Chapter 5 Satan’s Lackey #2
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been trying to get in touch with you?”
“Hello to you too, Dad. I’m doing well, thanks for asking.”
“Cut the shit, Waverly Nicole. I’m a busy man.”
“Well then”––I slouched back against my chair––“let me make this easy. You’ve got exactly two minutes until I disconnect this call. The clock is ticking, Senator.”
He grumbled something under his breath, then gruffed, “I’m being investigated.”
A smile lit my face. Maybe it was wrong of me to take pleasure from those three words, but I was all out of fucks to give. The man used his wealth and position to wreak havoc on the wrong side of the law. It was about damn time his criminal behavior was brought to light.
“I need you to find out what they have on me.”
And there it was. The real reason for his borderline harassing phone calls.
“Did you hear me?”
“Loud and clear.”
“Well?”
“I’m just trying to figure out how any of this would be my problem.”
“You ungrateful little bit––”
Pulling the phone away from my ear, I hung up, then quickly dialed my boss.
“Special Agent Mitchell. Thank you for getting back to me so quickly.”
Roger Ashland didn’t pull any punches. Before his promotion to director, he’d been my mentor, taking me under his wing after I graduated from Quantico. He was on the short list of people who knew about my tenuous relationship with my father.
“How bad?” I asked.
“You’ve talked to him.” It wasn’t a question.
“Literally just hung up on the good Senator. Hit me with it.”
“He stepped in it this time, Waverly. We’re talking federal bribery, misappropriation of campaign funds, voter fraud, and last but not least, sexual harassment.”
“Jesus.” I wiped a hand down my face. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Please, do not apologize. He made the choice to be a corrupt piece of shit years ago, Roger. That’s on him, not you.”
“I’ll do my best to protect you from as much of the fallout as I can.”
“Appreciated, but not necessary. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to defend myself because of my last name. The haters will hate ’til the cows come home, but my track record speaks for itself.”
“Regardless, I’m here if you need to talk.” The concern was evident in his voice.
“I’ve got your number.” Moving on, I asked, “What’s the timeline?”
“Slow and steady. It could be a week; it could be six. We’re making sure all of our I’s are dotted and our T’s are crossed before an official arrest is made.”
“Good.” The impending drama added another layer on top of my already overloaded plate. What else was new? If it wasn’t one thing it was another. Good thing I was a master juggler. “Talk later.”
I ended the second call and gave myself a minute to let the news sink in.
Disappointment flooded my veins, followed closely by anger; both emotions I was well acquainted with.
No matter how much I told myself not to bother, a tiny piece of me still cared about what happened to my father.
Lord only knew why. It wasn’t as if the man gave a damn about me or mine.
Unfortunately, it took two life-altering occasions before I reached that ugly conclusion.
The first was when he didn’t show up for Aunt Carolyn’s funeral.
While I stood graveside with my great-aunt Jean, watching until the final fleck of dirt covered the pale pink casket, Dad was busy scraping together votes on the campaign trail.
The second was after he cut me off financially when I announced I was joining the FBI.
The joke was on him though. I didn’t want or need his dirty money.
Mom made certain I was well taken care of.
Her life insurance policy was more than I could spend in a lifetime, which was why the majority of it was currently collecting interest in a high-yield savings account.
Since then, I’ve tried to cut him out of every aspect of my life, though my efforts have proven difficult.
You’d think he’d let me go without a fuss, except that would mean he’d lost control; control of me and the situation.
No way in hell would Senator Mitchell ever admit defeat without making himself look like the victim.
Funny thing was, I’m sure victim status was exactly what he’d claim as soon as the bars slammed shut on his new six-by-eight federal accommodations. Too bad no one would be there to listen to him bluster.
Finn
What should have taken weeks, if not months, was accomplished in a mere ten days, thanks to the power of the almighty dollar.
True to his word, Lewis worked his realtor magic.
Three million dollars later, the entirety of my New York operation was crated, bubble-wrapped, then carefully driven across three states before the ink had a chance to dry on the check.
Noreen had been a godsend, organizing the entire move while ensuring each of my employees had access to an apartment for lease.
The building went from empty to fully functional in the blink of an eye.
Honestly, I have no idea how she did it all so quickly, I’m just glad she and Joel made it to Huntington so fast.
Another thing I was grateful for is the fact Sloane decided to take the twins to go stay with her mom for a while in Tennessee.
As much as I loved my sister and the munchkins, I needed them out of the line of fire more.
Their safety was paramount, which was also why I didn’t relent on their security detail.
Until this whole mess was resolved, they’d have twenty-four-hour protection, no matter how much Sloane bitched about it.
In a surprising turn of events, it was Waverly who talked my fiery sister off the ledge. The night of my––so called––accident, they met via video chat while I was cooking dinner and that was all she wrote. They became instant friends and like I knew she would, Waverly fit seamlessly into my life.
“Are you ready for tonight, bossman?”
Noreen hovered in the threshold of my newly decorated office. The gleam in her eye had nothing to do with business, and everything to do with the fact she and Joel were meeting Waverly and me for dinner after work.
“As long as you promise to be on your best behavior.”
“Who me?” Her hand flew to her chest dramatically. “I’m a pillar of good behavior.”
“Should we ask your husband?”
“Ask her husband what?” Joel slid in behind her, propping his chin on her shoulder.
“Finn insinuated I’m anything other than a saint.”
“Because he knows you well, love,” he returned, earning a quick jab of her elbow to his stomach. “Ooph.”
“I’m simply asking you not to scare her off.” I stood, slipping my phone into the left inside pocket of my suit jacket. “She’s skittish as it is, so if you start planning our wedding at the dinner table, she might bolt.”
Noreen rolled her eyes. “Psh. The planning has already commenced.”
“Feckin’ hell.”
Tension crept up my spine, burrowing into my shoulders.
I had enough on my mind without adding my overly enthusiastic assistant to the mix.
Waverly’s team was hard at work investigating, yet they were nowhere close to coming up with a name.
Sleep was almost as evasive as whoever was behind the threats.
Even when I did manage to close my eyes, it didn’t last long.
I was running on empty, physically and emotionally. Something had to give.
“I’m playing, Finn.” Noreen took hold of my arm, stopping me as I skirted past the pair. “Sort of. You know I’d never do anything to jeopardize your happiness. It’s all we’ve ever wanted for you. You’re the son we never had.”
“I know.” Bending down, I kissed her on the cheek. “Sorry.”
“All’s well, my boy. Now, go get your girl.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. With one more quick peck on her cheek, I took off down the hallway, hopped on the elevator, and rode it to the ground floor.
When the silver doors slid open, Wes was waiting against the far wall.
He’d become my shadow whenever I left the building until I was tucked in at home each night.
Tonight, would be the exception to the rule, only because I’d be surrounded by Joel plus my badass, gun-toting FBI agent.
So far, the arrangement worked for us. Our only argument occurred when he insisted on being my chauffeur.
Needless to say, once I politely reminded him that I signed his paychecks, not the other way around, he wisely saw things my way.
Pulling up outside the FBI building, nervous flutters erupted in my stomach.
It was fair to say my father and I didn’t have the best relationship.
Actually, since I started my own company, our communication came mostly in the form of insults and jabs through email or text messages.
Mom, on the other hand, was a good woman, just not a very invested mother.
She’d found a quiet life for herself on the shores of Maine, where she spent the majority of her day crocheting blankets for the homeless.
We spoke maybe once a month and saw each other around Christmas.
Which left Sloane and the kids as my closest relatives, along with Noreen and Joel, who were the parents of my heart.
The five of them were my family. Their opinions were the only ones I cared about.
Well…and now Waverly made the short list. Dinner needed to go off without a hitch.
“Hey, Mr. O’Lachlan,” Sammy greeted me when I walked through the double doors. “Waverly’s in her office.”
“It’s Finn, Sammy, please.” I stopped in front of her desk. “Is it okay if I head on back?”
“She’s just finishing up a call, but I’m sure it’s fine. Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Coffee? Soda?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
I proceeded past her station, then turned left down the far hallway. As I approached Waverly’s office, Duncan stuck his head out of his.
“Do you have a minute?”