Chasing Frost

by Isabel Jolie

  Here in New York, jury selection starts next week for Tom Bennett and Evan Mitchell’s trials. BB&E isn’t one of the top accounting firms, and no one really cares what happens to a few guys who falsely inflated revenues, hid losses, or laundered money. People do tend to care about men who scam a cancer research charity. A Wall Street Journal reporter coined the term “The Stanford Six” in his article describing how six friends from Stanford University benefited from charity funds over the prior fifteen years. It wasn’t long before the term dominated headlines. Senator McLoughlin is included in the alumni list, but awareness of this fact seems to be low. We are hopeful the media coverage won’t make jury selection too challenging.

  Turns out the whole scam started years ago as basic cronyism, awarding advantages to friends. McLoughlin would help his buddies get a contract through his government connections. They, in turn, would contribute significantly to his charity. It seems the first time the charity bought a property at an inflated value from the Chicago Real Estate Group, the firm was in danger of going under. Then they must have realized how much money they could make.

  Within a year, McLoughlin’s charity began funding research projects from South Fork Research. Around that time, Elijah “EJ” Mason founded Medical Supply Co., and South Fork Research and McLoughlin’s charity became their biggest clients. It’s not clear from the paper trail how many of these deals were merely overpriced transactions and how many were real, because somewhere along the line, the friends had begun laundering money for the mafia via Joe McGurn.

  Joe McGurn identified additional business opportunities. Within a month of creating Biohazard Waste Disposal, the firm won contracts with not only South Fork Research but also Tovan Hospital Group, the biggest hospital group in the midwest. Some of the work was fully legitimate, but prices were always high, and the CEOs involved were always taking an undisclosed cut. McLoughlin’s charity, back in the day, did donate to cancer research, but almost twelve years ago, the company began redirecting funds to McLoughlin’s election campaigns and to supporting McLoughlin’s closest friends. They probably could have continued without garnering attention, except they got greedy. The real estate deals in areas where nothing would sell started to generate attention. When a company expressed interest in acquiring South Fork Research, the group decided to inflate revenue to drive the acquisition price up.

  Greed and a naïve belief they’d never get caught created the notorious Stanford Six, comprised of Cooper Grayson, CEO of Chicago Real Estate Group, John Fischer and Eileen Becker from South Fork Research, Tom Bennett and Evan Michell from BB&E, and Senator McLoughlin. We believe the senator developed relationships with the mafia during his wheelings and dealings in Chicago. And it all went downhill for the group of friends from there.

  Our team, and select key witnesses, will testify in Senator McLoughlin’s case, but even then, the accounting piece will be the explanatory ‘how they did it’ element everyone won’t fully understand and therefore won’t care much about. As the prosecution so often has to do, our criminal case will center on all of the non-sexy ways they broke the law. These men might all be murderers, but they’ll go down for boring crimes like wire fraud, tax evasion, and accounting scams.

  We did catch the men who kidnapped Chase. They hailed an Uber on their personal credit card four blocks from the warehouse, around the corner from the dumpster where they left Garrick Carlson. Bullet analysis proved Garrick Carlson shot Chase. And the bullet that killed Garrick came from my gun. At the time, I didn’t know I made a hit. I have no regrets.

  All the captured men agreed to talk. Joseph McGurn is now off the grid, a member of the WITSEC program. The organized crime team is all over their new prized source and believe he’ll be instrumental in upcoming court cases.

  We never made a connection between the Stanford Six and the club shooting. On some days, I’m absolutely certain of one. On others, I doubt myself and wonder if maybe, possibly, it was all a coincidence. We happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I might drive myself mad about this particular aspect of the case, except that justice has been served. The shooter himself is dead. And if the Stanford Six orchestrated it, I fully expect they will be in prison for at least the next twenty-five years on the evidence we do possess.

  Media attention over the nightclub mass shooting has waned. Those first couple of weeks, every now and then someone would do a double-take when they saw me on the street. But those first few weeks I spent primarily either in the FBI office or at Chase’s apartment, so I wasn’t out much. Ongoing debates over stricter gun control laws linger, but I don’t hold out hope anything will change. When the next mass shooting occurs, politicians will grandstand, the media will obsess, and then appetite for change will wane once more. It’s the worst kind of cycle, and one I don’t have an answer for.

  Too many businesses make money off guns for real change to occur, and those businesses back the writers of the legislation. The flip side is there are too many guns currently in circulation for legislation to make a dent on the availability of guns to criminals. Ending payments from corporations and private interests to politicians might be one way to head down the road toward change. But then I think about the untracked payments to Senator McLoughlin through a charity aimed at raising money to fight cancer. If a cancer research charity guided funds into a corrupt politician’s pockets, I lose hope that even with a sea change in public policy, we’ll find an end to this vicious cycle. Especially when a crook like McLoughlin still has hordes of supporters backing his re-election campaign.

  They offered Chase WITSEC. He turned it down. Said he wasn’t going to walk away from his family, or me. If he hadn’t thrown his family in there, I might have fought him.

  Not only did he turn protection down, but he stepped into the role of Interim CEO. The day he returned, he held an employee-wide meeting in the atrium, the community area outside the cafeteria. Chase spoke of business ethics, and the importance of maintaining integrity in their work and in their lives. He reminded employees of BB&E’s mission and assured them the firm remained strong and that, as a team, they would right the ship. I stood to the side, surveying the crowd, alert for any guns, admittedly possibly paranoid. Chase received a well-deserved standing ovation.

  “Keating, banker hours?” Hopkins peers over his laptop, questioning me as I pass his desk, heading out for the day.

  “Meeting with Chase’s physical therapist. There are some specific stretches he wants me to see so I can help him with them at home.” Chase is doing well, partially because he was in great shape before, and partially due to his dedication to his physical therapy. There’s a good chance his shoulder will always give him some issues, but he’s determined to do everything he can to reach a full recovery. We’ve both been seeing a therapist to work through the emotional trauma.

  “You make a decision about what you want to do after the trial?”

  “I’m leaning toward staying in white-collar.” One of the good things about working for an organization like the FBI is that if I did decide to change to a different group in the future, it’s always possible to do so. “How’s Marcy doing?”

  Hopkins and his wife are expecting their first child. Marcy works in surveillance.

  “Nausea’s gotten better since she discovered these bands to wear around her wrist. Tell Maitlin I said hello. Go easy on my man, okay?” Hopkins stopped by the hospital to check on Chase, and the two bonded. Chase sold Hopkins on the Chelsea Piers gym, so now they see each other regularly.

  Chase and I have basically been living together since his kidnapping. At first, the arrangement allowed me to be there if he needed anything when he first came home from the hospital. Recovering from bullet wounds can be a slow and painful process.

  During those first few weeks, Chase had me heavily involved in the redesign of his apartment. Gone are the modern, gorgeous, low-backed, curvy sofas, and in their place are comfortable, livable pieces of furniture. Last weekend we painted the white l
iving area walls a color named Winter Calm. The color has a masculine lavender hue, and it gives the space warmth while maximizing openness. And better yet, we picked it out together.

  I push the door to the apartment open, my hands full of mail. Chase sits on the sofa with a laptop on the coffee table.

  “There she is,” he says when I enter.

  “How was work?”

  “Good.” I kick off my shoes by the door and join him.

  “Did you call your sister back?”

  “I did. Talked to her on the way home. She’s good. Planning to come visit us on her next break.” I didn’t think to call my sister after the nightclub shooting. She happened to see a video of me on a mutual friend’s feed. That led to a long discussion and a promise to do a better job of communicating.

  “Look at this.” Chase angles the laptop in my direction.

  “An apartment?”

  “Here. Click through the photos. It’s a building. An investment property I’m considering.”

  “Oh?”

  “Look.” He clicks on the arrow. “It’s a full townhome currently split into four units. The bottom unit has a basement and also goes out into a small back yard. It’s a two-level four-bedroom. I’m thinking we could live there and rent out the apartments above. If we needed more space one day, we could expand the living quarters and reduce the number of renters. What do you think?”

  “Chase…we’re not officially living together.”

  “That’s only because you insist on holding on to that apartment downtown. You’re throwing almost three thousand a month away on the place. One day you’ll feel comfortable enough to let the apartment go, or at least sublet it. But this place, this is long term planning. This is for when we have kids. And the rentals make it a great investment property.”

  “Kids?”

  “Yes, kids. You want kids, right? Remember? We talked about this.”

  “We talked about kids as it relates to guns. Not kids as it relates to us.” Chase doesn’t believe guns should be in a home with children. It’s a sensitive topic, and one I haven’t argued with him over because there hasn’t been any reason.

  “Hey, you know you’re going to be an amazing mom…right?” His fingers comb through my hair, then he places the strands behind one ear and cups my jaw. He sees me, through me. Sometimes it’s unnerving how well he knows me.

  “I don’t even have a plant.” I get what he’s saying, and I know others in the FBI have families, but it’s hard to envision.

  “Hopkins is about to have a kid.”

  “I know.” I do know it. I’m a kid of the CIA, I know it can be done.

  “And besides, we’re a great match. I’ve got the flexible job, so I can be home when needed, you know, if you’re caught up in a tough case.” His fingers intertwine with mine, assuring me.

  “You’re a CEO. Flexible job, my ass.” I poke him in his stomach, grinning.

  “Not for long.”

  I raise my eyebrows, questioning.

  “The board found a replacement. Great guy. So much more experience. He’ll be good for BB&E. The announcement will be sometime next week.”

  “And what will you do?”

  “Our head of client services is retiring. He was Evan Mitchell’s father-in-law, so…I’ll step in for a while. Be there to support the transition. But you know me. I’ve always got options.” He grins and pulls me across him so I straddle his lap.

  “Always a plan.” My fingers find his shoulders, and I squeeze hard then release, maneuvering my fingers into the tight muscles, alleviating the tension. He closes his eyes and leans his head back. My hands still. “Are you saying you want kids now?” My gaze flicks back to his laptop. The screensaver now covers his long-term plan.

  He grins. It’s a confident grin covering a hint of uncertainty. “Not now, Frost. One day.”

  “With me? You want kids with me?”

  “I do.” His gaze sears me. “One day.”

  “Life with an agent isn’t going to be easy, you know?” My fingers trail over his chest, exploring the hard lines I love.

  “Baby, I never thought I’d say this, but I’m all about supporting you. You’re my Bond girl. The way I see it, taking care of you is doing my part to improve national security. Somebody’s gotta do it, and it better damn well be me.” He sounds like he’s posturing, but there’s an underlying warmth and sincerity. It’s the Chase contrast.

  The door buzzes. I pop a quick kiss on his lips and hop off the sofa.

  “Hello?” The intercom now functions. I insisted the building manager fix it before Chase returned home from the hospital.

  “It’s Laronzo. The physical therapist.”

  I buzz him up.

  “You standing guard?” Chase asks. It’s a fair question. My back is to the wall, and my hand is on the doorknob. I have the door cracked so I can see who gets off the elevator. It’s not so much nerves as habit. “You look like you’re about to flee.”

  “Flee?” I laugh. “And what would you do if I did?” He’s grinning, but there’s a seriousness to his expression. The way he looks at me, it warms me from the inside out.

  “I’d chase you.”

  Epilogue

  Chase

  One year later

  * * *

  “What’ve you got there?” Sadie’s biting the tip of her tongue as she twists a pink ribbon around a bouquet of flowers.

  “I thought we’d take flowers over to congratulate Anna on the engagement.”

  “You know he’s had that ring for ages, right?”

  “So you’ve said, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less of a reason to celebrate,” she reprimands.

  “Hey, I know. I’m happy Jackson finally made it happen. I bought champagne.” I open the refrigerator to grab the bottle of bubbly, then snag Sadie from behind and kiss the curve of her neck.

  One day, I’m going to follow in Jackson’s footsteps and make this one mine. Officially. We’ve been living together for a year. She finally found someone to take over the lease on her tiny studio. All my friends are living with their significant others, and most everyone’s engaged.

  “Did Maggie and Jason end up coming into town?” Our friends from Chicago were hoping to make it in, but word on the street is Maggie’s expecting. She miscarried a few months ago. Sam told me if Jason has anything to do with it, Maggie will be locked in a padded zero infection chamber until the baby is born.

  “No, and remember, we’re not supposed to know yet that she’s expecting.”

  “Yeah, we’re not supposed to know, and yet she told Anna. Anna who gabs to everyone. How’s that work again?”

  Sadie smiles as she continues finessing the ribbons.

  “Well, I suppose Delilah and Mason are next?” Unless you want us to be. I watch her facial expressions closely, looking for any hint she’s wistful. My old girlfriend dropped hints daily about getting engaged, but Sadie hasn’t said anything. We’ll talk about the kids we want to have—two—and how we’ll care for them—I’ll take the lead, given I’ll have the most job flexibility—but she’s never once held her left hand out and mentioned it needs decorating. Jackson says Anna was the same way. Olivia didn’t drop any hints to Sam either. I never thought I’d say it, but I wouldn’t mind a little pressure. Then at least I’d know she’s ready.

  Maybe I’ll pull Mason aside this evening and get some advice from him. He’s proposed twice, to two different women, and each woman declined. He can at least tell me what not to do.

  “Do you think this is enough?” she asks, disregarding my question about who is next.

  I glance down at our kitchen counter. We’re just going to Sam and Olivia’s for a group dinner. Yes, theoretically, it’s to celebrate Jackson and Anna’s engagement, but we all get together for dinner regularly.

  “Flowers and bubbly? Works for me. Remember, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to shower Anna with gifts. Bridal shower, engagement party.”

  “This is the en
gagement party.”

  “Tonight? No. It’s an engagement party. It’s not the engagement party. You wait. There’ll be more. I wouldn’t be surprised if we have to haul it to Virginia too. There’s no way Jackson’s parents aren’t going to want to throw a party.”

  “Would your parents throw a party?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.” I slide my fingers through her hair and pause until her gaze meets mine. “When we get engaged, they will most definitely throw us a party.”

  Again, I watch her closely. She registers no surprise.

  “Would your parents want us to come out?” I ask.

  “To Russia?” Now she registers surprise.

  “I speak Russian.” My reminder has her rolling her eyes.

  “I haven’t spoken to Dad in months. Are you sure you want to marry into a family of spies? There will be no engagement parties. My parents might not even show for the wedding.”

  “Sadie, I don’t need the fluff. All I need is you. For all I care, we could make it legal at the courthouse.”

  “I thought you didn’t want a ball and chain?”

  “That was the old me. Before you.”

  “Ah. And the new you?”

  “I love it when you tie me down. I especially love tying you down.” My fingers graze her breasts on their journey to caress her neck. I rub my thumb over her plump bottom lip, and she bites.

  “Hey.” I pull my hand back, shaking it, completely turned on.

  “Tell me more,” she teases with a sexy come-hither smile. “I rather like the handcuffs you used last weekend.” God, I love this woman. I’d do anything for her.