To my surprise, without looking up from her screen, Bebe says, “That worked out well for Griff’s cover with me. I’m a sucker for the long hair and tatts.”
I refuse to let my chest puff out, but I don’t hide my smirk from Dozer. She clearly prefers her men to look a certain way, and I’ve got the upper hand there.
Of course, the hair and beard were part of my cover. Bebe would probably flip out if she saw me with a haircut and my standard government black suit.
Maybe one day… when this is all over, she’ll have the opportunity to see that side of me. She’ll be able to choose whether that pushes her buttons, too.
One day, maybe.CHAPTER 13BebeThe way I must die is disgraceful.
A heroin overdose on a Saturday night in a cheap apartment.
I’ve never taken an illegal drug in my life—never even smoked pot. Not much of a partier either. Those couple of beers I’d had with Griff the night before last is about as crazy as I get.
Yes, I’d rather go out in a blaze of glory like an execution—bullet to the back of the head—or having my throat slit in gory fashion.
Instead, I’m lying on the couch in Griff’s apartment, my legs splayed, and a fake needle sticking out of my inner arm. Kynan hired a makeup artist who has effectively made my hair appear greasy, my eyes sunken, and scars on the insides of my elbows from repetitive use. We’re staging the photos in Griff’s apartment as the sparse decor goes more in line with a heroin addict versus the luxury of my house.
It’s only Dozer and Griff here with me tonight. Dozer’s snapping photos from various angles while Griff watches from the kitchen. He’s been unusually quiet tonight, and I can’t figure out if it’s because this is just distasteful or he’s biting his tongue because Dozer’s been a dick to him all evening.
It’s something that’s been going on since the two officially met yesterday, and I’m getting sick of it. I know Dozer’s offended on my behalf by Griff’s duplicity, but he needs to let it go.
I have.
I just haven’t had a chance to tell Dozer I’ve let it go. Haven’t had a chance to tell him about Griff’s visit to the house and his talk with Aaron, which truly… made all the difference to me.
I’m focused now on bringing Bogachev down, and I need Dozer to get on board. I need him to stop adding stress on top of it by having this beef with Griff.
“Just a few more,” Dozer murmurs, moving in to take a close up from where I lay on Griff’s couch. “Hold still, Bebe. Let’s try a few with your eyes open if you can give me a good, unfocused death gaze.”
I focus on the light fixture above me, then let my eyes go blurry. Dozer’s iPhone makes a camera shutter clicking sound with every picture he takes.
“These are good,” Dozer says as he starts flipping through the photos. “I think we’ve got enough that we can get out of this fucknut’s apartment and—”
“Just what the hell is your problem, asshole?” Griff snarls as he advances on Dozer.
I jump up from the couch, the fake needle falling to the floor, and put myself right in Griff’s path before he can reach my friend. When I put my hands on his chest, I feel the muscles leap under his shirt. He’s got a very nice chest.
Griff doesn’t even look at me though, instead glaring over my shoulder at Dozer.
“My problem,” my best friend says from behind me, “is you led my girl on. Acted all interested in her, appealed to her girlie sensibilities so she’d invite you into her life—”
“Okay, now just wait a minute,” I snap, turning from Griff to face Dozer. “I do not have girlie sensibilities.”
Dozer ignores me, glowering at Griff.
I glance back at Griff to find him glaring at Dozer.
With a sigh, I give my regard back to Dozer, moving in close to him. “I need you to stop this. I’m not mad at Griff, so you shouldn’t be.”
“He used you—”
I cut Dozer off with a hand to his chest, opening my mouth to deny it. Before I can, Griff starts defending himself.
“What happened between Bebe and me is none of your fucking business, but if it gets you off my back, you need to know there was nothing fake in my feelings. What’s between us is genuine.”
I whirl to face Griff. He’d said that in present tense.
What’s between us.
Not what was between us.
Is there still something there? He never gave me any indication there might be when he came to my house. We only spoke of the future in terms of taking Bogachev down.
“Whatever,” Dozer replies dismissively then brings his eyes to me. “Come on. We got what we need. I’ll take you back to your apartment at Jameson, then we’ll choose the photo for him to send to Bogachev.”