B00MV3HMDW_EBOK
CSA Case Files, Book Five
Kennedy Layne
Copyright © 2014 Kennedy Layne
INTERNAL TEMPTATION
Copyright © 2014 by Kennedy Layne
Kindle Edition
E-Book ISBN: 978-0-9899739-9-1
Cover art by Sloan Winters
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Jeffrey—every morning brings another day of love and happiness. I love you with all of my heart…you are my best friend, my partner, my lover, my husband.
In acknowledgement of my nephews—Troy, Evan, and Zach—I am proud of each and every one of you.
To my mother…thank you so much for your support.
As for the “Looney Bin Sprinting Group”—without you, this book would never have been done on time.
Prologue
G
avin Crest picked up the fine linen towel that he’d laid on the elliptical machine and wiped the sweat from his brow. Whereas his resting heart rate was on average forty beats per minute, he’d worked his way up to one hundred and forty in a means to relieve the stress that had been building within him. He increased the incline and pumped his legs a little harder, ignoring the beads of perspiration that rolled down his back.
It was going on zero four hundred and the exercise room was empty as usual. It wouldn’t be in an hour or two when people in his apartment building wanted to get their workout in before their day started. Eventually he’d have to set up some equipment in one of his spare rooms if his insomnia kept up like this. As usual, sleep had eluded him and his hope for exhaustion wasn’t even remotely in sight. Even two hours of sleep sounded good right about now.
Personal and business matters weighed heavily on Crest’s mind, although one didn’t overshadow the other. He ran harder, widening his stride while trying to maintain an even breathing pattern. Normally he could focus all of his energy on his training routine, but right now numerous thoughts pounded in his head right along with his rapid heart rate. With the way his luck was running he’d die of a heart attack, leaving his remaining enemies with a hollow victory and him with a Pyrrhic one by his current margin.
Crest Security Agency, the business that he’d nurtured over the years, had multiple cases that were ongoing. It was about to have only one—an assignment that pertained to an assassin who was still MIA. Every resource at Crest’s disposal had been spent to find the cutthroat man who went by one name—Ryland. It had yielded virtually nothing. It was beyond irritating and now he would have to pull on every reserve he had to locate Ryland and turn him in to the custody of federal authorities.
With the man’s previous escape the feds had placed additional precautions into place. Ryland had also targeted several of Crest’s team members, initially accepting a contract to eliminate the wife of Jax Christensen and then moving on to cause turmoil in Taryn Sisal’s life. Both employees were more than mere average personnel…they had become Crest’s family, and he took personal responsibility for their lives. Ryland needed to be neutralized, but first they needed to find him.
As if locating a killer for hire wasn’t enough on Crest’s plate, his personal assistant had chosen a bad time to submit her resignation. Crest could be honest with himself and admit that it wasn’t Jessie leaving the firm that had gotten underneath his skin and she wasn’t just an assistant. Hell, she’d been his lone ray of sunshine each and every day. Anger at the way things had turned out churned in his gut. Why the fuck couldn’t she have left well enough alone? She’d quit the firm upon giving a fatal ultimatum that they take their professional affiliation to a very personal one. That would never happen and he’d always been upfront with her regarding their relationship—she just didn’t get to change the rules.
Crest had his ear buds in and was listening to an American blues rocker, Joe Bonamassa. He’d been trying to drown out his thoughts through the strums of a particularly insightful jazz guitar riff, albeit unsuccessfully, when his phone buzzed and indicated an incoming call. Fuck it. He might as well go back up to his apartment, take a shower, and head into the office. There were résumés to sift through, SITREPS to go over, and calls to make. He stopped the elliptical at the same time he swiped accept on his phone using his fingerprint. The device was attached to his arm with a Velcro band.
“Crest.”
“Morning,” Ethan Chambers replied, as if it weren’t technically in the middle of the night. “I’ll be at the office at zero six hundred. I’m stopping by Taryn’s apartment first so she doesn’t hear what I’ve uncovered in front of the team. I’d rather speak to her in private.”
“I agree. I received your previous message.” Crest picked up his towel and stepped off of the machine. His legs felt like rubber from the hard run, but it gave him something else to focus on instead of the pounding in his head. Walking toward the exit, he tossed the cloth into the hamper before opening up the glass door that led to the elevator banks. “I’ve made a few calls myself and obtained some extra hands in our effort to track down Ryland. I read your SITREP and something doesn’t sit right with me.”
“This entire mission has turned into one big clusterfuck.” Ethan had stated the obvious. He then changed the subject to one that worsened Crest’s already bad mood. “Have you found someone to replace Jessie? She had major connections to some of the hotels down in Houston.”
“No,” Crest replied curtly, entering the elevator and then pressing the button for his penthouse. He leaned against the far wall, resting his head back against the wood. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss Jessie. She’d caused a tight ball of emotion to remain inside of his chest, making him feel like he was smothering. He’d be damned if she would push him toward starting something between them that could only end in tragedy. “I had a couple of interviews lined up this morning, but I’ll reschedule them for this afternoon. Besides, Fallon Canna will be at the office at zero eight hundred.”
“Fallon? I thought we already had Ryland profiled. Why do we need a profiler now?”
“Too many principal identifying traits have been altered and skewed since Ryland tried to eliminate Emily. When we discovered his connection with Taryn, his profile evolved and now we need to redefine the outline as a result. There are too many coincidences for my liking. I’ve borrowed Fallon from the Bureau so she can study the information that has been revealed.” Crest watched as the number blocks above the doors lit up one after another, getting him closer to his destination. At least the conversation had switched to Ethan’s personal life. It was easier to swallow. “Is there something that I need to be aware of?”
Crest already knew that Ethan had once had an intimate relationship with Fallon Canna close to a year ago. The affair had been brief and ended on relatively good terms, but even Crest wasn’t privy to everything. If those two had rekindled their relationship, he needed to know. Ethan had been upfront in the beginning and nothing less was expected. Clear communication was what kept them ahead of every other security agency out there. Crest ran a tight ship for a reason and CSA’s reputation spoke for itself. If there was a potential for something to interfere with this investigation, he needed to know.
“No.” The line went silent, and by the time Ethan spoke again Crest was already exiting the elevator. “I’m just surprised that we would pull Fallon in again.”
Crest shook his head, knowing full well how uncomfortable it was to be in the same room with an ex-lover. Ethan and Fallon would have to get over the awkwardness and figure out a way to work together. Crest pulled his cardkey out of his workout shorts and placed it in the console. He then punched in his personal security PIN, thereby gaining entrance to his apartment. He walked straight through the open living room area without flipping on the lights and into his kitchen, where he overrode the programmed time on the Astra coffee center by hitting the right series of buttons.
“Make it work.” Crest went to his refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of his favorite refreshment. Twisting off the cap, he chugged the Lauquen mineral water until it was half gone and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll meet you at the office.”
Crest disconnected the line and then set his phone down on the obsidian quartz-topped island. The aroma of his favorite Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee permeated the air as he walked toward his bedroom. He would shower first and wash away the sweat that he’d accumulated during his measly sixty-minute workout. He would surely make up for it later on tonight when his insomnia hit again.
He would have to call building security later today and let them know about the delivery of his new workout machines after he called the club’s sports trainer that owed him some favors. Why settle for some half-assed equipment when he could afford the best available? Doing anything other than what he really wanted to do was essential to his mental state. With that decision made, he would also line up the blonde he’d stopped seeing several months ago. She’d made her availability known when they’d had a recent chance encounter.
Returning to his old habits might be just what he needed to ease some of the tension that didn’t seem to want to bleed off from his current load. Existence was about the choices a person made. Now that Crest had made his, he felt slightly better about the day and whistled as he entered his bathroom. Adapt, improvise, and overcome. It was one hell of a motto.
Chapter One