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“Thank you,” she said with utmost sincerity. “I should have said this before, but thank you for sending him to me. He was an amazing man, and I loved him completely.”
Fury flashed in Dempsey’s eyes, but he quickly tamped it down. “Watch your step, Finley O’Sullivan. For me the game is lost, but it is far from over. You’ll see.”
Finley stood. “Thanks for seeing me. Maybe you won’t have to spend the rest of your life in prison either. Maybe someone will do you the same favor they did your son.”
Finley turned her back and walked out. His ranting followed her out of the room. A good attorney could probably use her as a future potential threat to his client and get him into anupgradedprison situation. Let him. Proving it would be the problem. Besides, Finley actually did not want the old bastard to die. She wanted him to live every long-ass day he had left behind bars.
Houser walked out of the bastard’s palace beside her as Wellsby hurried back to his client.
“Do I want to know what you two talked about?”
At the bottom of the steps, she paused. “I told him if he was lucky, he would die in prison the same way his son did.”
Houser flinched. “Jesus, Finley.”
“But what I didn’t tell him is that I hope that doesn’t happen because I want him to live as long as possible in his prison cell. The longer the better.”
Houser shook his head. “Did he admit knowing anything about who might be tailing you?”
“He says not, but he did make one comment that tells me he knows something.” She put her arm through Houser’s and ushered him toward their parked cars. “He said, ‘For me’—meaning him—‘the game is lost, but it is far from over.’ He mentioned that Derrick had made more enemies than just him.”
Houser scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
She had expected Dempsey would try and find a way to make her second-guess herself. And he was right—Derrick had been an undercover agent, so of course he had made other enemies. But this thing—the guy following her—had Dempsey’s MO written all over it.
“He said I’d see.” She didn’t really like it either. What was new?
“I should put a detail on you.”
Finley shook her head. “You’ll just scare him off. It’s better if I can see him coming.”
It was when you didn’t see them coming that ruined your day.
“Get me a license plate number. Anything,” Houser urged. His gaze searched hers. “I’m worried, Finley. We know the stuff that went down last time.”
He was almost killed. Matt was almost killed.
She was almost killed.
“I’ll be careful. I promise.”
He nodded. “I’m counting on it.” Ever the gentleman, he reached for her car door. He paused. “Look, I feel bad for telling you about your father’s visit to Johnson’s office.”
“I would have been more upset if you hadn’t told me,” she admitted.
“So did you get a chance to talk to him?”
Regrettably she could only shake her head. “I’m still trying to catch up with him. It’s looking more and more like he’s avoiding me.”
“Let me know what you find out. I’d like to clear this up, the sooner the better.”
So would she. For now, she was glad he didn’t push the issue or insist on speaking to her father himself. This was something she needed to do. As Houser said, the sooner the better.
Finley left the Dempsey palace and drove straight to one of her resources, Pete Owens, over on Penn Warren Drive in Brentwood. She had him check her Subaru for bugs, and even her phone, although itnever left her possession. Dempsey’s thugs had used tracking and listening devices to keep up with her movements before. She wasn’t taking any chances this time.
When Pete was satisfied she was clean, she drove to her parents’ house.
O’Sullivan Residence
