Page 37 of Justice

Drake cringed at the term, realizing too late he would be exempt from the twice a year event. Where clothing was changed from cool to warm and vice-versa. Handbags, shoes, and undergarments were donated to charity to make room for the latest seasons fashions, creating havoc in his home and a big dip in his bottom line.

Joanna’s tale of the new colors she selected fades off as the ringing of a cellphone from the depths of her purse grabs her attention. Drake watches cautiously as she pulls out the diamond-covered phone, a smile as big as her credit card limit on her face.

“Drake, I hate to do this, but I need to take this. I’ll call you another time and we can do lunch.”

Joanna doesn’t wait for his reply as she tosses the purse over her wrist, answering the call in the sweetest voice he has ever heard. Confused, he peers into the bag, the oil-stained bottom looking back at him. With his mind still on high alert, he carefully places the containers back in the bag.

“Mr. Hannigan, you said to let you know when Stetson was five minutes out.”

“Thank you, Laura. Can you please have someone dispose of this?” Motioning to the abandoned lunch covering his desk.

“Shall I place it in the fridge? Heat it up for you later.”

“No thanks, Laura. I’ll pass.”

“I see. Perhaps I can leave it out back for the old homeless guy who sleeps under the dumpster.”

“No, I’d rather not take a chance on poisoning the poor guy. Being homeless isn’t a crime, and he shouldn’t be punished with food that may or may not contain poison.”

“I take it your meeting didn’t go well, then?”

“No, it went fine. Actually, Ms. Cavanaugh has a new man in her life.”

“A real one?” From the way, Laura’s eyes grew wide and her hand clamped over her mouth, she hadn’t expected to give life to her thoughts.

“I didn’t get a name, so your guess is as good as mine. I’ll let you know when I do, deal?”

Laura was a good kid, a fantastic secretary and girl-next-door pretty. She remained at Drake's beck and call all hours of the day and night, and he rewarded her handsomely with an incredible salary and an apartment in the same building as his condo.

“Deal, Mr. Hannigan. I’ll ring you when Stetson arrives.” Stetson had been Drake’s attorney from the moment he took over the Family. He’d called him for possible legal counsel with the woman he felt sure could shine some light on what happened during the incident with his late wife.

“Thank you, Laura.”

Drake sat back in his chair, the ibuprofen slowly taking the edge off the pain in his head. Closing his eyes, he let himself fall back in the chair; he could afford to enjoy a few minutes of peace after the hell of the past few weeks. Allowing his mind to drift, the events of a few nights ago came to mind.

He’d been on the south side of Boston, meeting with a potential buyer for a product he hoped to start making soon. On his way back, he stopped at a red light and caught the marquee for a new nightclub. He flipped around, left his car with the valet and went inside to check it out.

Twenty minutes later, he was in a private room with two girls, both on their knees giving him the best blowjob he’d had in years. Drake recalled how he watched his dick disappear down the throat of one of the girls, the bitch blessed with no gag reflex, while the second took his balls into her mouth, bathing them with her tongue while she waited her turn at his cock. His monstrous orgasm was courtesy of the owner, who had been looking for new investors. Drake now owned fifty-two percent of the business.

“Mr. Hannigan?” Laura’s gentle voice startled him, “I’m sorry, but Stetson is here, and he brought the young woman you requested.”

Drake rises from his seat, adjusts his tie and buttons his jacket. “Thank you, Laura. You can send them in.”

Laura nodded her head and instructed the pair to come in and have a seat. Stetson appeared first, Drake’s office more like a second home than a meeting spot. Behind him appeared a tall, dark-haired woman, mid-thirties if her file was accurate, with a crooked nose and a scar on her lower lip.

“Stetson, how was the flight?” Reaching out, he shook the hand of his trusted attorney, creating a friendly atmosphere for the guest of honor behind him.

“Incredible as always, thank you for loaning your jet for the trip.”

“Of course, only the best for our guests, correct?”

Turning to the woman beside him, her eyes wide at the extravagance of his office. He had his late wife to thank for choosing the building and hiring the decorator. Her need to, set the tone, as she labeled it. Treating what he did for a living more as a corporate move than calling it what it really was, criminal.

“And this young lady must be Molly Smith.”

Drake pulled out his most sincere smile and charming voice for her. If what his research showed him was true, this lady stood to make him an even richer man.

“Don’t know ‘bout the lady part, but yes, sir. My name is Molly Smith. Mind telling me what all this is about?”

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