“I’m catching a flight,” Gene said, struggling with the two suitcases. “I’ll check in. Stay safe,” he said. “I’ll call if this goes south.”
Well, then, Greyson hoped he didn’t hear from him.
“You too, Buddy. See you when you get back. Bring the runner to my place. We’ll order pizza and clog our arteries together.”
That was a deal.
They’d need to start working on their contingency plan if Javier found their hidey-hole.
“See you then.”
When he hung up, Greyson picked up his phone and called down to the morgue.
It.
Was.
Time.
He was about to have a little fun and make sure that the woman who thought he was a fucking idiot got a little taste of her own deceit.
Because it was coming.
She was about to be blindsided.
He couldn’t wait.
The bottom line was that Daphne Carmichael had it coming for burning cops and helping a mob man do dirty things. Then, she had it coming for showing up inHIStown and burning two great guys to Gabe.
Fuck.
No.
When she answered, he played along, trying to sound like he wasn’t about to tap dance all over her badge—the ill-gotten one.
“Hey, the boss called. We have a case. Can you meet me in my office so I can update you before we head out?” he asked.
Her voice came over the phone, and it made him want to twist her head right off of her shoulders.
Or vomit.
He wasn’t sure which.
“Sure thing, Grey. I’ll be right there. Want me to bring coffee so we can talk?” she asked, pleasantly.
Yeah.
No.
“I’m good, but thank you, Sasha,” he offered, playing along.
Yeah, don’t drink anything that the ex-wife of a mob man brought to a party. It was going to contain spit or arsenic.
PASS.
When he hung up, he got down to business, preparing the file for her.
Oh, and she wasn’t going to like what was in it.
