Dynasty: A Mafia Collection

by Jen Davis

  “Agent Lawton,” Doug said in greeting.

  “Doug,” Hunter replied, getting comfortable in his chair without looking at Finley.

  “Who the hell is this?” Finley asked, indicating Judd.

  Judd was silent and observed the interviewee. Mack Finley was twenty-seven years old and cocky. His orange jumpsuit had a smell to it that suggested it probably hadn’t been washed in a few days, his jet-black hair was slicked back with what smelled like grease and shit, and he wore a smug grin that showed teeth that occasionally had a passing acquaintance with a toothbrush.

  “This is Agent Fowler,” Hunter flatly replied as he helped himself to a cup of coffee from the tray on the table.

  Finley gave Judd a look of repugnance, his eyes slanted and his mouth drawn tight. “I don’t want him here.”

  “Too damn bad,” Hunter said.

  Finley’s face tightened in avid disappointment and he slumped in his chair, crossing his arms in front of him as Hunter sat back, sipping his coffee.

  Finley gave his lawyer a glare, then turned to Hunter, who was looking back at Finley casually and uncaring. The lack of importance and urgency they were showing wasn’t what Finley was expecting or wanting.

  Hunter smiled into his coffee cup as he pictured Dennis sitting behind the glass, feet propped up, reading the newspaper.

  “Let’s start with why we’re here,” Doug said in an attempt to move things along.

  Finley gave a wide smile like he had a secret he was dying to tell but waiting for the right time. “Okay, I only did what I did because I was told to. It was my job to deliver from point A to point B and make sure the delivery got there on time and in one piece. When I got pulled over, the cops started asking me all kinds of questions about what I had in the car and why was I acting all twitchy, walking around my car all suspicious like I was hiding something. If that delivery wouldn’t have been made, my ass would have been in the ground long before you got to me. The only reason you caught me was because I got sent down here again and was stupid enough to drive from Atlantic City on the same route.”

  “Stupid is one way of saying it,” Hunter said.

  Finley leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. The sleeves of his jumpsuit slid up, revealing a simple tattoo on his right inner forearm. His tattoo was nothing special, just a badly faded and indeterminable letter of the alphabet in black outline, three inches long and one inch wide.

  Finley said with a hard look, “You don’t fuck with this guy I work for. He says and you do. You don’t and you die. It’s that simple. I did what I was told. I’d rather be in jail than on the receiving end of him being pissed off, that’s for sure.”

  “And you don’t think testifying against him will piss him off?” Judd asked, and was answered with a hard glare from Finley.

  “I get witness protection, then I won’t have to worry about that. Will I?”

  “You traveled a lot to make your deliveries, right?” Judd asked.

  “Sure.”

  “All over the country or just specific places?”

  “East Coast, man. All up and down the East Coast.”

  “So you delivered to multiple locations and dealt with a lot of different people. What about the people you delivered to for the first time? How did they know you were the guy to deal with?”

  “They just did.”

  Judd sat back and inclined his head, indicating Finley’s tattoo. “I just thought maybe they knew who you were because of your tattoo.”

  Finley immediately tensed as Hunter leaned forward and grabbed his arm to get a closer look at the tattoo.

  “Hey!” Finley shouted.

  Doug reached over and pulled Hunter’s grip off Finley’s arm. “Come on, Agent. You know better than that. Let him go.”

  Finley rubbed his arm. “What the fuck, man? It’s just a tattoo.”

  Hunter wisely kept his mouth shut in an effort to calm down before speaking again.

  “So he’s the bad cop and you’re the good cop?” Finley asked Judd.

  “Let’s just move this along,” Doug said, then turned to Hunter. “You good?”

  Keeping his focus on Finley, Hunter nodded.

  “Okay,” Judd said. “So, just for clarification—and you’ve already admitted this—you did what you did because you would rather face federal prison than piss off your boss?”

  “So?” Finley said with a scoff.

  “Then I guess I’m confused,” Judd said. “If you’re so afraid of this man, why are you willing to turn on him now?”

  “Because I don’t want to go to federal prison, and if I talk to you, Uncle Sam will take care of me. I’d rather be alive in witness protection than dead anywhere else.”

  Hunter spoke, his irritation rapidly growing. “So what does this have to do with me? Why did you want me here when you could just have your attorney deal with it?”

  Finley leaned forward as far as he could and spoke in a cool voice. “Because I know something you don’t know, and if I tell you, I’m pretty sure you’ll help me.” Finley leaned back and shrugged his shoulders. “Then again, you never know.”

  Doug caught both Hunter’s and Judd’s eye and gave a slight, solemn nod. Yes, Hunter would find the information interesting after all.

  Hunter looked back to Finley. “Yeah? And what do you know that I don’t?”

  Finley’s grin widened enough so the corners of his mouth reached the bottom of his eyes. Relaxing in his chair, Finley spoke like he had the winning lottery numbers in his pocket. “The guy I work for, he’s a big mucky-muck on the East Coast, owns a bunch of hotels and casinos. He has a lot of business going through there, if you know what I mean. I tell you, man, Atlantic City would shut down if this guy goes down.” Finley was obviously hoping for some kind of reaction and got nothing, so he continued. “Anyway, I’m in Atlantic City and his guy comes up to me and says the man wants to see me. So, I go up there, he gives me a couple suitcases and says to take them down here. So, I do.”

  “We know all this, Finley. Get to the point,” Hunter interrupted impatiently.

  Finley raised his hands. “Okay, okay. Jesus, man. I’m getting to it. So anyway, I’m down here now, what? Two years? Guys in prison, they like to talk, and they talk about all kinds of stuff. But what caught my ear was that a few of the guys in there know you—well, hate you is more like it. Anyway, they were talking, trading stories and shit, and I heard about your wife.”

  Hunter’s eyes widened in surprise, then quickly squinted, staring at Finley with dangerous curiosity.

  Judd cast a cautious sideways glance at Hunter. Doug sat silently and gave Hunter an apologetic look. Finley gave a satisfied and cruel grin.

  Hunter hardened his face and spoke in a calm, yet demanding tone. “What about my wife?”

  “I know who killed her,” Mack said smugly as he wiped his nose with his sleeve, “and I know who ordered it. The good news is that you don’t have to worry about it anymore. The guy who did it got shanked a few years back, so there’s that.”

  Hunter was breathing deeply through his nose, glaring at Finley with the full intention of throwing him through the window behind him.

  Finley leaned forward again. “I hear she was a real beauty, that wife of yours. I also hear she had herself a tattoo on her back. A flower, right? A rose?”

  Hunter continued his hard stare. “What about it?”

  Finley was starting to twitch in his seat, excited by the reaction he got from the FBI agent. “There’s a bunch of other women with the same tattoo who are ending up in the morgue too.”

  Hunter’s mind raced to the only logical thing Mack could say next. It would be the same thing he heard the other night with Chloe.

  Finley leaned back in his chair, resting his hands across his chest with a satisfied grin. “Well, now, seems your wife and these other dead girls with that tattoo all work for the same guy. The same guy I work for. The same guy who ordered the hit on your wife and the same guy I am willing
to tell you about for protection.”

  Hunter desperately wanted to lunge across the table and strangle Mack Finley where he sat. Judd saw it and turned to Finley, asking the question he already knew the answer to. “Who’s your boss, Mack?”

  Hunter could see from the look on his face that Finley was having second thoughts. “Hey, you came to us.”

  Finley let out a heavy sigh. “His name is Parnell.”

  Furious, Hunter silently shook his head while berating himself for letting his distractions get the best of him and not figuring it out sooner.

  “Matthew Parnell?” Judd asked. “The mob boss in Boston? That Matthew Parnell?”

  Amused, Finley replied, “You know him, huh?”

  The animosity in Finley’s eyes that he was directing at Hunter as he turned his head changed to sudden and uncontrollable fear as a figure casually passed in front of the doors. His face had gone slack and the pit of his stomach dropped to his feet. The three other men in the room exchanged confused looks at this sudden onset of fear and change of behavior. Finley was looking past Hunter through the glass doors of the room, his eyes focused and unwavering. He went from twitching excitedly to near wetting himself in a matter of seconds, and his hands were trembling, like he was getting ready to jump out of a plane at ten thousand feet with no guarantee that the chute would open. The others watched in cautious curiosity as Finley slowly stood and apprehensively walked to the door, cocking his head to get a better view. He muttered a few words under his breath and definitively spun around.

  Finley adamantly shook his head and his voice shook with fear. “Nope. I’m done. You assholes set me up.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Hunter asked. “Sit down.”

  “You know what he does when he wants to deal with someone who’s a problem? He sends someone to get you. You set me up, called him, and told him that I was coming to talk to you guys.”

  “He sends someone?” Judd asked, confused. “What the hell—”

  “He sends someone! Someone to take you back to him! And if you can’t get back to him, then they just kill you where you stand! And if you think I’m going to say another word while she’s out there, you can think again! Ain’t fucking happening!”

  Doug led Finley back to his seat as Hunter peeked out the door. Surprised by what he saw, and further confused by Finley’s reaction to it, Hunter lifted the blinds on the doors, giving everyone in the room a clear view of the lobby where a woman sat patiently. Hunter was the only one who knew it was Chloe, sitting casually and minding her own business, flipping through the pages of a magazine, completely oblivious to the panic she had stirred up in Finley. Although the timing was bad, for a second or two he was happy to see her, and then suddenly wondered what she was doing there and why Finley was so afraid of her. Doug and Judd looked to Hunter for some kind of explanation, but he didn’t have one.

  Hunter turned back to Finley. “Who is she?”

  Finley gave Hunter an exasperated look. “Are you kidding me? If he sent her, then it’s over! I’m a dead man!” He threw his hands in front of him, motioning at Chloe. “Who is she, he asks. She’s his goddamn daughter!”

  ***

  In the observation room, Dennis sat up in his chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs and his hands dangling between his knees, paying close attention. Even though Dennis couldn’t see her, he knew who Finley was talking about. Dennis’s jaw gaped open and he said out loud, “I’ll be goddamned.”

  Sitting behind Dennis in the last free chair, the assistant director of the FBI was quietly observing the interview with concentrated interest. He and Dennis were of the same age, but unlike Dennis, this man wasn’t planning on retiring any time soon. The only way he would ever retire from the Bureau was by death. His name was Jack Lawrence and he had a phone call to make.

  Chapter 36

  To say Chloe was confused was an understatement. One minute she was sitting in the lobby, quietly reading a magazine, and the next Hunter had a fierce grip on her arm, yanking her into his office. Judd and Dennis followed, leaving a terrified Finley and a confused lawyer alone with an agent standing outside the door.

  Not even a second after Judd closed the office door behind him, Hunter let go of Chloe’s arm and stood behind his desk, glaring at her, overwhelming rage in his eyes. Chloe looked at the other men, waiting for someone to explain.

  Chloe rubbed her arm where Hunter had grabbed her. “Could somebody please explain?”

  “You’re his daughter?” Hunter shouted the question.

  Chloe naturally assumed that he would put two and two together when he eventually came across a photograph from one of the many public events she attended with her father. She squared her shoulders and steeled herself, defiance in her eyes. “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t think that might have been important to tell me the other night?”

  “No, not at the time,” she replied. “And if you don’t stop shouting at me, you won’t hear any more from me. You’ll be civil or I’ll be silent.”

  Hunter picked up the first thing closest to him and threw it. Dennis and Judd watched in amazement as Amy’s coffee cup hit the wall and shattered.

  Dennis stepped forward and stood between Hunter and Chloe. “Okay, let’s all calm down.” He gave a pointed look to Hunter, silently telling him to get his shit together. Hunter turned toward the wall and started at the broken mug on the floor while Dennis made his introductions and took a seat on the corner of Hunter’s desk.

  Hunter turned on Chloe. “You told me that you paid someone to give you a new life. What’s your name? We already know your last name is Parnell.”

  Chloe’s defenses were strengthening by the second and her eyes began to harden against Hunter, glaring back at him, daring him to challenge her. Hunter cocked his head and raised his eyebrows as if to say, Well?

  “Renee,” she said.

  Before Hunter could speak again, Dennis once again stepped in. “Okay, let’s just try—”

  “Is there anything else you didn’t think was important enough to tell me?” Hunter asked Chloe.

  “Yes,” she replied, unrepentant.

  Hunter slammed his hand on his desk. “Goddammit! You lied to me!”

  “I didn’t lie! And don’t you dare say the phrase ‘lying by omission’ to me.”

  “All right, that’s enough!” Dennis gave Hunter a hard enough stare that Hunter let out a disgusted breath and threw himself down in his chair. Dennis then gestured to the chair in front of Hunter’s desk and lightly placed a hand on Chloe’s back. She got the hint and sat down.

  Judd brought in another chair for him and placed it on the side of Hunter’s desk so they could all face each other. When everyone was as comfortable as they were going to get, Dennis addressed Chloe.

  “Okay. Let’s start with why you’re here.”

  The only person in the room Chloe had any hostility toward was Hunter, so she looked directly at Dennis and spoke to him with respect, like she had been raised to do. “I’m sure he told you what happened over the weekend. I came down here—risked my life to come down here—to talk about my friend who has agreed to testify, but only if she and her family would be guaranteed witness protection. I thought talking to him in person about this would be the best course of action.” She looked at Hunter with slanted eyes. “Apparently, I was wrong.”

  Hunter was about to say something, but Dennis stopped him with a firm stare, and then turned back to Chloe. “What do you mean you risked your life to come down here?”

  Chloe made no attempt to answer Dennis’s question. Judd cleared his throat and Chloe gave him her attention. “The reason for all this…um, the tattoo. We know that the girls who work for your…for Parnell…they all had this tattoo on their back.” Chloe nodded in confirmation. “Do the men who work for him have a tattoo as well?”

  “They do.”

  “Is it on the inside of their forearm? A letter of the alphabet in Old English scrip
t?”

  “Yes.” She explained the significance of the tattoo, and the letter associated with it, was meant as identification to anyone who knew about Parnell’s secret life. “All of the tattoos, except for mine, have the letter P.”

  Hunter snapped his head up at her, his eyes calling her a liar. “I saw your tattoo. You have the same letter.”

  Chloe turned to Hunter, the hard, angry look back in her eyes. “Actually, mine is a D. I guess you didn’t look close enough.”

  Judd jumped in before Hunter could retort. “And the D stands for?”

  “Daughter,” Dennis said, understanding coming over him. Chloe nodded. “I’m guessing your tattoo carried a lot more weight and significance than the others.”

  Hunter began to pace in slow circles. His fists were clenched in tight fists at his sides and his face was rapidly turning from red to purple. It was killing Chloe that with every word she spoke she was hurting Hunter, but if she was going to suggest helping each other in their quest to capture Matthew, she had to fill in as many blanks as she could.

  Chloe looked at Dennis and continued. “My father’s captain, Evan Crescent, thoroughly enjoys inflicting pain and carrying out the orders that he is given, and he does it without question and with complete loyalty.”

  Judd let out a long whistle. “Well, that explains Finley’s freak out.”

  “I was watching from the other room and it seems to me he was more than a little terrified of her,” Dennis said to Judd, tilting his head in Chloe’s direction.

  At Chloe’s look of confusion, Judd said, “Mack Finley. He shot and killed two state troopers.”

  Understanding instantly crossed Chloe’s face and she looked at Hunter. His face was no longer red with anger, but still he was frustrated. He nodded to confirm that this was the man he had told her about, the one who wanted to turn state’s evidence against his boss, who just happened to be her father.