The only thing that terrifies me is Jessica dying, and I’m bound and determined to never let that happen.
“You really should let us put a team together and go with you,” Cruce says as I straighten.
I shake my head. “I’m not waiting. If you want to send someone to follow me, fine. But I’m taking that plane now… or rather as soon as Bebe gets here.”
As if fate lined up my desires with physical reality, Bebe walks through the front door. She doesn’t knock, nor has she ever. She’s my best friend and has a key to my place. She can walk in any time, just as I have the right to do in her home. Although admittedly, I walked in on her and Griff getting hot and heavy in the kitchen one day, and since then, I’ve used the doorbell.
“Thank God you’re here,” I exclaim, moving toward her. I take both canvas bags she brought and rifle through them, checking to make sure she got everything I requested. It’s a variety of electronic and tactical devices that could come in handy or may not be used at all. Best to have them, anyway.
“Want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Bebe snaps, and when I look up at her, I see Griff standing behind her. Of course he’d come too.
“I don’t have time.” I toss my head toward Cruce as I sling the canvas bags over one arm and turn toward my duffel. “Cruce can fill you in.”
“Oh, hell no,” Bebe snarls, and I’m almost jerked backward as she grabs at the bags and pulls them free. “What is going on?”
Fury rises within me, and I feel an anger toward Bebe that I didn’t think possible. “I don’t fucking have time.”
I’m the most chill man in the world, but I can see wariness in her eyes from my tone.
Griff doesn’t like what he hears and steps forward. “You do have time to tell us what’s going on. If not for us to help you, then to put Bebe’s worry to rest.”
I glance at her again, and she pleads. “Just take five minutes and give me the lowdown on wherever you’re going and whatever trouble you’re facing. Then I’m heading straight back to Jameson, and I’ll be your support from there.”
A rush of shame and frustration expels in a long breath. My mind spins, trying to put into a very quick context something that will make sense.
I choose to go with something she’d understand. “You know the times you’ve dog-sat for me when I went to Miami?”
“Yeah,” she drawls with a frown. “You have a girl there.”
“I have two,” I correct her, and Bebe’s eyebrows shoot up. “A very close, dear friend… her name is Jessica, and her seven-year-old daughter, Thea. I’m Thea’s godfather.”
“I’m assuming those weren’t hot weekend date situations,” Bebe says.
I never did say why I was going to Miami. She assumed I was going to hook up with someone, and I never rectified that. But I don’t state the obvious.
“Jessica’s in trouble. Six years ago, she testified against a member of the Russian Mafia who had committed some brutal murders down in Miami. His name is Ivan Borovsky, and I found out about an hour ago that he’s escaped from prison in New York.”
“Via the app I created to track criminals we want to keep an eye on,” Bebe says with a satisfied smile.
I manage a smile back. It’s her genius that’s given me the jump on Ivan. “He’s going after Jessica.”
“That’s a bit of a leap, isn’t it?” Griff asks, seeking a better explanation. “I mean… I’d assume this guy would run. It seems dangerous to try to exact revenge against a witness.”
“She’s not just a witness,” I admit with a fair amount of bitterness in my voice. “She was involved with him at the time. It wasn’t serious on her end, but he was sort of obsessed with her. When she went to the police with evidence—which was really what they needed to put the nail in his coffin—he took it as a serious betrayal. Trust me when I say… he’s going to kill her.”
Griff and Cruce exchange a dubious glance, and I get that this is all conjecture. But Bebe doesn’t second-guess me at all. Stepping forward, she takes my hands in hers. “Then get your ass down there and get her to safety. I’ve got your back. I assume you’ll beat Borovsky there.”
I nod gratefully. “I should be able to get to her before he does, but I am worried members of Borovsky’s family might try to take her for his use later. I can’t waste any time.”
“Then we need to go,” Bebe says, stepping away and motioning toward the door. “Griff and I will drive you to the airport.”
I should bolt, but instead, I pull my friend in for a hard hug. “Thank you.”