Prodigal Son

Chapter 30

When Felicity arrived at Verdant, she parked Thea's snazzy, two-seat, BMW convertible next to Oliver's pickup. Her Mini Cooper would have attracted less attention in the neighborhood, but it was still in police custody and there hadn't been time to arrange for a driver. She glanced about the lot. There was no sign of Jean or the other lawyers, but she'd made good time. She was nervous but hopeful that with what she'd just found, she could convince them about Malcolm's fixer and in turn, that they could convince Carina to name the person behind her antics.

And maybe, just maybe, then Felicity could convince the police she had nothing to do with George Patel's murder.

Once she got out, Felicity checked twice to make sure she'd locked the car doors and set the alarm; the wall of flames dominating the skyline was very distracting. She smoothed her hands down the basic black sleeveless dress she'd found in her wardrobe. Not as colorful as her normal picks, but it wasn't too fancy or formal while still asking she be taken seriously. The glasses and the ponytail usually helped with that too. Glancing carefully around the back lot, she headed for the door.

Finding the large, metal door slightly ajar was her first sign something was off. Even if the boys were expecting her and had wanted to leave the door unlocked, given the time of night, the alarm should have been on and told them the door had been left unlatched. Unless the security system was glitching again?

She was eerily reminded of the last time she'd found the backdoor unarmed and almost returned to the car. But Oliver was inside waiting for her. There was such a thing as being too careful.

As a compromise, Felicity pulled out her phone, ready to call the police at the next hint of a problem. Then she pushed open the heavy door, stepped inside. The door closed behind her.

Apart from the glow of her keypad, Verdant was devoid of light. The hair on the back of her neck rose. Damn, something was definitely wrong. But before she could dial 911, she felt something cold and hard press against the side of her temple followed by the snick of a cocked gun.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

***

With the muzzle of a gun wedged against Felicity's temple, she went still even as her heart started to race. Lights came on and while she was blinking against the sudden brightness, her phone was snatched from her hand.

"I'll take that."

The gun shifted from her temple to her back. It wasn't much of an improvement, but she breathed again. The gun nudged into her.

"Move. In there. Over in front of the bar."

Felicity did as she was told. She hadn't had a chance to see who was behind the gun, but the voice...she'd heard the voice before even if she couldn't yet place it.

"Jean and the other lawyers are not coming, are they?"

The woman behind her snickered and then launched into the same professional tone she'd used to arranged the impromptu meeting. "I'm terribly sorry, but for this private meeting, the lawyers of Favre, Wesson, Smith and Barns would just be in the way. But thank you for reaching out. It made getting you here all that much easier."

Her first instincts had been right. It had been a fake call. She protested anyway.

"But I chose Verdant. I got a text from my lawyer."

"You of all people should know how easy it is to clone a number. And as for the location, it was always going to end up Verdant. You suggesting it just saved time."

The gun jabbed in her back again, propelling Felicity forward. When she came around the end of the bar, she saw something bulky half on the floor. No, not something, someone, a very specific someone. Her heart clutched and she gasped. She tried to dash the rest of the distance to where Oliver sprawled unconscious, slumped against the front of the bar. The woman wielding the gun had other ideas.