My future is decidedly undecided. My world has been turned upside down, not just by some megalomaniac who decided I’m better off dead now despite the fact I’ve held my tongue for the seven years I was in prison and haven’t named him as a conspirator in my crimes, but by a tall, built, gorgeous biker dude who turned out to be an FBI agent.
I can’t reconcile how I feel about Griff and the pure fear facing me as I struggle to get my life back in order again.
The only thing I know is the sooner we take down Bogachev, the sooner I can at least get back to what my normal used to be.CHAPTER 12GriffinOne of the guys that was in the conference room yesterday meets me at the steel gate of the Jameson building. Kynan had not bothered to introduce me to anyone. By the glares I’d gotten from all the men in the room, I took it they didn’t really care to be introduced.
But this morning, Saint Bellinger seems amiable enough as he shakes my hand and introduces himself. Handing me a small fob with a digital passcode, he says, “That changes every four minutes, but it will get you through the gate here.”
I follow him through the underground garage to a heavy steel door where I watch in fascination as he unlocks the door with a retinal scan. I’d seen Kynan do it yesterday, but I didn’t feel comfortable remarking on it.
Not so right now.
I want to learn everything I can about this organization I’m going to be working with. “That’s pretty high speed,” I say off-handedly.
“You wouldn’t believe some of the things Bebe and Dozer have come up with for us,” he replies. “I’m not sure if they’ll add you to the retinal scan, but if not, someone will come let you in each morning when you arrive.”
“Dozer?” I ask, wondering who the other half of what must be a dynamic duo is.
We enter the bottom floor, which looks like nothing more than an abandoned warehouse with graffiti on the walls and litter strewn about. It’s a cover for what this building actually holds.
“You saw him yesterday,” Saint replies over his shoulder as we move to the freight elevator that will take us up. “Black guy… super good-looking, annoyingly smart, and very protective of Bebe. Don’t be surprised if he’s an ass to you today.”
“Duly noted,” I reply, and I have to wonder… why is he super protective of Bebe? I don’t like the surge of jealousy that rears its head over someone being close enough to be protective of her. I’d sort of assumed she was a loner given the things I’ve learned about her and her history.
We get off at the second floor, and Saint leads me to the same conference room we were in yesterday. He explains this floor holds the offices, conference rooms, and workstations. The third floor has a firing range and was previously where Bebe and Dozer developed their tech, but that’s been moved to a sub-basement level.
“And the fourth floor?” I ask, having noted just how tall the building was in my prior visits.
“Private quarters, communal living area,” he replies. “Bebe moved into one of the apartments this morning.”
“And Aaron and Gloria?”
He throws a genuine smile my way because he can hear the concern in my voice. “On a flight for California with two of our best agents, Jackson Gale and Ladd McDermott. They’ll be safe until we can handle this shit with Bogachev.”
We wind our way through a maze of desks, some manned with people diligently working at their computers. The conference room comes into view, and I can see Bebe, Kynan, and Dozer in there. Bebe’s huddled over a laptop, Kynan’s scrolling through his phone, and Dozer is pacing. They all look up when Saint opens the door and motions me in. He doesn’t stay, shutting it behind himself, presumably having more important things going on.
Kynan gives me a short smile, then nods toward the seat next to Bebe. First, I take the opportunity to introduce myself to the man sitting on her other side, who only stares impassively.
I move to him, holding my hand out. “Griffin Moore.”
Dozer looks down to my hand, then back to me, his jaw locked and his eyes clearly refusing to accept civility.
To my surprise, Bebe elbows him hard in the ribs.
“Goddamn it, Bebe,” Dozer grumbles, rubbing at his side.
“Be nice,” she warns him, then looks up from her computer to give me a smile.
Dozer reluctantly takes my hand and shakes it. “Dozer Burney.”
“Good to meet you,” I reply, then move past him to the seat on the other side of Bebe.
“Dozer is our master strategist,” Bebe advises me. “He’s smarter than most people on the planet, and Kynan stole him from NASA.”