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“Whatever.”
“What can I do?” Griffin asked.
“It would be nice if I could actually meet you,” I admitted, the booze in my system apparently still strong enough to override my common sense. “I’m so sick of being surrounded by criminals all the fucking time.”
“You know I can’t do that,” he said.
“I know,” I agreed. “But you asked.”
“What would we even do?” he asked. “Put on trench coats and fedoras? Meet in a dark alley somewhere?”
“There are worse plans,” I answered with a chuckle. “No, I know. I’m just…I’m lonely out here man. It would be nice if you could help me with that.”
“Are you still drunk?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” I said. “How could you tell?”
“Because you get flirty with me when you’ve been drinking,” he teased.
“Bullshit,” I argued. “I’m always flirty with you.”
“I assure you that you’re not,” he insisted. “But it’s cool. I kind of like it.”
“You know what I’d like?” I offered.
“Alright,” he said quickly. “Let’s not go there tonight, okay?”
“Spoilsport,” I whined. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s just…you’re the only guy I talk to that’s still on the right side of the law.”
“I know,” he whispered. “But I shouldn’t encourage it.”
“Because you’re not interested?” I pressed.
“No, that’s not why,” he said.
“So…you are interested?” I sat up and leaned against the headboard, trying to will myself sober. The fog was lifting, but I could tell I was still too drunk to be having this conversation with him.
I’d known for a while that I was starting to develop feelings for Griffin. I’d never actually met him in person, but we’d talked on the phone for years. Each call getting more personal, more emotional. And he was right, on nights like this when I was drunk…I did get flirty with him.
I knew that nothing real was ever going to happen between him and I, hell I was pretty sure I’d never even get a chance to see him in person. But it was hard not to fall for the only man who legitimately cared about what happened to me. Even if it was just because he was protecting an asset.
“Is there anything else I can do to help you?” he asked, pointedly changing the subject.
“Yeah,” I said, suddenly remembering the only other man who cared about me. “There is, actually.”
“What is it?”
“I want you to get Speedball out,” I said.
“Matt—”
“Shut up and listen to me,” I interrupted. “He’s a kid. I know you guys can pull strings and help him. He deserves better than this.”
“He’s a junkie who’s been in the cartel longer than you have,” Griffin said coldly. “They’re the only family he has. He wouldn’t leave even if he was given the option.”
“He’s not just a junkie!” I snapped. “He’s a good kid in a bad situation. I want him out before he gets hurt.”
“I’ll make some inquiries,” Griffin offered. “But I can’t make you any promises.” He chuckled but I could tell there was no humor in it.
