She leans into me. Eyes closing halfway, she allows herself just a second or two to cherish my touch. Then she turns her attention back to her laptop and depresses the Enter key.
“I’ve deployed the code,” she says. There’s silence on Kynan’s end. I suspect they’re hunched over the equipment in the Fairmont’s IT room, waiting to see if our test hack is successful.
We both hold our breaths as several long moments pass by.
Finally, Bebe asks, “Are you seeing anything on your end?”
“Nothing,” Kynan replies.
She mutters a curse, then starts working on the laptop again, her expression frustrated.
“Shit,” she exclaims, leaning in closer to her screen.
“What is it?” Kynan asks.
“I was able to lock onto the first Wi-Fi port, but the signal’s not jumping to the next one. It’s just too weak, and that could be for any number of reasons.”
“Let’s just wait a bit,” I suggest, eyes scanning the sequence of numbers and words on her screen that look like a foreign language to me.
So we do.
For another fifteen minutes, with Bebe becoming more and more frustrated.
“It’s not working,” she snarls, slamming back into the car seat. My chest aches when I see a slight sheen in her eyes.
“Break it down for me, Bebe,” Kynan says over the line. “What’s the problem?”
She huffs, shaking her head. “It’s just too unpredictable. In different circumstances, the feed might be better. It might not. I’ve got everything correct on my end. The Wi-Fi ports are open for us to access. It’s just an instability from point A to point B.”
That makes slightly more sense to me.
“So we try again at a different time,” Kynan suggests.
“Or we just fucking go to New York, park our car outside his apartment building, and let me hack him there. The signal will be strong enough at that point.”
“No,” Kynan and I exclaim at the same time.
“You are not getting anywhere near Bogachev,” I say with a hard shake of my head.
“Agreed,” Kynan says.
Bebe narrows her eyes, her jaw locking tight. Through gritted teeth, she says in a frost-covered tone, “You’re not the boss of me, Griff.”
“But I am,” Kynan says quietly, but his words reverberate throughout the car. “And we’re just going to have to figure out something else.”
“That’s not—” Bebe starts to say.
“Get back to Pittsburgh,” Kynan orders, and there’s no leniency in his command. “We’ll have to regroup and figure out something else. Or the FBI can just go it alone again, but, either way, you’re not going to New York.”
The line goes dead, Kynan having clearly disconnected the call.
Wincing, I survey Bebe. Although I can’t hear her, I can see her lips move and read exactly what she says.
I am so going to New York.CHAPTER 21BebeGriff casts a worried glance from across the room. My return look is sullen as I listen to Sin updating Joslyn on her pregnancy. She’s three and a half months along.
Roles are reversed tonight. The women are in the living area, sipping at drinks and nibbling on appetizers, while the men are in the kitchen putting dinner together. Kynan organized this little get-together to be held once a month for anyone from Jameson who wants to attend. Some nights, we barely have room to move around the communal living area and kitchen. Other times, like tonight, it’s a bit more intimate with only a handful of people.
I take in the men of Jameson where they are gathered around the kitchen island, swilling their beers while they talk about football and hunting season. They decided to make pizza, and they’re haphazardly throwing toppings on the four large crusts laid out along the counter.
Griff has fallen right into the ranks, lately bonding with Dozer, who is fresh off his hot date with some woman in Miami. Saint and Cruce rib Kynan for putting pineapple and ham on a pizza.
As for the women, we’re sprawled around the living room. Sin and Joslyn have the couch, while Barrett is in one of the comfy chairs with her legs crossed and a glass of wine. She’s listening to Sin and Joslyn, sometimes looking over to me in the chair opposite her. She always quickly averts her eyes, and I’m sure it’s because of the sour expression I’ve been wearing all night.
I look back to Griff to find him still staring. He’s taken the brunt of my frustration as I’ve spent all day railing at him because I want to go to New York and end Bogachev’s reign of criminality.
Of course, I’m well aware it’s not actually Griff keeping me from this task, but rather Kynan. After all, he is my boss, and he’s simply refusing to let me go.
To give Griff credit, he’s strangely been on my side.
Kind of.
I mean, in the car on the return trip to Pittsburgh from Johnstown, he spent a lot of time explaining how he didn’t think it was wise for me to go to New York. It had to do with my personal safety and how, despite New York being a city of over eight million people, he’s worried about Bogachev getting his hands on me.