The Senator's Daughter (Heritage Series Book 3)

by Ciana Stone

  "Yes. Had the Hood not sent an untraceable email to every major newspaper in the world to let them know the bank had received its just rewards for being such crooks, the news would never have gotten out. The banks certainly would have tried to keep it secret. But the Hood wanted people to know that payback had been delivered."

  "And this talk of the Hood is somehow connected to your visit today?"

  "Oh yes," Richard said and looked down at his phone. "The Hood, who we now believe to be female, managed to get into an apartment building equipped with state-of-the-art security and deliver a manila envelope of information to one of the lead investigators on the case. The note she included is what I'm going to read to you."

  He took a sip from his glass then read.

  By now I guess you're aware that a certain high-profile investment group has suffered a loss. Well, the truth is, it's not a loss. It's merely a repayment of what they stole over a decade ago.

  Are you following me? You do remember when they peddled over forty billion in securities, backed by at least two hundred thousand risky home mortgages, but never told the buyers that they were secretly betting that a sharp drop in housing prices would send the values of the securities sinking like the Titanic?

  I can almost see your faces as it dawns on you. Yes, the premier investment kings got away with murder, figuratively speaking. They murdered the economy. Do you remember?

  They bought tens of thousands of mortgages from subprime lenders and converted them into high-yield bonds – and pay attention FBI, because this became the subject of many of your investigations.

  They used offshore tax havens to shuffle those mortgage-backed securities to institutions around the world, often through secret deals run through the Cayman Islands.

  Thousands of homes were repossessed from bankrupt people or those struggling financially but who had gotten subprime mortgages anyway because Wall Street made it easy for them to qualify.

  And then when it all went to hell in a handbasket, the financial kings emerged intact thanks to a twenty-three billion dollar hand out in direct and indirect federal aid.

  How pleased they must have been with themselves, and how they must have enjoyed the fruits of that poisoned field for the last decade. Do you ever wonder how many times they laughed, patted themselves on the backs and bragged to one another about their achievements?

  I have. I've thought about it a lot. And I got tired of thinking and decided it was time for action.

  So, congratulations, America. Everyone who was forced into bankruptcy, who lost their home or life savings, has now been repaid. For the last 27 months and 29 days, checks have been going out from accounts all over the world to the individuals who were cheated.

  Twenty-three billion dollars worth.

  And today, all you crooks, your systems will stop giving you false reports and let you see the truth. That you're twenty-three billion dollars poorer than you realized and because of that – because the numbers are now accurate, your ship is about to sink.

  Bye-bye, assholes. I hope it was fun while it lasted. And good luck on trying to recover.

  It's been fun.

  Sincerely,

  Robin Hood

  Richard looked at Russell. "Petrov was involved and lost a bundle."

  "What a shame," Naomie commented.

  "That's what I said. Until last night when someone rang our doorbell and handed Shar an envelope when she opened the door."

  He looked at Shar and reached out to put his hand on top of hers. For a moment they just looked at one another, and Naomie was struck with the strongest feeling that whatever was in that envelope was something that didn't just offer potential problems, but also humiliation.

  Richard cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Russell and Naomie. "Inside were photos, all manufactured and fake. I had an expert Shar trusts look at them, and he said an expert could easily spot the tell-tale signs that they're fakes."

  "What kind of photos?" Russell asked.

  "Me. Going into a brownstone owned by a rather infamous Domme."

  "Is that all?"

  "Not even close. My face has been put on a series of photos of a man and two women engaged in sado-masochism. A note that accompanied the photos said I had one week to make sure Mr. Petrov's money was returned, the deal for the sale of our and Kal's land was signed, or the world would see a side of me that would surely cost me the nomination."

  "That son-of-a-bitch!" Russell slammed his fist on the table hard enough to have plates and utensils rattling. "I should have buried that bastard when he showed up for Cici's wedding."

  "Or we should destroy him now," Naomie argued quietly and looked from Russell to Richard and finally to Sharon. "Madam Attorney General, you may want to excuse yourself from the remainder of this conversation."

  "I know what you're saying and thank you for offering me protection, but the answer is no. I know what you do and what you can do, and also know you're not new to working off book assignments, so let's consider this one of those, shall we?"

  "Yes, ma'am. But before we get to that, I think it's time for transparency."

  "Dr. Taylor I don't–"

  "She's right, Shar," Richard interrupted. Their gazes locked and Naomie wondered who would win this particular battle. It almost surprised her when Sharon nodded.

  Richard looked at Russell. "Dr. Taylor– Naomie, is no stranger to Shar or I, Russ. At least professionally. She's been working as what we'll call a consultant for the government since she was barely twenty-one."

  "You said you'd done work for the government," Russell looked at Naomie. "Not that you knew my brother."

  "I don't. I've been present in situation briefings with the Attorney General, and twice with your brother, but that's all."

  "Okay, fine, so does that constitute transparency?"

  "It does," Richard agreed.

  "Fine," Naomie said. "What do you want me to do?"

  "Make sure these photos never see the light of day," Sharon was the one to answer. "Find the original files and make them disappear. And then I want Petrov to suffer."

  "How much and how long, Madam Attorney General?"

  "As long and as horribly as possible."

  Naomie nodded. "As you wish. I will need to access certain files and information. Can I get legal clearance, or shall I find my own way in?"

  "I'm afraid you'll be on your own, Dr. Taylor."

  "I understand."

  "However," Sharon added. "We'll provide you with all the assistance possible. What do you need?"

  "A place to work."

  "You can't do that here?" Russell asked.

  "No. It has to be somewhere that if discovered, will never link back to anyone at this table."

  "I may know of a place," Sharon said. "A property that was confiscated when we tossed the Russians out last year."

  "Can we reactivate their communication protocols and grid?"

  Sharon smiled. "If you know how, I can cover you."

  Naomie nodded. "When do you want me to start?"

  "Immediately."

  "Yes, ma'am. I'll go pack and arrange transportation."

  "You can take the jet," Russell offered.

  "No, it's better if no one knows I've left. I'll set up a connection so I can remotely send emails and texts from here which will make it appear I am, in fact, here."

  "You can do that?" Russell asked.

  "You mean you don't know?" Richard asked.

  "Know what?" Russell looked at him.

  "There isn't much this woman can't do. That's why she works off book and why the good old USA had to dig deep into its pockets to keep her on home soil. Every major power on the planet wants her and are willing to pay insanely to get her."

  "So, when you said money didn't matter, you really meant it," Russell said to her.

  "Yes, sir," she smiled at him. "If you'll all excuse me. I need to start packing."

  "Thank you, Naomie," Sharon used her name for the first tim
e as Naomie stood. "I finally feel like I can breathe knowing you're working with us, but I'm honor-bound to give you an out. If you're caught…"

  "I know. I'm on my own."

  "Yes. Neither Richard nor I can help you, and even if we had the power, the current administration wouldn't allow it. It's long been rumored they're in debt to Petrov, so they'll protect him if they can."

  "And bury you," Richard added. "So, here's your chance, Naomie. You can say no, and I won't hold it against you. God knows I want you on my side, and I sure as hell don't want to lose this nomination because of lies like this, but I also don't want you to risk your life for me unless you're damn sure."

  Naomie looked at Russell. "Talk to me."

  He rose and looked at his brother. "If you'll excuse us?" Then he offered Naomie his hand. She took it, and he walked her into his study. Once the door was closed, he turned to her. "You don't have to do this."

  "I know."

  "Naomie, if you're caught–"

  "I know."

  "Is that all you have to say?"

  "I'm interested in what you have to say. Do you want me to save your brother?"

  Russell looked at her then abruptly sat on the sofa, put his elbows on his knees, and lowered his head into his heads. "Christ on a crutch, Naomie. What kind of question is that?"

  "One you need to answer," she sat on the floor in front of him, between his legs.

  His hands lowered, one to stroke her hair and the other to cover her hand, which lay on his knee. "I don't want to answer."

  "Why?" When he didn't answer, she asked again. "Russ? Why?"

  "Because I'll toss my brother to the wolves in favor of you."

  "Are you so sure the wolves will catch me? I'm very good at what I do."

  "I have no doubt, but Naomie, this family can't ask you to risk your life to save Rich from an embarrassing situation that he's already admitted can be proven false."

  "But it could cost him the nomination. If the public believes their trust has been violated, then they'll turn against him and–" It suddenly came to her. She knew exactly how to deal with this matter. "I won't get caught Russ, and I know what to do to turn it back on the people who are trying to hurt him."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I am."

  "Still, I'm not asking you to do this, Naomie."

  "I know. I'm volunteering."

  "Why?"

  "Several reasons. First, he's your brother, and what hurts him, hurts you. Don't think for a minute I don't see the dynamics. Robert and I talked about it. You see yourself as the steward of this land, the one meant to protect it and the family so that Richard can go out into the world, demonstrate his brilliance and be the star that outshines everyone else."

  "That's not entirely–"

  "Let me finish. Please. Robert told me that you accepted that role, not because you weren't just as capable of being that star, but because Richard wasn't capable of doing what you can. You could have had as brilliant a political career as Richard, but he couldn't have managed Heritage the way you have. It takes more than strength and guts. You're managing millions of acres of land over seven states, and the sheer volume of what Heritage produces is staggering. It takes a razor-sharp mind to stay on top of everything and an astute businessman to not just run it all, but make it the richest, most profitable ranch in the entire country. You've done what no one else ever has, Russ and Robert knew that you would."

  Russ blinked and swiped at his eyes. "It's kind of you to say."

  "I'm not being kind. You know me better than that, and you can be humble all day long, but not falsely so. Russ, you know what you've done, and you should be damn proud. You stand tall in any crowd and not just because of your height. You're the most naturally powerful man I've ever met, along with being the most honest and kind and I'd walk through hell for you."

  "I don't want you to get hurt trying to help me."

  "Nor do I, but again, I know how to do this, and I want to help. Because I love you and because I want to see Richard win this nomination and sit in the Oval Office. This country is in trouble, and someone has to step up, someone willing to do what's necessary to save not just our country, but our planet. I think Richard's that man, and if I can help him get there, then I damn well want to do it."

  "You're amazing, Naomie Taylor. I thank you, and I won't try and stop you, but honey, it scares the hell out of me. It took me my whole life to find you and the thought of losing you–"

  "You won't."

  "Promise?"

  "Always and forever."

  "Fine, then go save my brother and the world."

  She rose up on her knees to kiss him and felt his worry in his embrace. She wouldn't have admitted it for the world, but she was actually eager to get started. She'd waited a long time to get even with Aleksei Petrov and now, finally, was her chance.

  Chapter Eight

  Washington, D.C.

  She saw him the moment he walked into the restaurant. As the maitre’d led John toward the table, she noticed how other women looked at him. It made her both proud and a little possessive. She’d already decided she wanted John for her own.

  He thanked the maitre’d then leaned over to graze her lips with a soft kiss. “You look amazing,” he murmured against her ear before straightening.

  “You do know how to flatter,” she said and smiled.

  John took a seat, unfolded his napkin to place in his lap and then took a sip of water. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “You didn’t. I was early.” She leaned in closer to the table and kept her voice low. “Did you hear?”

  “Hear what?” He leaned in closer as well.

  “The President threw a fit over the latest poll that shows my father as the favored candidate.”

  “Amber, that’s fantastic.” John reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. “You must be thrilled.”

  “I’m thrilled for him. He’d make a wonderful President.”

  “Well, he'll have my vote.”

  “You’re so sweet.”

  “Not at all. I think he’s the best candidate and will do a great job.”

  “I agree. And I think we should celebrate.”

  John smiled at her and she nearly weakened in her resolve. She’d made a promise to herself and her parents that she wouldn’t get into a sexual relationship with anyone. This was a crucial time for her father, and she didn’t want her behavior to reflect badly on him, even if she didn’t see anything wrong with a grown woman having a sex life.

  Still, she’d promised and had to be as good as her word.

  “What did you have in mind?” he asked.

  “A night cruise.”

  “Night cruise?”

  “Yes, my parents have a boat. I thought we could have dinner and spend some time under the stars.”

  “Just the two of us?”

  “Well, along with the captain, his crew, the cook, steward and−“

  “Just how big is this boat?”

  “It sleeps twelve.”

  “Girl that’s not a boat.”

  “It is at my house.”

  John chuckled. “That sounds amazing. When?”

  “Saturday?”

  “It’s a date. What time− oh, sorry hold on.” He reached into his jacket for his phone and answered. After that he didn’t speak again until he said “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  John looked at her and reached for her hand. “I’m sorry. I have to get back. A case … I wish I could explain but – but I have to go. Call you later?”

  “Of course. Go. Do what you need to do. Save the world.”

  John rose, dropped his napkin on the table and rounded it to lean down and kiss her softly. “I can’t wait until Saturday.”

  “Me too.” She whispered.

  “I’ll call you later.” He gave her one more kiss and then hurried away.

  Amber watched him leave and then stood. There was little point in staying for lunch. She hated eating a
lone. She might as well spend the time taking care of things she needed to get done before Saturday.

  She might just change her mind about the level of intimacy in her relationship with John. After all, who had to know how close they really were? Maybe she'd talk to Naomie about it.

  *****

  "Fucking hell." John muttered as he and his partner, Tom Medlin, exited the courtroom. He couldn't remember being so disappointed in the Justice System. No, disappointed wasn't the right word. He was enraged over the outcome of the Maddox appeal. Winfred Maddox was now a free man. John felt like punching his fist through a wall.

  If things weren't bad enough, Maddox hurried up beside him. "Guess you boys just fucked up all around. Ah, freedom. It smells sweet, but not as sweet as it will when I get back to my…passions."

  That tore it. John had hold of Maddow with one hand and the other fist raised to pound the man when Tom grabbed him and wrestled him away. "Let it go, man. He's not worth it."

  "I'd like to strangle that miserable worm with my bare hands."

  "Chill." Tom tugged John away from the crowd which included news people. John knew he should keep his cool. The last thing he needed was to end up on the six o'clock news with an "FBI agent attacks acquitted man" lower thirds chevron.

  "He'll do it again," John grumbled. "You know he will."

  "And if he does, we'll nail him. Again. But this time we'll be more vigilant, and he won't get off."

  "Or we'll shoot the bastard and be done with it."

  "Your Texas is showing, dude."

  John snorted his disgust at the entire affair and ignored Tom's comments. He knew what Tom meant. He'd spent most of his life in Cotton Creek, Texas. Football earned him a scholarship and academics carried him into Military Intelligence when no leagues came scouting.

  His conversation with Linc flitted through his mind. If things worked out with Amber, maybe he'd take her to meet his Grandmother. Moving a little fast there, Johnny boy, his inner guide pointed out.

  Still, at the moment, Cotton Creek sounded like a hell of a lot better place than the nation's capital. It seemed like things were falling apart around him. He was still working the Robin Hood case and that was turning into a huge media nightmare. The story had somehow leaked and had dominated the news for the last two days. The Hood was being hailed as everything from a real life Robin Hood to the Antichrist, depending on what camp you belonged to.