Dynasty

by Jen Davis et al.

  He took a sip and she watched with anticipation. “Good as always.”

  Satisfied with his happiness, she leaned on the counter for their brief morning chat, leaving her husband to tend to the customers. After five minutes of filling Hunter in on their weekend activities, she began her predictable matchmaking routine, starting with, “And that nice young lady came in over the weekend.”

  Hunter wasn’t interested in meeting anybody or getting into any kind of relationship. He had gone on a few dates since Amy’s death, but never had a second date with any of them. He didn’t want to hurt Mrs. Davidson’s feelings, so he spoke in a slightly uninterested tone, hoping she would take the hint. “Oh yeah?”

  She tried so hard to pick out the perfect woman for Hunter and apparently believed she had finally found the one. The “nice young lady” had been a regular customer over the past few months, but only on the weekends. He had been repeatedly told she was attractive, obviously worked hard, and, most importantly, was single. Mrs. Davidson gave him that motherly look that said it was time he settled down again.

  “She sat in that corner for a few hours working on her computer.” She raised her eyebrows at him to question whether or not he had been listening to her over the weeks of telling him about this nice young lady.

  He smiled and tried to find the conversation amusing. “Her name is Tricia. She’s a realtor.”

  “One day, your paths will cross.”

  “Mrs. Davidson, I would think you, of all people, would agree that if we were meant to cross paths, it would have happened by now.”

  Mrs. Davidson let out a humph and crossed her arms. From behind the espresso machine, Mr. Davidson attempted to save Hunter from his wife by giving his playful, “Woman! Let the man get to work. You can worry about his love life later.”

  Mrs. Davidson shushed her husband with the wave of her hand. Mr. Davidson shrugged his shoulders at Hunter, apologizing for the failed rescue attempt.

  “Ignore him,” Mrs. Davidson remarked.

  Hunter chuckled but took this opportunity to step out. Raising his cup to her, he said, “It’s getting busy in here and I really do need to get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Mrs. Davidson came out from behind the counter and gave Hunter a quick hug. “This conversation isn’t over, you know.”

  Pulling back from the hug and smiling down at her, his only reply was the obvious. “I know.”

  Mrs. Davidson patted him on the shoulder and began to straighten his tie. It was a habit she’d picked up since he started coming in every morning, and Hunter found that he didn’t mind. To him, it was a gesture that she cared about him, and it felt good to have someone who cared, even if it meant putting up with mothering and matchmaking.

  Satisfied he was presentable, Mrs. Davidson gave Hunter a quick kiss on the cheek and smiled. “You got yourself a new suit. Looks good on you. Now, you go and catch bad guys. We’ll talk about Tricia later.”

  Chapter 19

  Chloe sat in the reception area of Keller and Keller law firm, waiting to meet with the managing partner. All those years ago, and before her first client had called as foretold by Nicholas, she did all the research she could on small business consulting—she had to know what she was talking about. Of course, it didn’t hurt that she was raised to be a ruthless, cold-hearted businesswoman. She knew how to get what she wanted, how to twist conditions to her favor, how to shake down the corruptible, and how to make the results her clients wanted happen. She was pleasant when she needed to be, and vicious when she wanted to be. It was safe to say that she loved her career.

  She left New Hampshire three days ago after helping a medical office climb out of possible bankruptcy and made her way to Lafayette, Louisiana. She liked going to Louisiana, but each time she did she was sure to avoid New Orleans like the plague. Last she heard, Jack Lawrence was still underboss in New Orleans and he had a steadfast loyalty to David that would never be compromised. Chloe had always liked Jack—he never gave her any reason not to—but the fact that David favored her father, and Jack favored David, gave her enough reason to keep a wide berth around New Orleans. Lafayette was at least two hours away, which fell just within her comfort zone.

  Her first impression was that the Keller brothers should have spent more money on the aesthetics of the office; white tile floors, white walls, and a few pieces of modest yet dark and dreary furniture. The multi-colored earth tones of the heavily worn area rug underneath the sofa and matching chairs was the only place for someone to walk without making noise in the lobby. The decorator was obviously going for a distinguished and smart impression on anyone who walked in, but to Chloe it felt like a morgue—very sterile and very boring. The receptionist had a large, semi-enclosed workstation facing the waiting room. There was a door to one side of the lobby that led to, Chloe assumed, the work area. She took comfort in the fact that with the tile floors, and nothing to absorb the noise, nobody would be able to sneak up behind her.

  She and the receptionist eyeballed each other a few times, making their own mental first impression judgments. Chloe hadn’t been to one business where someone, or various someones, didn’t go to the receptionist for the daily news. It didn’t matter what the issue was, the gossiping receptionist was one of the main problems her clients complained about. In the world Chloe grew up in, the receptionist would have been referred to as a rat. A squealer. The one who loved to talk and then would deny everything if confronted. In the end, however, rats always ended up in a trap with their necks snapped.

  Chloe studied the young woman leaning against the desk, focusing intently on the device in her hand, either playing a game or texting. She was maybe nineteen and definitely not dressed the part of what a client might expect from a law firm. Although Chloe couldn’t see the receptionist from the waist down, the top half showed that this young woman had a nice figure and she was intent on showing it off in an almost transparent tight shirt, foolishly assuming that adding a colorful scarf to her ensemble would hide this fact. When the phone rang, she was irritated at having to set her own phone aside, so she didn’t. She simply answered the phone with the look of someone who was interrupted from something more important, still concentrating on her own device.

  “Keller and Keller. How may I direct your call? Sure. Hang on, please.”

  Chloe mentally winced at the drone and uncaring of her voice. Well, at least she said please.

  The young girl pushed a few buttons, dropped the receiver into its cradle as if it were acid burning her hands, and turned her attention back to her phone. Chloe slit her eyes at her, considering how best to deal with this particular problem, and knew two things that would be a certainty: within a week this girl would no longer be a receptionist, and within a half hour of meeting with Walter Keller, Chloe would become the latest gossip at the reception desk.

  Walter Keller, a middle-aged, portly man with salt and pepper hair, bags under his eyes, and a jovial disposition entered the reception area from the side door. The young receptionist put her phone away and looked like she cared.

  “Ms. Riggs?” He held out his hand to shake hers.

  “Mr. Keller.” She accepted his hand as she stood. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Please,” he said, extending his arm in an invitation to accompany him to one of the staff doors, “follow me.”

  “Thank you.” Chloe picked up her purse and briefcase from the floor and didn’t miss the fact that curious eyeballs from the receptionist desk were watching as she did.

  Chloe followed Walter through the staff area where The Cubicle People lived. She picked up the distinct clicking of fingers on a keyboard, a few people on the telephone, and a group of three women standing around another cubicle whispering and talking about nothing work related.

  “I’ve asked my brother, Arthur, to join us,” Walter said as they entered a small conference room containing a small circular table with four chairs and what looked like a bedside table in the corner with a telephone on it.
This room was dull, desperately needing paint and maybe a picture or two hung on the walls. At the table sat Arthur Keller, who obviously, unlike his brother, had no desire to be in on this meeting.

  As Chloe took her seat, Arthur overtly scanned and studied her as if she was a conundrum in quantum physics that he would never be able to solve. He reminded Chloe of her father—a man who felt superior to anyone else and would get what he wanted no matter how many people he had to trample along the way. Thankfully, she had been ingrained with the skills to handle people like Arthur.

  Chloe extended a hand to Arthur. “Good morning, Mr. Keller. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Arthur ignored her greeting. She smiled at him in challenge as she reached into her briefcase and pulled a stack of papers out, sliding them across the table.

  Ignoring his brother’s rebuff, Walter was happily optimistic as he spoke. “You came highly recommended by Gordon Mackey. He said you turned his firm around in less than a month.”

  “That’s very kind of Mr. Mackey.” She had been contracted by Gordon at the beginning of the year and had flipped the firm into the black, with a surplus in his budget, in less than a month without losing any employees.

  “So, what is it exactly that you can do for us?” Walter asked.

  “That would depend on what you expect from me. I need to know the exact circumstance of what it is you need me to accomplish for you. I can help you increase your revenue and profits, and help you reach and find new clients.”

  Arthur looked at Chloe over the contract with a scowl on his face. “How can you improve staff issues when it’s a morale problem? You can encourage, but can’t force someone to be motivated.”

  “You can if they fear losing their job,” she said evenly.

  Walter smiled as he perused the contract. “Is there anything you don’t do? Financial management, organizational structure, budgeting, staff morale.”

  She gave him an appreciative smile then told a little white lie. “I didn’t go through all those years of business school for nothing, Mr. Keller.” Okay, a big white lie.

  Arthur flipped a page of the contract and looked at her with surprise. “This is your fee?”

  “For the first month. If, within the first month, you decide that my services are no longer needed, the full amount is due. If my services are required after the first month, then my wage continues, pro-rated, until I’m done. The longest I have been contracted is six weeks. However, the time I spend at one particular location is solely dependent on the work I am asked to perform.”

  Arthur set the contract on the table and looked at Chloe in challenge. “If there was one thing you could recommend to me, what would it be? Give me an example, if you will.”

  She decided to give him what he wanted with the first thing that came to mind. “Your receptionist is atrocious. She is unprofessional, rude, and irritable. She is getting paid to play on her phone and she knows it. You know it. My recommendation? My example to you? Kick the bitch to the curb.”

  Walter’s head snapped back in surprise and Arthur simply stared at her. He obviously wasn’t used to being spoken to by somebody, and more than likely a woman, so brazenly and unapologetically.

  Walter smiled and set the papers on the table in front of him. “I appreciate your straight forwardness, although I must tell you that Kimberly is not our receptionist. She is filling in while our receptionist is on vacation. Luckily, she’ll be back on Monday.”

  “So what is Kimberly’s position in the firm?” she asked Walter.

  “She’s a file clerk and backup receptionist.”

  “And her performance and attitude as a file clerk?” Chloe could tell by the look on his face that he honestly didn’t know. “Don’t you think you should find out?”

  “When it comes to personnel, we have an office manager to handle employee issues.” Arthur had a cold tone to his voice.

  Chloe cocked an eyebrow at Arthur. “Whether or not she is sitting at the front desk or filing, during work hours she is a reflection of this firm. Mr. Keller, I have been to medical offices, law firms, warehouses, food processing plants, and even an amusement park. It’s pretty much the same anywhere you go. People in your position always say, ‘I hired someone else to take care of it.’ Nine times out of ten, the problem is the people they hire to take care of it. You already know you have a problem. You called me.”

  She leaned back in her chair to let the brothers take a moment to comprehend what she was saying. They gave each other a look of approval, but Arthur still wasn’t won over.

  “Tell us more about yourself,” he cautiously demanded. “Your education and background, for instance.”

  “Those questions can be answered by reading my resume, Mr. Keller.”

  Arthur clearly wasn’t accustomed to being told to mind his own business, and before he could respond, Walter stepped in.

  “We have a plan to expand the firm and open another location. You can put together a business plan and help set up the new location?”

  Before she could answer, Arthur decided to try to rattle her once again. “Your fee—”

  She interrupted with a cold certainty in her voice. “Is non-negotiable.”

  Arthur scoffed. “Everything is negotiable, Ms. Riggs.”

  “Neither I nor my fee would be included in that statement,” she replied, and added for the sake of making it clear to him that the game he was attempting to play was over, “contrary to your belief, Mr. Keller.”

  “You are very determined to get what you want when you want it, aren’t you, Ms. Riggs?” Arthur asked.

  “Blame it on my nature, Mr. Keller.”

  “Your nature,” Arthur repeated skeptically. “Should I take that to mean you had a strict, yet strong upbringing?”

  “You could say that.”

  “And where did you grow up, Ms. Riggs?”

  Like it matters, she thought. “In the mob, Mr. Keller. We always get what we want.”

  Walter’s eyes widened in surprise and Arthur laughed at the ridiculousness of her response. Chloe simply gave a thin-lipped smile and waited.

  Arthur took a pen from his jacket and reluctantly signed Chloe’s contract. “When can you start?”

  “Monday morning. I will need my own workspace, copies of complete personnel files, employee manuals, and firm procedures. If I could get this information by Friday so I can review it over the weekend, that would be appreciated.”

  Walter rubbed his index finger along his chin, considering. “I’ll have everything you need ready by noon on Friday. Would you like to pick them up or have them delivered to you?”

  “I’ll be out and about taking care of a few personal errands. I can pick them up. Make sure Kimberly’s file is on top of the pile.”

  She indicated their meeting was over as she stood with satisfaction, again extending her hand to Arthur. Silently and still scrutinizing her, Arthur accepted this time.

  Walter stood and gave her the ladies first gesture. “I’ll show you out, then. We appreciate your time, Ms. Riggs.”

  She smiled in satisfaction. “Please, call me Chloe.”

  Chapter 20

  Hunter entered his office and realized one cup of coffee wasn’t going to be enough. He hung his coat on the rack behind his door, grabbed the slightly deformed coffee mug Amy had made him when she decided to try pottery, and walked toward the breakroom where fresh, warm coffee would be waiting for him. He smiled as he looked at the mug decorated with a red heart and a yellow arrow through it, the mug splashed with every color of the rainbow around it. Some of the paint had run before it went in the kiln and it came out looking like something a second grader would make and give to their mother for Christmas. He loved it.

  As he approached the breakroom, there stood two other agents blocking his path to the coffee pot. Dennis Hall had worked with the Bureau for almost fifteen years. When he took a bullet in the leg, he was given two options: retire or learn how to type. He took the desk job.


  The other was Judd Fowler, a twenty-something hothead three months out of the academy, full of ideas with no clue what unexpected surprises his career would throw at him. But just like Hunter, Judd would figure it out on his own.

  Dennis was leaning casually against the wall, sipping on his coffee, showing absolutely no interest in talking or listening to Judd, but pretending for the sake of killing time. Hunter had no idea, and didn’t care, what Judd was boasting about this time. Judd just wanted to fit in and be one of the guys, but there were many times when Hunter wanted to jab him in the face, just to deflate Judd’s puffed up head. Unfortunately, Hunter drew the proverbial short straw and was Judd’s supervisor and partner.

  “No coffee,” Dennis said, interrupting Judd’s story as Hunter reached for the coffee pot.

  Hunter stared at Dennis with incredulity. “What the hell do you mean, no coffee?”

  Dennis let out a short but steady laugh. “It’s out. Make it yourself, you lazy bastard. You got two hands.”

  Hunter glanced at the full cup in Dennis’s hand. “The mystery of who emptied the pot will baffle us for years.”

  Dennis smiled and took another sip, just to rub it in.

  “It’s times like these I bet you wish you had a secretary to do that kind of stuff for you, huh?” Judd asked in an effort to be included.

  Hunter smiled and put a friendly hand on Judd’s shoulder, casting a sideways glance at Dennis, who was also smiling. “You know, you’re right, Fowler. A secretary to make my coffee sure would be nice. Then again, that’s what we have you for.”

  Dennis quickly drained his cup and handed it to Judd. “Black, two sugars.”

  Hunter handed Judd his empty mug. “If you don’t know how I like my coffee, then you clearly haven’t been kissing my ass. Do not break my mug.”

  Hunter and Dennis cleared the breakroom, leaving Judd holding two empty coffee mugs and wondering what the hell just happened.

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