Page 64 of The Illusion of Power (Passion and Politics #1)
CAL
F orty-eight hours.
That’s how long it takes for everyone’s schedules to align. The measure of time scrolls through my head on an endless loop as I stand at the head of the table with all the people who wouldn’t recognize urgency if it were a loaded gun pointed right in their faces, settling into seats in front of me.
Most meetings like this start with the person running them thanking everyone for making the time to be here, but I already know those words won’t come out of my mouth.
I’m going to jump straight into the details and past any and all formalities, because if I don’t, the first thing I’ll do is ask if it would have taken this long if Aubrey had been the target and not Selene.
It would be a rhetorical question, of course, because we all know the answer is no.
The only things soothing my agitation are Beck at my side and Selene right in the center of my vision. She’s sitting between Aubrey and Jordan, who both look like they have other things they’d rather be doing than learning about the very real threat to her safety.
Hicks is the last one to take his seat, and when he does he sighs heavily, letting us know he doesn’t appreciate being on the receiving end of a security briefing instead of the one running it.
“Alright, Drake, Beckham, you’ve got us here. Now tell us what’s going on.” He glances at his watch. “And make it quick because we’ve got to get Mr. Taylor to a speaking engagement.”
I grit my teeth, holding back the slew of expletives that want to come spilling out of me, and jumping straight into why we’re here today.
While I speak, detailing the security breach at the news network and the contents of the box Selene gave us, Beck circles the room, handing out folders with photos of everything we found in the box, copies of a written statement by Selene and a report stating that no prints besides Selene’s and ours were found on any of the items.
My goal is to get a read on everyone in the room, but I focus most of my attention on the two men who were on duty during the breach.
They’re standing on opposite sides of the room, acting as bookends to the line of agents bracketing the space.
Harris does a thorough examination of every item in the folder, his brows wrinkled in confusion, while the red flush of embarrassment creeps up his neck.
It’s the same way he looked when we took him to task for leaving Selene unattended that night in Vegas.
Anderson, on the other hand, looks bored.
He hasn’t bothered to open the folder, which strikes me as odd.
I glance at Beck and see that he’s clocked the disinterest too, and we make the silent agreement to focus on Anderson, to figure out if he simply doesn’t care about the details laid out in the folder or if he hasn’t bothered to open it because none of the information inside is new to him.
“Let me get this straight,” Hicks says, resting one elbow on the table near the folder he just slammed shut and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Mrs. Taylor made you and Agent Beckham aware of an egregious breach of our security hours after the fact instead of notifying the agents on duty?” He swings his furious gaze in Selene’s direction. “Why on Earth would you do that?”
Selene’s eyes touch mine for the briefest of seconds, a small recognition of the fact that I was right about what everyone would focus on first. We’re playing with fire here, risking exposing the depth of our connection for the sake of possibly saving her life.
I hate that we’ll have to be more careful now, that there will be more eyes and scrutiny than before, but I’ll gladly bear it all as long as she’s safe.
When she speaks, her voice is all power and not a hint of apology.
“Agents Drake and Beckham have been a near constant in my life since the start of this detail. We have an established rapport and a strong sense of trust that simply doesn’t exist between me and any of the other agents on your team. ”
Love for her surges through me, a hot rush of affection I can’t let show on my face.
Beck sees it, though, and he stretches his eyes ever so slightly, silently urging me to pull it together as he makes his way back to the front of the room.
He crosses his arms over his chest, staring down at Hicks, who scoffs at Selene’s answer.
“With all due respect, Mrs. Taylor, neither of these things justifies the course of action you took. Had you notified Agents Harris and Anderson of the problem, they could have conducted a thorough investigation that would have yielded far better results than this.” He stabs the folder with the tip of his index finger.
Selene tilts her head to the side. “You expected me to trust the very men who allowed the breach to happen to investigate it and come up with anything other than excuses meant to cover their own asses?”
Hicks’ nostrils flare. Everything about his posture suggests that he wants to refute the implication carved into Selene’s question, but he knows he can’t.
If Selene had immediately alerted them to the issue, Harris and Anderson would have been removed from the scene and questioned separately while another team processed the room.
Procedures like that exist specifically to prevent the kind of corruption and accountability avoidance she’s hinting at. Hicks knows that.
If he weren’t so busy trying to take her to task for coming to us, he would have been able to string together something other than a string of words that suggest he doesn’t.
“You could have come to me directly,” he offers lamely.
A derisive snort leaves Beck, which pulls Hicks’ attention away from Selene and straight to him. “Right, because that’s worked so well before.”
Jordan, who’s been quiet up until now, perks up then. “Before? There have been more of these?” She frowns, gesturing at a picture of the box.
“No, but there have been other incidents that have given us cause for concern,” Beck says, the muscle in his jaw jumping. “We have documented and reported each one to Agent Hicks. Each time he’s dismissed or ignored us.”
“Aubrey, did you know about this?” Jordan asks in a pointed tone, meant to capture the man’s attention and prompt him to play the role of the caring husband.
The thought of her thinking he could pull that off almost makes me want to laugh.
Aubrey’s emotional detachment from Selene is clear.
I knew something was off with them even before I was in love with his wife, but it’s so apparent now, and he doesn’t even try to hide it.
He’s been on his phone the entire time, and his folder sits in front of him, unopened.
He jolts at the sound of his name, smiling awkwardly as he pockets his phone and sits up straight like better posture will convince us he was listening. “Right, so, uh, how are we handling this issue?”
Everyone is confused by Aubrey’s inability to follow the conversation, but Hicks’ relief shows on his face. He grasps onto the lifeline the man has inadvertently thrown him, steering the conversation towards next steps so we don’t spend any more time discussing his lack of action.
“That’s an excellent question, Mr. Taylor. Drake, Beckham, I assume you have a list of suspects? Have you run any names?”
“We don’t have suspects,” Beck says. “We have a suspect.”
Aubrey frowns. “One? Didn’t this just happen? How could you narrow it down so fast?”
I scrub a hand down my face, not bothering to hide my frustration.
“There have been a series of ongoing incidents involving your wife, Mr. Taylor. They date back to early September. Everything has been documented, including an obvious escalation as our suspect has grown more and more comfortable with terrorizing Mrs. Taylor. Given the note left in the box, we have reason to believe he is planning something even more bold than the stalking he’s already engaged in. ”
Selene shifts in her seat, growing uncomfortable when I allude to what Jacob might do next.
We ran through a few scenarios together before she left for dinner the other night, and none of them were good.
After all, no one leaves a box filled with bloody photos and a note saying ‘see you soon’ if they don’t want to do bodily harm.
Grabbing his folder, Hicks begins flipping through the pages, looking for a name. He’s frustrated when he comes up empty, but I don’t care. Beck and I both agreed it was important for us to be able to see the face of our suspected traitors when we said Jacob’s name.
“Well, who is it?” Aubrey asks, more concerned about ending the suspense than hearing the name of the man trying to kill his wife.
I don’t bother looking at him because I know he’s not the one leaking information and putting Selene in danger. Instead, my gaze bounces from Hicks to Harris to Anderson and back again as the name passes through my lips.
“Jacob Marsh.”
Anderson’s expression is flat. Too flat. Like he’s intentionally withholding a reaction.
Harris’ brows pull together. Now that he’s over the embarrassment inspired by the news of the breach, he’s dialed in. “Marsh? Any relation to Leland Marsh?”
“His son,” Beck says.
Hicks’ leg bounces with agitation. “How’d you make this connection?”
I lay it all out for him, giving him every detail, including the things we couldn’t confirm, such as the link between Jacob and the vitriol online. When I’m done, Aubrey appears to be genuinely concerned. Not for Selene, though, for himself.
“This kid’s dad tried to assassinate a President, right? Do I need to be concerned?”
My mask of professionalism threatens to slip, but I hold it together. Blowing out a breath, I shake my head. “No, Mr. Taylor. Jacob seems to be singularly focused on your wife. Not you.”