unlocks a metal box where the spare tire should sit in his Range Rover. “Put your purse, phone, and bag in here. I want to valet the car, and I don’t want them to have any access.”

  “I may need my purse at dinner—or if I see something I want.”

  “I’ve got you covered. You’ll be just fine.” He raises his eyebrow, waiting for me to put my belongings in. His stuff seems to be already in there.

  I finally relent. “I hope you’re prepared for me to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

  “I’ll be disappointed if you order anything less than what you want.”

  As he pulls on to the road, I realize I’m not used to being with a gentleman. I can’t even remember the last time I had a decent date. This whole thing is a bit surreal. I’m used to maybe a drink, splitting a meal, or just scratching an itch.

  When we arrive, we get out of the car, and I do feel a bit lost and naked without my phone. I try to steady my breath. It’s not like the world will end if I can’t answer a call. We walk in, and the restaurant is bright and loud, full of people celebrating and enjoying their evening. I stop myself from looking for my purse.

  Bash leans in and kisses my temple. “You’re fine without your phone for a few hours. I’m going to distract you.”

  We’re shown to seats next to a giant tank of exotic fish. Bash hooks his thumb toward the tank. “I hope the portions are bigger than these guys.”

  I smile and feel instantly more at ease. We sit, and the menu is pretty simple, with maybe twenty things. The waiter approaches and gives us the specials, which include cioppino. It’s one of my favorites—seafood stew that’s cooked all day, with warm, crusty, San Francisco sourdough bread to soak up all the excellent broth. I’ve made a decision. We order drinks, and I start with an Irish whiskey. Bash orders the same and adds a bottle of sauvignon blanc with dinner.

  I lean in. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  “No. I need you to consent to what I have planned tonight. If you don’t want to drink it all, that’s fine with me.”

  My core clenches. I want him. Before I jump him here at the table, I need to distract myself. “What have you learned about Hunter?”

  Bash holds his hand up and puts his menu down. “After we order. I take it you’ve decided. The steak and lobster appear to be the most expensive.”

  “I don’t feel like such a heavy meal. I’m going with a personal favorite instead.”

  Bash grins. “You look beautiful again today.”

  I look away. Men usually say that to get into my pants. Why should he be any different?

  “You know, I have a guest room,” he says after a moment. “Would you feel more comfortable staying there?”

  I look at him, confused. He doesn’t want to have sex? “I don’t have to go home with you at all, if you don’t want me to.”

  He reaches across the table. “You’re coming home with me, and I’m good with whatever you want. I realize today was traumatic, and I want to give you a pressure-free environment. We can just hang out, if that’s what you want. But trust me, I will have major blue balls with you under the same roof, knowing your luscio
usness is so close.”

  His honesty is refreshing. “You are a sweet talker, aren’t you?”

  Before he can answer, the waiter arrives to deliver our drinks and take our order. I turn down a salad starter.

  “Do you eat raw oysters?” Bash asks.

  I nod with a giant grin. “I love them.”

  His eyes sparkle as he orders a dozen Malpeque oysters from PEI and the cioppino. “I couldn’t resist. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “Mine, too.”

  After taking my order, the waiter departs, and Bash raises his drink. “To finding what’s below your leather armor.”

  I giggle. “I think you already know the answer.”

  He winks at me. “Before we revisit that, let’s clear the business off the table. For our meeting tomorrow, I’ve learned from my team that Jennifer had a prescription for Zoloft.”

  “So, she was taking an antidepressant. That’s not a big deal. A lot of people take antidepressants.”

  “But none was found in her stomach contents.”

  I sit back in my chair. Why would someone not take her antidepressant? You can take Zoloft even when you’re trying to get pregnant. Why wouldn’t it have been in her system? The side effects of rolling on and off that kind of medication have enormous consequences. “Could she have pulled the antidepressant because they were going to take hallucinogenic mushrooms?”

  “We’re waiting on blood and hair samples that will show us almost to the day when she last took her medication.”

  I nod. “As I’m sure you know, taking an antidepressant intermittently comes with extreme highs and lows that could make anyone suicidal.”

  Bash nods.

  “Do we know why Detective Leong was so reluctant to let me see my client and wanted to listen to our conversation?”

  “We’re still chasing that.”

  “Do you think he’s followed in his parents’ footsteps and gone into Mah-Wing?”