Chapter 5 Satan’s Lackey
Waverly
My surroundings were a blur as I flew down the road with lights and sirens on full blast. I’m sure I looked like a wild woman when I took off, sprinting out of the office without a word as to why.
No one tried to intervene, although Duncan was hot on my tail.
He jumped in the passenger seat and remained quiet, even after my call connected with the car’s Bluetooth.
By the way his fingers flew over his phone, he’d caught on to what was happening and was relaying the information to the rest of the team.
When we skidded to a stop at the scene of the accident, an emotion I’d never experienced before clawed at my chest. Jealousy. Finn and my best friend were side by side, leaning up against her car, while another officer stood in front of them. They were close…way too close in my personal opinion.
At forty-three, Shayne was five years older than me.
Her ash-blond hair was cut into a tapered pixie bob which framed her slender face and highlighted her hazel eyes.
She was beautiful and very much not into men, which made my reaction all the more strange.
From the way her eyes lit up in amusement on my approach, Shayne noticed too.
Just great. I’d never live this down.
“Here’s the report number for your insurance company, Mr. O’Lachlan. I’ll be in touch if I find anything.” The Huntington police officer handed him a piece of paper, then headed back to his patrol car.
Stowing the green-eyed beast away, I pulled my shit together long enough to ask Finn, “Are you okay?”
“I’m pissed.”
“Pissed beats dead,” Duncan interjected.
He grunted his agreement.
Before I could do something embarrassing, like put my hands all over him to check for myself that he was uninjured, I turned to Shayne.
“What do you have?”
“Black Dodge Ram,” she answered. “Older model. I didn’t get close enough to see the plate.”
“Dammit, I don’t like this,” I seethed.
“Nobody likes a drunk driver, Waverly,” Shayne quipped. “Especially so early in the afternoon.”
“I wish it were that simple, Shayne.”
Finn nodded when I glanced in his direction, giving me the permission I sought.
For the next ten minutes or so, I brought her up to speed about the threats he’d been getting.
She listened intently, and by the time I finished, she understood why there was doubt as to whether the hit-and-run was, in fact, an accident.
In the meantime, the tow truck arrived. The driver hooked a cable to the underside of the SUV, then used a winch to ease it out of the small ditch it had landed in.
From the minimal amount of visible damage, it appeared drivable, though the idea of Finn behind the wheel again made goosebumps skitter down my spine.
“Do you want me to haul it to Mo’s?” the driver called out.
Mo’s was the garage the FBI used to service our vehicles. They were fast yet thorough. I was on the cusp of instructing him to load the SUV onto the flatbed when Finn answered, much to my displeasure.
“Not necessary. Appreciate your time though.”
Shayne interlinked her arm with mine. “Take a walk with me.”
“I—”
“That wasn’t a request.”
She moved, I followed, since the alternative would’ve been to dig my literal heels into the asphalt and they were far too pretty to scuff up. We didn’t go far, since we were in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere, on a heavily wooded backcountry road.
“Spill it, Way.”
I had two options; continue to live in my denial era or face my fears. Both scared the hell out of me; however, my best friend scared me more.
“I’m in deep,” I admitted reluctantly.
“No shit,” she deadpanned. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t have the first damn clue, but I’ll have to figure it out quickly. He’s packing up his entire life, including his business, to move here, Shayne. Who does that?”
“Someone who has brains to go with their pretty face.”
“I’m being serious here.”
“So am I.” She stopped abruptly, whirling around to face me. “He’d be a fool to let you slip through his fingers. Obviously Finn realized that and took the necessary steps to ensure it didn’t happen.”
“It’s too fast, too soon.”
“Says who?” Shayne tilted her head. “You, of all people, know tomorrow isn’t a guarantee, especially in our line of work. I say ride the bus and if the wheels fall off, it wasn’t meant to be. But…what if it is?”
Finn seemed to think so. He said as much at dinner last night.
The problem was me. I’d shut myself off from love.
Every single intimate relationship I’ve had since Aunt Carolyn had been doomed from the start.
In my mind, if my heart didn't get involved, there wouldn’t be any pain when I ultimately lost them.
Logically, I knew it was bullshit, I just didn’t know how to turn it off.
“I told Finn I’d try.”
“Good.” She relooped her arm in mine, then steered us back toward the vehicles. “I’ll need regular updates, Way.”
She was still rambling on about needing the “juicy details” when my gaze found Finn’s. He’d walked away from Duncan and was talking to someone on the phone. From the way his eyebrows were pinched together, the conversation was intense. I veered off, moving to his side.
“Please tell her to stop worrying. I’m fine, Joel. Not even a scratch” He reached out, tagging my hand while listening closely to whatever else his head of security had to say. “Good. I’m going back to the house next. Have him meet me there. I’ll call you later.”
Finn pulled the phone away from his ear, touched the red circle with his thumb, then shoved it in his back pocket.
“Who’s going to your house?”
“Wes.” At my confused look, he explained, “Joel has a few loose ends to tie up in New York before he can come here. Until then, he wanted one of his men with me at all times.”
“Do you trust this guy?”
“I’ve known Wes for about five years.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I trust Joel.”
He was saved from further interrogation when Shayne called out, “If you two are done being cute, I’ve got to head back to work.”
I had no idea what she was talking about until I realized both she and Duncan were staring at us.
Somehow during our chat, Finn’s hands had found their way to my hips, mine were on his biceps.
It was an intimate position, one I wasn’t ready for the rest of the world to see, nor was I prepared to dissect why it felt so damn right.
Ignoring the sudden ache in my chest, I stepped out of his hold and cleared my throat. “We need to get back as well.”
Despite what I said, I stood on the side of that back road watching until Finn’s SUV disappeared from sight. Then once the doors closed on my government-issued vehicle, Duncan went full-on investigator mode, and he didn’t mince words.
“Working under the assumption this is related to the shit happening in New York, we’ve got bigger issues than we originally thought. Pictures and vandalism are one thing. Trying to run him off the road is a major fucking escalation. It screams personal to me.”
“Same.”
“We need to shift our focus. Disgruntled employees, exes who didn’t want to be exes; anyone who might have it out for Finn enough to want him injured.”
I swallowed roughly. “Or dead.”
“We need Nelson to hit those employment files ASAP.”
“Agreed.”
The afternoon didn’t go as planned. Soon after we’d left, an anonymous tip came into the office regarding possible insurance fraud involving a medical equipment company and three local assisted living facilities.
The caller alleged the house doctor—who was the same at all the facilities—was signing prescriptions for equipment that was charged to the residents’ insurance companies, yet the residents never received said equipment.
While Keaton and Noah took point on Finn’s case, Lanie and Koen would handle the fraud investigation, which should be rather cut-and-dried.
Either the equipment was there or it wasn’t.
The hardest part would be proving intent by all parties involved.
There wasn’t a doubt in my mind they’d get to the bottom of it.
We may have had one of the smaller satellite offices in the country, as far as bodies in the building went, but we were damn mighty. My team ran like a well-oiled machine, plus our track record for solving cases was next level.
Sammy followed me down the hall to my office, staying in the doorway while I settled in the leather chair behind my desk. Her behavior was enough to set off a symphony of warning bells.
“Out with it, Sammy.”
“You had two calls while you were gone.” She was kind enough to wince before turning my day into a shit-tastic dumpster fire. “Director Ashland and Senator Mitchell.”
Fuck my life.
It wasn’t unusual for my boss to check in; however, the fact my sperm donor called on the same day didn’t give me the warm and fuzzies.
Actually, it made my stomach turn. Nothing good ever came from a conversation with dear ole dad, which was why his calls had gone unanswered for the past two years.
Senator Jack Mitchell was a narcissistic dick.
He was also dirty as hell, in my opinion, though he’d never actually been caught with his pants down, unlike Uncle Adam.
On paper, the Senator was an upstanding citizen.
Once upon a time, when my mother was alive, he had been or close to it, but everything changed with her diagnosis.
Evil spread through his mind like wildfire, stealing away my loving father and leaving Satan's lackey in his place.
As far as I was concerned, I lost both my parents the day we buried her.
“Lovely,” I replied, squeezing the bridge of my nose to stave off the impending headache.
“Coffee?” Sammy inquired.
“Only if you have something stronger than French vanilla creamer to go in it.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
She left, closing the door behind her. Squeezing my eyes shut, I took three deep breaths before picking up the receiver of my desk phone. The first ring hadn’t even completed when his gruff voice filled my ear.