Counterfeit Love

"In the grand scheme of things, it's cheap," she countered, answering me, but speaking to her friends. "Don't let his shabby little office fool you, he's rolling in it. And he is going to help fund us."

"See now, here is the part where I need to interject," I piped in again. "Dollface, I never said I was going to fund shit."

"Oh, but you will say it," she shot back, a wicked little smirk pulling at those pouty lips of hers. "And do you want to know why you will say it?"

"Is it just me, or is she terrifyingly creepy when she makes veiled threats like that?" Vance said to Ferryn.

"Yeah, angel, I'd like to know why I would say something like that." Unlike Vance, I didn't find her intimidating. Just interesting. Beautiful. Maybe a little enigmatic.

"Because if you don't agree to fund our little mission," she started, gaze slipping to me once again, and there was some impact with it, right in my gut, something visceral, undeniable, and completely foreign to me, "then I am going to need to make a little call." She leaned forward at that last bit, reminding me of my third grade teacher when she wanted to bitch me out in that whisper-yell voice only maternal figures seemed capable of. "Do you know who I have the number for, Finchy?" she asked.

That nickname was meant to be demeaning. I shouldn't have been into it. But I found I liked the way it sounded in that honey-sweet voice of hers.

"No, doll, can't say that I do."

"Does the name Ewan O'Neal ring a bell?" And damn if she wasn't sexy as hell when she was delivering a death blow.

I felt the color draining from my face; the little hairs on my arms and the back of my neck raised, sent a chill through me.

"I thought that it might," she told me, nodding. "Anywho, you've done a pretty good job of avoiding him thus far. It would be a real shame if he learned where you are hanging up your cap these days."

My gaze held hers, trying to gauge her actual feelings beneath the almost giddy mood she seemed to be in.

I don't know if it was a power move on her part, but she refused to break eye contact first, leaving me to do it. I took the chance to glance over at Ferryn and Vance, trying to read something on their faces, but they seemed to be focusing on Chris too.

"That would be a shame," I agreed. "And what mission do you want help funding?"

"How do you feel about human trafficking, Finchy?"

"Look," I said, holding up a hand. "I might not be the most moral of men, but I draw the line at that fucking shit. I'm not getting involved with trafficking. Not even for you, dollface."

"We don't traffick people," she snapped, tone biting, pissed that I would even think that of her. "We take down traffickers."

To that, my gaze slid over to Ferryn, a chuckle moving out of my chest. "That makes a lot of sense," I agreed, thinking back to my interactions with Ferryn in the past. She had been hard as nails and sharp as the blade she always had on her. A woman roughened that much had to be that way for a reason. Apparently, that reason was that she was someone who executed the scum of the earth. "Well," I agreed, slowly getting to my feet, "it is important to be altruistic. I think we have a deal. Chris, was it?" I asked, reaching my hand out to her.

I wasn't a man of elegant words. I couldn't describe the horror that overtook her face as her gaze moved down to my outstretched hand, but I knew it was there. Raw and pulsing, a wound not healed over.

"We got a deal," I said again, curling my hand into a fist and quickly bumping it to hers, hoping that look on her face would go away, not liking it there.

"Perfect," she said, pulling herself together so quickly that I found it hard to believe the horror was even there a moment before. "I am going to need a number to reach you at."

She was all business again, but I couldn't help but think it was a bit of a cover. Because she had exposed too much. "You want my number, angel?" I asked, smile suggestive, wanting to lighten the mood.

As I expected, she ignored that entirely.

"We are going to need to do something about your security here. I mean, I don't want our money just walking off if the local delivery guy spots all this cash lying around," she declared, shaking her head. I kinda liked the tangent she was on, so I didn't bother reminding her that it wasn't our money, it was mine.