Down and Dirty (Scions of Sin Book 3)

by Taylor Holloway

  “Ok little lady, here’s that margarita you wanted,” the waiter said, interrupting my inner turmoil to return with more strawberry booze, “bottoms up.”

  “Thank you,” I replied politely, trying to get a better look at the waiter this time. I could feel Nicholas paying intense attention as well. When the waiter walked off again, cutting a swift moving figure through the restaurant, Nicholas looked at me with wide eyes.

  “That’s Oliver,” he whispered. My lips parted in disbelief. Then I laughed.

  “Oh, come on!” I replied with an eye roll, “I’m not that gullible.”

  “I’m serious! It’s him. Carl is Oliver,” Nicholas said, watching the eccentrically dressed man disappear fully into the back of the restaurant.

  Nicholas was just messing with me. There was no way. The waiter was beyond my sight line at the moment, so I couldn’t confirm, but there was no way that Carl was Oliver. As far as I knew, Oliver lived in three-piece suits. He got a haircut every first Monday of the month. He carried a fucking pocket watch. He was a restrained grandfatherly gentleman who looked like skinny Santa and wouldn’t be caught dead in camouflage pants or a cowboy hat.

  “What do you want to bet that it’s Oliver,” Nicholas pushed, “five bucks?”

  I rolled my eyes at him again. This was silly.

  “Ok fine,” I said lightly, “you want to lose five bucks? I’m good with that.”

  I wasn’t used to gambling, but far be it from me not to accept free money.

  When the waiter returned a few minutes later, I was ready to collect.

  “Here’s y’all’s ticket. Take your time,” Carl said in an accent that didn’t sound quite like it belonged to an actual southerner. I was from Oklahoma, so I knew from southern accents. I tried to get a proper look at the man’s face, but most of it was concealed by glasses, mustache, or his stringy black hair.

  As he was dropping the leather-bound check booklet off, Carl pushed his rose-colored glasses up the bridge of his nose and in a flash, I realized the truth. I’d seen Oliver make that exact motion at least a thousand times. He had a distinctive way of pushing them up. He scrunched his nose up a bit and shoved them into his forehead as if they had personally offended him by slipping out of place. Nicholas was right. Carl was Oliver.

  Oh. My. God.

  Oliver got a serious makeover.

  I felt my mouth drop open in disbelief. Beside me, Nicholas saw me figure it out and abruptly covered his mouth to keep from laughing.

  “Thank you, Carl,” he managed from behind his hand.

  ‘Carl’ nodded and swiftly walked away. Nicholas and I watched him go in total silence.

  “How? Why?” I mumbled at Nicholas when I was able to speak again.

  “I don’t know,” Nicholas said, “I really, really don’t know.”

  I dug into my purse for a five-dollar bill.

  “Well, here ya go,” I told him, handing over the money, “you definitely earned it.”

  “Do you think he’s going to come and actually talk to us?” Nicholas asked, accepting the money with a wide grin.

  “I don’t think so,” I replied, “he must have just wanted us to know he was ok.”

  “You’re probably right,” he said, “that was bizarre though. I wish I’d gotten a picture of him.”

  I giggled, and Nicholas pulled the check toward him and opened it only to freeze. My giggle cut off at his expression, and my breath froze in my lungs. Adrenaline shot through my system in an instant.

  “What is it?” I hissed urgently, “did he leave us a note?”

  Nicholas shook his head. The wait for his answer felt like it took forever. I was on the verge of jerking it towards me when he finally replied.

  “No, it’s not a note,” he whispered back, “I think it’s everything.”

  He pulled a small thumb drive from within the little standard black leather booklet. It was labelled ‘Winterspring Records’ in red sharpie. The handwriting was Theresa’s. I recognized her distinctive all-caps handwriting. Nicholas and I looked at it, and one another, in shock. I felt a smile starting to tug at the edges of my mouth.

  We had it.

  38

  Nicholas

  Director Salvador was the single largest human being I’d ever met. I’m well over six feet tall, and the hulking FBI agent made me feel like a stubby little hobbit. I wondered how he’d ever found clothes that fit him. They must have been custom. Thankfully, he was as smart and polite as he was tall and scary-looking. Like Harley, Salvador’s bark seemed to be worse than his bite.

  “Alright,” he was saying, “let me repeat all of that back to you both, and you tell me whether I have the whole story right, ok?”

  Jenna and I nodded.

  “Almost two weeks ago, Jenna, you went to find Nicholas and give him his grandfather’s will. You found him in Alaska and not in Nepal like you’d been told. Nicholas, you realized that you could no longer live with the threat of Skylark and the knowledge of the chemical weapons that Durant Industries was producing so you returned to Philadelphia shortly after Jenna did. How am I doing so far.”

  We nodded again at him. This was the simple part of the story.

  “Great. Then, when you returned to Philadelphia, Nicholas you contacted Jenna and Oliver. You told them the truth and they both agreed to help you smuggle out the records and blow the whistle. It was only after Jenna was fired and Oliver realized he was being spied on that Theresa was involved. Still correct?”

  “Yes,” Jenna said, “but remember that Richard was trying to protect me at first. He tried to keep me from looking into everything. It wasn’t until I disobeyed him that he fired me. He warned me to run.”

  Salvador nodded. He didn’t seem to care much that Richard had tried to protect Jenna or me at any point.

  “Nicholas, you went to speak to your father after Jenna was fired, is that correct?” He asked me.

  “Yes, I did,” I confirmed, “but it was pointless. He didn’t care what I had to say. He advised me to run, and to tell Jenna and Oliver to do the same.”

  “But none of you did,” Salvador said approvingly, “you enlisted the help of Theresa instead. According to what Oliver tells me, she obtained the records and gave them to him right before she was killed. And then Oliver gave them to you two.”

  “While he was incognito at a restaurant last night,” I felt compelled to add.

  Salvador raised an eyebrow and penciled that in while Jenna giggled.

  “Ok, so I have everything about your investigation correct, then?” Salvador asked, and we agreed.

  “We examined everything you provided from the flash drive,” Salvador said. “It’s more than enough to obtain an indictment against Durant Industries. There’s nothing on Skylark, but once we get into the building, the dominoes will inevitably start to fall. There’s always a paper trail.”

  We’d been talking to Salvador at the FBI headquarters for the past four hours. It had taken us the better part of two days to get to him. Before we got to Salvador we’d talked to a ton of lesser FBI folks, none of whom had more than a few IQ points to rub together. It had been grueling.

  But Salvador got it. He also didn’t mind that Harley was with us in the interview room, which immediately made me like and trust him. The way people responded to Harley had become my personality barometer.

  “What happens now?” Jenna asked, “We’re still afraid that someone is watching us. And Oliver is still hiding. The police think he’s responsible for Theresa’s murder.”

  Salvador sighed.

  “This is going to take some time to work out. I believe you, and I’m going to put you both in an FBI safe house immediately with twenty-four-hour surveillance and protection. Oliver is another story. I’ll take over the murder investigation as soon as we get the warrant for Durant Industries. Then we’ll be able to protect him as well if the evidence exonerates him. Do you have a way to contact him? Wait. Never mind. I actually don’t want to know.”
/>   My lawyer, Albert, had sat up abruptly while Salvador was talking, but then he settled back into his chair. I was infinitely glad that I’d begun retaining him as soon as I got back. He was proving to be extremely useful in preventing me from somehow incriminating myself. As much as I liked Salvador, I knew he had his priorities and they weren’t necessarily one hundred percent aligned with mine.

  “Am I allowed to tell my mom what’s really going on now?” Jenna asked Salvador.

  “Can you hold off just a few more days?” he asked, “I can’t make you do anything, but I really think it would be better if you wait until we can arrest all the bad guys. One person has already died. It would be safer for your mom if you didn’t contact her for a few days. She still thinks you’re on a cruise, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes,” Jenna admitted, “I just don’t like lying to her.”

  Salvador looked at her with obvious sympathy.

  I reached out under the table and grabbed her hand. Jenna’s obvious innocence and her generally patient nature was the reason we’d gotten this far in the investigation into Durant, and with the FBI over the past hours. Several of the dumb agents we’d spoken to initially had looked at me like I was straight-up crazy when I started talking about chemical weapons, but Jenna’s calm, guilelessness seemed to cut straight through the confusion, disbelief, and suspicion. The presence of Albert also spooked a number of the agents. But I wasn’t dumb enough to talk to the FBI without a lawyer.

  “Alright, a few more questions,” Salvador said, “first, Nicholas when your father told you to flee because Skylark was looking to kill you, why did you go to Alaska?”

  I shrugged.

  “Honestly?” I said, and my lawyer kicked my foot under the table. Obviously, I was supposed to be honest. Lying to the FBI—as I’d been repeatedly reminded—was a crime. “I thought it was the farthest way I could get from them without having to cross the border. I didn’t want to use my passport.”

  “You could have gone to Puerto Rico,” Salvador suggested, “it would have been warmer.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was joking or not until he smiled.

  “Jenna, when you discovered the accounting records, you hadn’t seen any of the chemical weapons testing data right?” Salvador then asked.

  “No,” Jenna replied, “I didn’t see any of that until last night.”

  Poor Jenna had cried when she saw the pictures.

  “You believed Nicholas though,” he pushed, “even though there was no evidence?”

  Jenna blinked.

  “Yes, I believed him,” she replied as if it was an obvious and easy thing to do. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Salvador shook his head in disbelief. Albert was smiling a bemused smile. I wasn’t sure what to make of any of it other than to be grateful to Jenna.

  A thought intruded into my brain at that moment and I looked at Harley.

  “I apologize,” I told the room, “I need to take Harley out to go to the bathroom. I don’t want her to go in here, obviously.”

  Salvador looked at his watch.

  “You have been in here a long time. If you go out the door at the end of the hallway, there’s a spot she can use between the two buildings.”

  I took Harley and followed Salvador’s directions through the FBI complex. I had a little visitor badge pinned to my chest, but I attracted a few curious looks from the FBI agents. Or rather, Harley attracted a few curious looks from the FBI agents. A lot of them wanted to pet her. Apparently, the FBI are a bunch of dog lovers.

  By the time I made it outside, I was already feeling a bit guilty for what I was about to do. Harley probably did have to pee (she pretty much seemed to have an infinite supply of pee inside her), but that wasn’t why I asked to step outside. My intentions weren’t nearly so pure.

  As Harley hunted around for a proper place to make her dominance over the space between two FBI buildings, I pulled out my burner phone and called my father. I half expected him not to answer, but he did.

  “Hello? Who is this?” My father’s irritable voice came through the line. “How many times do I have to ask to be removed from your godforsaken lists?”

  “I’m not a telemarketer,” I replied simply.

  My father’s shocked intake of breath made a hissing noise on the line. He abruptly hung up and then called back from a different number (presumably his own burner phone, if I had to guess).

  “You can’t call me,” he snapped furiously, “You’re lucky I was at home where Skylark probably can’t listen in, but my main phone number still probably isn’t secure.”

  “Yeah sorry,” I told him, “I’d hate to cause you any issues with your buddies at Skylark. That would be a real bummer.”

  “This isn’t for my benefit!” He exclaimed. I heard something hard slam against something harder, maybe a hand on a wall or a desk in frustration. “I’m trying to prevent you from being tracked down and killed. Why is this so hard for you to understand?”

  “Hmm, well thanks so much,” I replied, “let me repay the courtesy.”

  “Excuse me?” He asked snidely. I could almost see him rolling his eyes at me.

  “Listen to me,” I snapped, “because I’m only going to say this once.” Harley looked up from where she was anointing herself with the aroma of FBI building, and then when she realized I wasn’t speaking to her, continued to rub herself happily against the wall. “Before Theresa was murdered by your buddy Ryan, she gave all of the chemical weapon files to Oliver. Oliver gave them to me. I just finished giving them to the FBI. I’m taking the time out of my FBI interview to give you a call and give you the same opportunity that you gave me five years ago. Run. You still have time. If you run right now, the FBI might not find you. God knows you’ve got enough money to get somewhere they can’t extradite you. So, go.”

  When I stopped speaking, I couldn’t hear a thing through the phone. I waited for a reply, but none was forthcoming.

  “Did you hear me?” I ventured after a few moments.

  “Yes,” he finally replied. He sounded resigned. “I heard you. How long do you think I’ve got?”

  “I have no idea,” I told him. “A few hours maybe.”

  “Alright,” he said. “I guess I… I need to go.”

  He hung up on me. Not the greatest final goodbye between father and son, but I supposed I would just have to be satisfied with it. Wherever he was going to run to, I found myself hoping he was successful. He might not be a very good person, but he was still my dad.

  39

  Jenna

  “I really wish you hadn’t done that,” I told Nicholas angrily. I threw myself down on the tacky floral-patterned couch of the safe house apartment in frustration. I could feel my blood pressure rising. “He doesn’t deserve to go sit on a beach somewhere for the rest of his life. He should be locked up. You should have at least talked to me about it first. I thought you were only going to warn your cousin Nathan.”

  Nicholas stared silently down at the ground in front of him from his seat at the little dining room table. We’d been in the safe house for almost six hours now, and Nicholas had finally decided to share the fact that he tipped off his father. It was now much too late for me to do anything to stop Richard from getting away.

  “He’s my dad,” Nicholas replied sadly. He ran his hands through his hair in apparent frustration. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But he gave me the same warning five years ago. I owed him.”

  “No, no you didn’t,” I insisted. I was trying to keep my voice totally level and calm, but it was difficult. This was the first fight that Nicholas and I had ever had, and even though I was worked up, I didn’t want it to get out of control. “He gave you warning to escape dangerous criminals that wanted to murder you. You gave him warning to escape justice.”

  Nicholas looked up from the ground and met my eyes with his own tired, green-blue ones. He spread his palms wide.

  “He’s my dad,” Nicholas repeated in a quiet, urgent voice. He seemed to
think that was somehow much more significant than it was.

  I sighed in irritation.

  “I know he’s your dad,” I told him as gently as I could, “Theresa was someone’s daughter. Oliver is several people’s grandfather.”

  If Richard flew the coup, he would never be held accountable to the families of the people he hurt. We didn’t know anything about the possible victims of the weapons themselves, either. Richard could be a real war criminal for all we knew. If those weapons fell into the wrong hands, he could be responsible for the excruciating, criminal deaths of thousands. At the moment I didn’t give a shit if he was Nicholas’ dad.

  “I know. And I know you’re angry with me,” Nicholas stated firmly. He was beginning to get frustrated back at me. “I get why you’re angry, too. But I felt like I had to tell him. What would you do if you found out your mom was behind something crazy like this? Would you really turn her in?”

  “My mom would never do anything like this,” I replied with a frown. The idea was laughable. My mom didn’t even exceed the speed limit when driving. She was not cut out for a life of crime. “But I guess you have a point.”

  Not only would I warn my mom that the police were coming, I’d intentionally mislead them away from her. I’d probably take the fall for her. There was no chance that I’d ever let my mom go to jail if I could do anything to prevent it. I saw Orange is the New Black. My mom wouldn’t do very well in prison.

  “He might not get away,” Nicholas told me, and I rolled my eyes at his weak argument. “You never know.”

  “Oh, he’ll get away,” I asserted confidently, “That much money can buy a person a whole lot of anonymity. He’ll spend his exile in comfort. He’s probably already on his private jet over the Atlantic.”

  “I didn’t mean from the FBI,” Nicholas said worriedly. “He’ll definitely get away from the FBI. They don’t have the resources to touch him if he doesn’t want to be touched. I meant Skylark. Skylark isn’t going to like that this secret is going to get out. They might feel the need to hunt my dad down and put a permanent end to the possibility of him talking.”