The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 208

*Agent Naomi Bennett*

By two in the morning, I officially hated both Marcus Hale and Asher West. Not casually either. Deeply. Personally.

The FBI command center temporarily established downtown looked like complete chaos now. Phones ringing nonstop. Agents moving between desks carrying files and tablets. Half-drunk coffee cups everywhere.

And somehow… Marcus and Asher still vanished.

I stood near the massive digital map projected across the far wall while Locke worked beside one of the analysts reviewing traffic footage frame by frame.

“Nothing from the airport?” I asked sharply.

The analyst shook his head. “No commercial flights under their names.”

Of course not.

Marcus Hale knew federal tracking procedures better than most people inside this building.

Fake identities.

Cash payments.

Avoiding major transit hubs.

The man knew exactly how investigations tightened.

Which made him dangerous as hell.

Locke finally stepped back toward me holding another tablet. “We got activity from Marcus’s federal work phone roughly forty minutes after Hargrove’s arrest.”

I turned immediately. “Where?”

“Downtown parking garage near the waterfront.”

That wasn’t good. Not even remotely. “Car?”

“Abandoned.”

Of course it was.

Locke handed me the tablet and surveillance images immediately appeared across the screen.

Marcus exiting the garage in dark civilian clothes with a duffel bag over one shoulder.

Baseball cap.

No federal vehicle.

No visible weapon.

But his posture alone screamed trained federal agent.

The image shifted farther ahead.

And there... Asher West.

Tall.

Expensive coat.

Moving quickly beside Marcus toward a black SUV.

My jaw tightened immediately. “There.”

Locke nodded once grimly. “We’re pulling traffic cams trying to track the SUV now.”

I stared down at the still image for another second.

Marcus looked calm. Too calm. That bothered me more than panic honestly. Because panicked people made mistakes. Prepared people disappeared.

“Any financial movement?” I asked.

Another analyst spoke up from nearby. “Asher withdrew seventy thousand in cash from multiple accounts over the last forty-eight hours.”

Jesus Christ.

“He was preparing to run before Hargrove got arrested,” Locke muttered.

Yes. Absolutely.

I rubbed one hand slowly across my face before looking back toward the map wall again. “So where do two intelligent desperate men go?”

Locke crossed his arms tightly beside me. “Somewhere without immediate federal oversight.”

“International?”

“Possible.”

I nodded slightly while thinking through it.

Marcus had federal training.

Asher had money.

Both knew the case was collapsing.

And now Hargrove was cooperating fully.

That meant they understood exactly what came next, financial tracing, federal indictments, conspiracy charges, witness testimony. Neither man was surviving trial cleanly anymore.

A younger agent hurried toward us suddenly holding another file. “Agent Bennett.”

I turned immediately.

“We recovered additional communications from Hale’s encrypted backup server.”

Oh?

The younger agent handed over the tablet quickly. And immediately my stomach dropped.

Because there were photographs.

Dozens of them. Ashcroft Industries. The executive floor. Parking garages. Violet Pierce.

My jaw tightened instantly.

Several photos focused specifically on her.

Walking to her car.

Leaving work.

Entering restaurants.

Jesus Christ.

Locke saw them too and swore quietly under his breath. “He was tracking her.”

No. Worse. He was studying her.

Routine patterns.

Movement habits.

Security weaknesses.

I kept flipping.

Then suddenly... Another image.

Theo.

Camille.

Devin.

The entire inner circle.

Cold settled heavily into my chest immediately.

Because Rowan had been right. If Marcus and Asher decided retaliation was their best option before disappearing permanently… The Ashcrofts were targets.

I immediately pulled out my phone.

Locke looked toward me sharply. “You calling Rowan?”

“Yes.”

“Tell him to stay hidden.”

Oh trust me. That was absolutely the plan now.

The phone rang twice before Rowan finally answered quietly. “Bennett.”

“We recovered surveillance files from Marcus.”

Silence instantly. Then colder, “How bad?”

I stared back down at the photographs again. Bad enough that my stomach genuinely turned.

“He was tracking all of you.” Another pause. “Extensively.”

I heard movement on Rowan’s end immediately. Probably standing now.

Probably already planning five different security contingencies simultaneously.

“We're not in Seattle anymore,” he said quietly.

Good.

“Keep it that way,” I answered immediately. “Until we find them, nobody returns to the city unnecessarily.” I lowered my voice slightly. “Marcus documented routines, Rowan.”

That silence told me enough. He understood exactly what that meant. Then finally, “They won’t touch Violet.”

The dangerous calmness in his voice actually concerned me slightly.

Because men like Rowan Ashcroft did not threaten loudly.

They promised quietly.

I looked back toward the projected map again while agents continued searching across flights, private charters, ferries, rental records, and financial movements.

“We’ll find them,” I said firmly.

Hopefully before they decided running wasn’t their only option left.

“Keep Violet close,” I said firmly into the phone.

Rowan’s voice stayed cold and controlled on the other end.

“She’s not leaving my sight.”

Good.

Because after seeing those surveillance photos?

I genuinely believed Marcus Hale had been building contingency plans long before Hargrove got arrested.

“Stay vigilant,” I warned quietly. “Both of you.”

Then I ended the call before either of us could spiral further into worst-case scenarios.

The second I lowered my phone, the younger agent from earlier was already hurrying back toward us again looking pale.

Not nervous pale. Adrenaline pale.

That immediately got my attention. “What?”

He swallowed quickly before holding up another tablet. “I tracked the SUV.”

Locke immediately straightened beside me. “Where did it go?”

The agent looked deeply unsettled now. “That’s the thing…”

Oh no.

He turned the tablet toward us and pulled up the mapped traffic route from downtown Seattle.

The black SUV leaving the waterfront garage.

Moving through downtown.

Crossing three separate intersections.

Then finally... Stopping.

My stomach tightened instantly.

Because the GPS overlay blinked directly over one location.

*Ashcroft Industries.*

The room went silent.

Locke frowned immediately beside me. “What?”

The younger agent nodded quickly. “The SUV entered Ashcroft Industries’ underground parking structure approximately fifty-six minutes ago.”

I stared at the screen carefully. Then at the timestamp. Then back at the building marker.

No.

That didn’t make sense.

“They’re still there?” Locke asked sharply.

“We think so.”

Think so was not comforting. At all.

I grabbed the tablet fully from the agent while zooming in on the parking structure footage.

*There.*

The black SUV entering the secured underground garage beneath Ashcroft Industries.

Marcus driving.

Asher in the passenger seat.

Both calm.

Neither looked rushed. Which somehow made this worse. Much worse. Because men planning to flee didn’t usually drive directly toward the headquarters of the man currently connected to the federal investigation destroying their lives.

So what the hell were they doing?

Locke looked toward me slowly. “You think they’re after records?”

Maybe.

Ashcroft Industries held legal contracts, financial archives, permit documentation, internal security systems.

And Asher knew the building layout already. Too well honestly.

But something still felt wrong.

Marcus Hale was trained federal intelligence.

He wouldn’t corner himself inside a high-profile corporate building unless he had a reason.

Or leverage.

Then suddenly... Oh no.

I looked up sharply.