Page 38 of Justice

Drake’s eyes shifted to Albert Stetson, the man had certainly earned his fee this time, keeping the information he’s shared with Molly to a minimum. Her presence in his office gave him reason to believe she would be in his employ and making him money shortly.

“Of course, Ms. Smith. Please, have a seat. Would you care for something to eat or drink?”

Molly looked from Drake to Stetson, her eyes full of caution and intrigue. “I haven’t had a cold beer in years. Don’t care what brand, as long as I don’t need a translator to say the name.”

Drake smiled at her simplicity, a quality he felt most people lacked in his world.

“Stetson, you still have a taste for Budweiser™? Or has Mrs. Stetson curbed your appetite for any and all alcoholic beverages?”

Gwen Stetson was the quintessential rebel when it came to social propriety. Her father had been a hit man for a Family in New York back in the day, and her mother ran a bordello. Gwen was the result of their union and reason for the marriage. She assumed by marrying a well-to-do attorney she could shed her mafia history. She was wrong, so she embraced it.

“I’ll be sure and quote you when I tell her this story later. She still prefers roses, red ones. Harrison’s on Fifth has her information.”

Drake tossed his head back in a laugh. “Gwen is my spirit animal, she knows how much I adore her.” Turning to his smiling assistant, “Laura, can you send in a round of cold beer?”

Laura lowers her clasped hands to her hip level. “Of course. Ms. Smith, may I get you anything to eat: steak, hamburger, anything you wish?”

Molly looked at Laura through confused eyes, “No, ma’am. Just a beer is fine for now, thank you.”

Laura gives her one of her kind smiles, nodding her head before turning and exiting the room, leaving the door open as the apprehension rolling off Ms. Smith was suffocating.

“Ms. Smith—"

“Molly.” She interrupts, holding her hand up, palm out. “Please, I haven’t been out ten hours yet, it’s going to take a while to get used to having two names again.”

Drake motioned to the sofa against the far wall. “Fair enough. How about while we wait for Laura to return with our beers, we get the introductions out of the way?”

Molly nodded her head sheepishly, tucking her chin as if in servitude. Drake shot a look to Albert, the pair sharing the same opinion. The reports of her being in an abusive relationship were true.

Drake waited as Molly took a seat, her shoulders somewhat relaxing as she sank into the soft leather. He knew, all too well, how comfortable the couch was, having spent many nights sleeping on it when he couldn’t face going home to Deidre.

“As you know, this is Albert Stetson,” waving his hand to his left. “My attorney and, as far as the state of Georgia is concerned, yours as well.”

Drake paused before continuing. He and Stetson had purposely kept his name out of the initial conversation. They knew once she heard the name, it could compromise their plans.

“My name is Drake.” Standing, he crossed the room to his desk, pulling open the bottom drawer and removing the envelope containing the promised ten thousand dollars. Channeling as much charisma as he could, he kept one finger on the envelope as he slid it across the table in Molly’s direction.

“Drake Hannigan.”

Molly’s eyes shot from the envelope to his face, her stoic features remaining intact as she studied him.

“Now, before you jump from your seat, I do have a few things I would like to clear up before giving you the option to disappear.”

Molly gave nothing away as she continued to stare at him, a practiced reaction from what he hoped was her time in prison and not years of abuse she suffered.

“As I said, my name is Drake Hannigan, and I am the current leader of Boston’s largest Mafia Family. I know you had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting my ex-wife, Deidre. Trust me when I say, you have nothing to fear from me, or anyone, in regard to what happened to her. If your involvement is as vast as my research indicated, then you have my gratitude for ridding the world of such a vile creature.”

Laura appeared to his right, placing a napkin on the table, followed by a tall bottle of beer. Molly scooted to the edge of the sofa, gripping the bottle as if it were a life ring, tipping her head back and chugging half of the beer. As she lowered the bottle, she closed her eyes in ecstasy, “Oh, God, that felt good.”

Drake raised his bottle, tipping the lip in the air in a mock toast. “To the devil himself. May he understand the true meaning of suffering as he welcomes Deidre to his home.”

Molly tipped the bottle back once again, her eyes remaining on Drake. After draining the bottle, she placed it on the table, and took the envelope, tucking it into the pocket of her jacket. “I didn’t kill your wife, and despite your show of how much you loathed her, I won’t tell you who did. I will say thank you for getting me the fuck out of prison, and for the money.”

“I appreciate your candor, Molly. And your loyalty to your friend, but I already knew you didn’t kill Deidre. I have Stetson here working on getting Beth Olson, proper counsel.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

Drake drained his beer, signaling to Molly if she cared for another. Nodding her head, he looked to Stetson who stood and left the room.

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