The Corrupt Trilogy

by Penelope L'Amoreaux

Mariel was on a timer, she knew. She would need to wipe the hard drive or Mark would know she had been snooping through Bill’s old files.

  She pulled up Bill’s accounts. Unsurprisingly, the reports that showed money leaving for unknown accounts were already deleted. The numbers looked butchered. Whoever had tampered with the accounting software had lowered incoming amounts of money so that the missing money wouldn’t be obvious. Of course, all it would take would be a subpoena for the campaign’s main bank to issue statements that would show that a very different amount of money was coming in—and leaving.

  Sensing a dead end, Mariel went into Bill’s e-mail account. Most of it was the standard office back and forth. She even saw an e-mail between Bill and another office worker talking about how cute she was. If there had been time to blush, she would have.

  Scanning, she quickly became frustrated. If it was Bill, he seemed to know how to cover his tracks well.

  Then, it hit her. If he was the kind of guy who let his e-mail open on a saved account, he was probably not the kind of guy to regularly empty his computer’s trash cans. She opened the ‘deleted’ folder in the e-mail.

  Jackpot.

  There was one email a month to him for almost a year. She clicked one open.

  Bill,

  I think there is a problem with some of our accounts. I am sure you are doing a great job, but Dallas has discovered a possible leak to our campaign financial accounts. While it looks like we are secure, I’d like to divvy up some of our accounts, to prevent campaign money from being stolen.

  As I’m sure you’ve gathered, this is an extremely delicate situation. I’m creating multiple campaign accounts to keep pockets of our money safe. I’ve hired a separate accountant for these transactions, not because of anything you’ve done, but because I think it is best we keep all of this as secure as we can.

  We have been on the campaign trail for a long time, friend, and I know that you are aware of how nasty and corrupt it can get. This is a precaution, so that we can keep fighting to clean up Washington’s act.

  Please remove e-mails and traces of money movement from the accounts. If it is someone in the office, we need to cover our bases.

  You’re one of the good ones, Bill.

  Roger

  Mariel gasped. It was from Roger’s e-mail, she verified in the company’s network. Below the message was a dollar amount and wiring information for an unknown account titled only “donations.”

  If she was working in accounting, or under a lot of stress, and Roger had asked her to move money to a donations account, Mariel realized she might have done it without thinking. Each e-mail was like that, with accounts titled “donations,” or “conferences,” or something ambiguous that read like a normal campaign expense. The amounts, too, were planned so that they never seemed over the top for what Roger was claiming they were for. But they added up, quickly.

  Mariel knew it wasn’t the truth, though. Dallas had been completely unaware of the laundering. The e-mail was devious. It played on Bill’s loyalty. He’d move the money thinking he was doing good, doing what Roger asked him to.

  What Roger asked him to.

  That was the part that had ice water sludging through Mariel’s veins. The e-mail came from Roger, there was no doubt. So he not only knew about the money laundering. He was the one making it happen and trying to cover his tracks.

  A surge of nausea rocked her as she thought about telling Dallas. Dallas, who’d worked so hard to protect his brother, who’d devoted his life and sacrificed his own happiness to support Roger. This would be devastating to him.

  There was no way not to tell him, though. If she didn’t show him what she found, she knew Dallas would be like a hound with a scent; he would find out through his own methods, and leave chaos in his tracks.

  Fingers trembling, she hit “Print.”

  Rushing to the copy room, Mariel’s body didn’t relax until she saw that it was empty. She quickly grabbed all of the e-mails from the printer, her hands shaking and crumpling the pages as she clutched them to herself. She hid them in her office with the other papers.

  Knowing there wasn’t time for anything else, she began to wipe the computer. There might be something else there, but she didn’t have any more time. Not until she showed Dallas the emails. Not until she could try her best to pick up the aftermath of her discovery.

  * * * *

  “It isn’t him. It can’t be.”

  Dallas had all but torn up the emails when Mariel showed them to him. They were lingering after hours again, having waited until the office was cleared to talk.

  “I know that it’s hard to believe. But that’s clearly his email account. It’s signed by him.”

  “He wouldn’t do something like this.”

  “Do you think he knows something we don’t, then? Like maybe there is a mole in the office?”

  Mariel was reluctant to think that maybe Roger was hiding that from Dallas in an effort to shield his younger brother. Right or wrong, they had both accepted Dallas’s place in the family tree. And Dallas was good at it. Or had felt like it, until this point. She could see the exhaustion and concern pulling at the features of his face, in his posture.

  “No. I want to believe that, but he wouldn’t. Roger knows how I feel about this stuff. He would want me to have looked into a mole a long time ago. Hell, if he thought our office was corrupt, he might have fired me. We might be brothers, but he’s always wanted this life. He wouldn’t let anyone stop him from politics, not even family.”

  It worried Mariel to see Dallas so lost and torn. The man she desired, that she admired, was ruthless and exacting. In control. This was pulling the rug from under him, and briefly she feared he might not recover.

  “What are you going to do, then?”

  “We’re going to have to show Roger. I need to know it wasn’t him.”

  “And if it was?”

  Steel flashed in Dallas’s eyes, as comforting and familiar as it was terrifying. “Then he and I have a lot to talk about.”

  A shiver racked Mariel’s body, but from lust or fear she wasn’t sure. His face, stark and beautiful, was full of fury. If she had been concerned, even for an instant, that he wouldn’t recover, then she had been an idiot. Dallas Taylor was finding that inner resolve and control that had been nurtured within himself all of his life.

  Someone was testing his mettle, whether they knew it or not.

  That someone was going to pay, and dearly.

  Chapter Twelve

  The weekend came. Mere weeks before she had been a naive intern, facing each day with less hope than the day before. Now she was arranging a catered dinner in a wealthy D.C. apartment, her boss-turned-lover pacing near her.

  The dinner was for Roger. Dallas had decided to confront him with the emails.

  “I’m no good at espionage, E.B. Direct works best for me. I can control all of the pieces on the board.”

  It was probably the best course of action, but she worried about Dallas. This was his brother, the one person he had devoted his life to. If it turned out Roger knew about the laundering, she couldn’t begin to fathom the fallout.

  When the table looked perfect, she showed him. “How’d I do?”

  Quickly he went around and switched a few forks around. “Close. It looks nice. Here, let me show you.” He explained the world of fancy silverware to her. She didn’t mention that she had grown up with only random mismatched silverware that they had to wash after every meal. If he didn’t care about her lack of knowledge about the more refined things in life, she would work hard not to care about his upbringing, with shrimp forks and ballroom fundraisers.

  As she furrowed her brows, trying to remember what he was teaching her, she felt him slip his hands around her waist. Dallas jerked her to him, crushing her against his strong, tall body.

  “You’re amazing.”

  The familiar flush began to creep up her neck and cheeks. Dallas Taylor didn’t give compliments. “Oh gee, I bet
you say that to all of the interns.”

  His smirked, swooping down to kiss her. It was filled with hunger and need. His façade might be calm and collected, but the way his fingers were digging into her skin, pulling her tightly into him, suggested otherwise. “You should watch that mouth, E.B.” he whispered and began to bite and lick his way down her neck, her collarbone.

  His hands went to the hem of her skirt. She’d finally managed to buy a pencil skirt and loved how sophisticated it made her feel when wearing it. Currently, though, she was loving she skim of his fingers on her thighs. He hooked them under the hem and began to inch it up her thighs.

  “Dallas,” she sighed, “Your brother will be here any minute.”

  “We have time.” His breath was hot on her skin. The skirt continued to come up, its snug fit making her nerves sing as he lifted.

  Without warning, Dallas yanked it up the remaining distance. She heard a small rip. “No! This is my only good skirt!”

  He pushed her against the counter, forcing her to bend and brace herself on the cold granite. She felt the chill through her navy silk top, her nipples immediately tightening.

  He moved a hand to her hair, his fingers combing through. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

  “But--”

  “I’ll buy you ten new ones.” He yanked her head back, causing her spine to arch. His erection was rubbing her and she moaned, already wet.

  He held her in place, fierce grip on her hair, while his other hand cupped her over her thong. Slowly he rubbed her, feeling her slickness and heat through the thin cotton. “You don’t need these tonight.”

  He released her hair and slid the flimsy panties down her legs, letting them fall between her feet.

  As he moved back up her body, his fingers gripped her hips tightly. “Don’t move your arms from the counter, Mariel. I’m taking what I want now.”

  He kicked her legs open and plunged into her in one smooth motion.

  Mariel cried out at the fullness. Dallas didn’t give her time to adjust. He meant what he said--he was taking what he wanted. Her body craved every second of it.

  He began to slam into her. She grunted, she groaned at every forceful thrust. He reached around and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them. When he pinched her nipples hard she screamed and her pussy clamped down on him, creating delicious friction.

  His pistoning was quickly escalating her orgasm. She glanced at the clock. It was two minutes past the time Roger was supposed to be there. She tried to curtail her cries, not wanting to be caught by his brother, but Dallas refused to slow down his tempo. As she bit her lip, trying to mute her passion, he reached down and around and found her clit, swollen and aching.

  He began to circle it, pressing her in hard, insistent strokes. “You make me so hot,” he groaned in her ear.

  “Oh god, Dallas!”

  Mariel mewled as she came, the fast, hard thrusts pushing her climax, making it continue until she needed to rest her weight fully on the counter, her legs unable to hold her any longer.

  Dallas pulled out and came on her. She remembered the feeling from their first night together, his hot seed splashing onto her backside.

  The doorbell rang. Dallas had already tucked his shirt back in and zipped his pants. Mariel panicked. Her skirt was still up around her stomach and her ass was covered in cum.

  Dallas tossed her a towel and went for the door, not waiting for her.

  She scrambled to wipe herself off and jerk down her skirt. She was lucky--the rip was at the hem in the back, small and hopefully unnoticeable. As Dallas opened the door, she realized her panties were still on the floor. She hastily grabbed them and wrapped them in the towel, then shoved them in a drawer.

  Roger was dressed for dinner, despite it being informal. Armani suit, polished shoes, hair styled to perfection, and mega-watt smile already beaming.

  “Brother, thanks for having me.” Roger swept in and Mariel saw him freeze, just for a moment, when he saw her standing next to the kitchen counter. Her face felt so hot and she knew her hair was disheveled. There was no doubt what Dallas and she had been up to, but Roger was too much a gentleman to comment on it.

  His guest stepped in behind him.

  “Paige!”

  Her friend, looking beautiful and rosy cheeked, squealed when she saw Mariel. They hugged and Paige moved to help her open some wine.

  “So this is why Roger was invited over to dinner! I mean, they eat together frequently, but he was surprised Dallas was having us over! I’m so glad I won’t have to keep you a secret around the office, you naughty intern!”

  Mariel blushed, and let Paige think it was from being caught sleeping with the boss. It wasn’t a stretch. She was mortified, knowing the smell of their sex was still in the air. Still, the dinner wasn’t to come out as a couple. It was to find out if Roger was stealing from his own campaign.

  Mariel wanted to be happy for her friend; she remembered the night of the fundraiser, how jealously Paige had spoken of Ellen. It seemed she had found a way to spend more private time with the Senator. It made the revelations Dallas was going to spring on Roger that much harder. Mariel knew if Roger was guilty, she wouldn’t just have to comfort Dallas—her friend would be shattered as well.

  “I see you’re here with Roger. Not a formal business meeting, hmmm?” Though she thought she sounded relaxed, the joke came out a little forced. Paige didn’t notice.

  “We’re just throwing out some ideas for the directions he’d like his speeches to take.” Her face said otherwise--Paige was clearly pleased to be with Roger. She was also wearing a spectacular sheath dress. It was cut low in the front and the back and clung to Paige’s curvy hips. Definitely not business attire.

  “And Ellen isn’t a part of these brainstorming meetings? After hours?” She couldn’t help but tease, even as it broke her heart. God, she hoped Roger didn’t know anything about the money.

  “No Ellen. I’m sure if it was more than brainstorming, she’d be here. But so far, nothing super important. We’re still recovering from the leak. If he can start to be recognized as someone with clout, well, maybe we can actually make some good policies happen. He’s too honorable, both as a person and a politician, to be relegated to a small part of the party and his house forever.”

  “I hope you’re right.” It came out weighted, almost guilty. But it was true. Mariel did hope Paige was right about Roger. Ready to change the subject, Mariel poured everyone wine.

  She held a glass to Roger, forcing her hand to remain still. “Here.”

  “I see you decided not to leave after all, Mariel.” The rich amusement in Roger’s voice was reminiscent of Dallas. If only this evening had a different purpose.

  She smiled as Dallas draped an arm over her shoulder; it was a statement that shocked and pleased her. Judging from Roger’s face, it stunned him as well. “He’s very persuasive, sir.”

  She didn’t know what passed from Dallas to his brother, but as soon as she said ‘sir,’ Roger took a large gulp of wine, looking definitively more uncomfortable. “You may call me Roger, Mariel or Senator Taylor if you need honorifics, but if you’re in my brother’s home, so I hope you won’t feel the need.”

  There was a little more chit-chat before they were seated. There was plenty of food for everyone. Dallas had decided on tapas, and there were at least ten smaller dishes of Spanish delicacies spread out.

  As she savored a small bit of tapenade on an artisan cracker, Mariel watched the two brothers. Dallas was his normal, uptight self. She wasn’t sure if he would still confront Roger, not with Paige there.

  She didn’t have to wonder for long.

  “Roger.” Dallas pushed his plate away. “We need to talk about something I’ve found.”

  The easy, politician face Roger maintained dropped. Mariel was seeing, she realized, the real man behind the mask. It was disconcerting how good he was at maintaining the face in private as well as public. It impressed her, and saddened her as she realized it was
probably a product of their childhood. How much did that mask cover?

  She wondered if she’d ever have the opportunity to meet their father one day... it wasn’t something she looked forward to.

  “What is it?” There was no more charm, no more suaveness. Just a concerned man.

  Dallas gestured to Mariel. “Actually, she found something. Something that’s been slipping by me for months.”

  “Nothing slips by you!”

  “This did.” With that, Dallas pulled out the financial spreadsheets and pushed them over to his brother. The room was dead silent as Roger looked over the papers, his forehead wrinkled. They could each see the color drain from his face and his mouth dropped open in horror.

  “What the hell am I looking at?”

  She dug deep and gathered some courage. She couldn’t let Dallas shoulder this revelation alone. “You’re looking at your campaign funds being filtered into offshore accounts. I looked up the routing numbers today. There’s funneling through Caribbean banks, Swiss accounts… you name it. If it isn’t under US jurisdiction, your money is going there. After that, who knows?”

  “Offshore accounts. So money laundering… is it Bill?” Roger was barely whispering, his voice tight with rage. So, the two brothers shared more than the smirk. They shared a temper. Only, one was much better at keeping it under wraps than the other.

  “It’s Bill, but he isn’t doing it without direction.” With that, Dallas handed Roger the printed e-mails. This time Roger didn’t take long to read at all. He slammed the papers on the table.

  He and Dallas looked hard at each other, each measuring the other’s reactions. “My god,” Roger broke the silence first. “You think these emails really are from me.”

  “It has your name on it, Rog. Your account. I don’t know what to think.”

  “You could trust me a little more than that. We’ve grown up together. Everything I’ve earned, every hill I’ve climbed and victory I’ve had is because of you. You know me.”

  Roger’s chair shoved back and he stormed out of the room. Dallas leapt after him, leaving Mariel and Paige sitting, both of them straight-backed and uncomfortable. Paige reached for the papers and began to read through them.