The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 192

***Agent Naomi Bennett***

By nine thirty the next morning, the storm had finally passed. But somehow the city felt worse today than it had last night.

Like everybody could feel something breaking beneath the surface.

Agent Locke parked the SUV directly across from Evelyn Hargrove’s townhouse while I studied the building quietly through the windshield.

Expensive neighborhood. Old money architecture. Too many security cameras.

Interesting.

Locke adjusted his tie slightly before glancing toward me. “You think she runs?”

“No.” That answer came immediately.

Women like Evelyn Hargrove didn’t run early. They stayed calm. Controlled. Certain.

Until the very last second.

That made them more dangerous.

We stepped out onto the wet sidewalk together before heading toward the townhouse entrance.

Everything about the place screamed political money. Perfect landscaping. Polished brass fixtures. Fresh flowers near the entryway despite the storm.

Interesting priorities.

I knocked firmly against the dark wooden door once.

Then waited. It only took about ten seconds before the door opened.

And there she was.

Evelyn Hargrove looked immaculate. Of course she did. Cream colored silk blouse. Perfect makeup. Hair styled flawlessly despite the weather outside.

Not a single visible crack in her composure.

It irritated me immediately.

But what caught my attention first wasn’t her appearance.

It was the fact she didn’t look surprised to see us.

Not even slightly.

Her lips curved into a soft practiced smile instead. “Well,” she said calmly. “The FBI. I was wondering how long that would take.”

Beside me, Locke stayed perfectly neutral.

But I caught the tiny shift in his jaw.

She expected us. Which meant one thing. Someone tipped her off.

Hargrove stepped aside casually. “Please. Come in.”

The townhouse interior looked exactly like I expected. Elegant. Expensive. Calculated.

Everything placed perfectly. Nothing personal enough to reveal anything meaningful.

I stepped farther inside slowly while scanning the room automatically.

And then... Movement near the kitchen doorway. A man stepped into view carrying two coffee mugs.

One black. One cream.

Wearing a dark gray robe.

I stopped walking immediately.

Interesting.

Very fucking interesting.

Because I recognized him instantly.

Asher West. The mayor’s attorney.

I’d seen him standing beside the Mayor during at least six public press conferences over the past year. City contracts. Legal disputes. Development hearings.

And now suddenly… He was standing barefoot inside Evelyn Hargrove’s townhouse bringing her coffee like this was completely normal.

Oh.

Oh that was bad.

Beside me, Locke noticed too. I could feel it instantly from the subtle tension shift beside me.

But professionally? Neither of us reacted outwardly. Years of training existed for moments exactly like this.

Asher paused slightly after seeing us. Only slightly. Then immediately recovered.

“Hargrove,” he said smoothly while handing her one of the mugs. “You didn’t mention federal visitors.”

The familiarity in his tone practically screamed at me now that I was listening for it.

Hargrove accepted the coffee easily. Comfortably. Like this happened often.

“Asher West,” Locke greeted calmly.

Asher’s eyes shifted toward him immediately. Recognition. Calculation.

Lawyer mode activating.

“Agent…” Asher said smoothly.

“Locke.”

“Right.” Asher offered a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Can I ask why the FBI is questioning Councilwoman Hargrove without notifying legal representation first?”

There it was. Not surprise. Control. Narrative management.

I stepped forward slightly before answering calmly. “She hasn’t been charged with anything at this time.”

“At this time,” Asher repeated carefully.

Hargrove said nothing.

Just quietly sipped her coffee while watching both of us over the rim of the mug.

Too calm.

Way too calm.

“Asher,” she said softly without looking away from me, “would you mind?”

That one sentence told me everything I needed to know.

Not Mr. West. Not Counselor. Asher. Personal.

Asher stepped slightly closer toward her automatically. Protective positioning.

Oh you have got to be kidding me.

“I’d still advise caution,” he said carefully.

Locke finally stepped fully into the room then.

And unlike me?

Locke had less patience for political games. His voice stayed calm. But colder now.

“Mr. West,” he said evenly, “we’re investigating multiple homicides, widespread police corruption, obstruction of justice, witness intimidation, and unauthorized database access tied directly to individuals associated with Councilwoman Hargrove.”

Locke continued calmly.

“If cooperation becomes an issue, we can absolutely continue this conversation downtown instead.”

Silence settled instantly across the townhouse. Heavy. Sharp.

Asher studied Locke for a long moment. Calculating.

Then finally stepped back slightly. Not far. But enough.

“Understood.”

Hargrove finally sighed softly like all of this was simply exhausting her personally. “Agents,” she said smoothly, “before we continue, I’d like to know exactly what accusations are being made against me.”

I didn’t answer immediately. Because that wasn’t a request for information.

It was a strategy. She wanted us talking. Wanted specifics. Wanted to measure evidence.

Classic.

So instead I answered carefully. “We’re here to discuss your connections to Detective Calder, Avery Quinneth, and several ongoing investigations involving the local Police Department.”

Hargrove tilted her head slightly. “And why exactly would I know anything about that?”

I watched her quietly for another second before speaking again.

“Avery Quinneth provided a statement.”

For the first time since we arrived… Something flickered across Hargrove’s face. Not panic. Annoyance.

Interesting.

But it vanished almost instantly.

“She worked briefly in my office,” Hargrove replied smoothly. “I can’t control what unstable employees choose to say after traumatic experiences.”

Unstable. Discrediting immediately. Predictable.

Locke folded his arms slowly beside me. “She also provided documentation.”

“Did she?” Hargrove asked calmly.

No reaction. No concern. Just questions. Always redirecting.

Asher finally spoke again carefully from beside her.

“My client won’t be answering speculative questions without formal charges.”

Client.

Interesting choice considering the robe situation.

I stared at him quietly for another second before finally asking, “How long have you been representing Councilwoman Hargrove, Mr. West?”

The room shifted instantly.

Asher asked then. “Legally?”

Hargrove smiled faintly into her coffee.

And suddenly… I understood exactly how she’d stayed one step ahead for so long.

Not because she was smarter than everybody else.

Because she had access.

Direct access.

To the mayor’s legal strategy.

To city development meetings.

To internal disputes.

To permit discussions.

Jesus Christ.

Every single thing Rowan Ashcroft tried to build had probably been handed directly back to her before it ever reached city approval.

No wonder she always looked prepared.

My phone suddenly vibrated sharply against the inside pocket of my blazer.

I pulled the phone free while glancing briefly at the caller ID.

Director Graves.

Well.

That couldn’t possibly mean anything good.

“Excuse me,” I said calmly before stepping toward the townhouse entryway.

Hargrove smiled faintly behind me. “Of course.”

I stepped outside onto the front porch before answering immediately.

“Bennett.”

“Tell me you’re still with her.”

No greeting. Straight to the point.

My stomach tightened instantly. “I’m here now.”

“Good.” Papers shuffled heavily over the line. “Do not let Evelyn Hargrove out of your sight.”

My grip tightened slightly around the phone. “What happened?”

“We got enough.”

My pulse spiked immediately.

“Federal warrants are already being processed. Financial crimes signed off thirty minutes ago.” Another pause. “We also just got access to Calder’s deleted backup files.”

Oh.

“What was in them?”

“Enough conspiracy charges to bury half the damn city council.”

Jesus Christ.

Thunder rolled faintly somewhere far off across the city again.

Graves’ voice lowered now. “Listen to me carefully, Bennett.”

That tone immediately sharpened every instinct I had. “She’s dangerous now.”

Not before. Now.

Meaning.... cornered. The worst kind of predator.

“We believe she knows we’re closing in,” Graves continued. “Do not leave her unattended under any circumstances.” More papers shuffled loudly. “Additional agents are already en route.”