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I could protect.
I could shield.
I could do what was necessary to enforce that protection. But considering feelings and emotions and being sensitive about someone else was totally new territory to me.
This was where I was.
I loved Bailey, but I had to do things that might hurt her.
Ripping into Griogos Maragos had factors that could touch on her, but I had to get it done. No matter the consequences.
I had his quarterly taxes for the past twenty years.
I had images of each of his children, bastard or not. I had their net worths, their spending habits.
I had the names of his current wife, his last wife, and his two mistresses.
I also had the bank account he thought no one knew about.
Every third month, a quarter of a million dollars was deposited into it.
Every third month, the day after that money got put there, he got a visit from Calhoun Bastian.
I had the locations for each of those visits, too.
What I didn’t have was any video or audio recording of those meetings. They were always set too far away for any listening device to get close.
I either needed to go on a hunting trip or I needed to hire a better private investigator. The ones I had were the best in the world. I knew this because no one knew I had worked with them. No. One.
That meant I needed to go hunting.
First up, lunch with his granddaughter.
I picked up the phone. “Victoria, let’s do lunch tomorrow.”
TWENTY-TWO
Bailey
“Men suck.”
Torie announced this to the world while standing on a table in a seriously scary biker bar, holding a shot in the air. I knew this already, because she had burped that confession to me in the bathroom, jerked her clothes in place, fluffed her hair, touched up her makeup, and strode out of there like she was on a mission to save the universe from an impending alien attack. Also at the table was Tamara, or Tam as she was sometimes called, and she was three sheets to the wind.
We had started at Torie and Tamara’s apartment, where they finished dressing, saw that I hadn’t changed, and proceeded to “make me up” (their words) for a night of drinking and dancing. I was wearing skintight jeans—my compromise because a miniskirt was not my thing—and a halter collar tank top that fitted me almost like a glove. My hair was in a braid. I had makeup on, makeup that shined and glistened and made me look like I almost belonged on a magazine cover.
When they started reaching for the jewelry, I stood my ground. I’ve never been a big jewelry person. It was my nonwoman card. Chrissy always gave me the same look they were giving me now, whenever she tried to gift me a bracelet. She knew necklaces were always out, but sometimes I broke down and took on a bracelet, until those started feeling too constricting. So bracelets were out, too.
But the pumps. I had the best pumps on. I hadn’t had much practice, but I was enjoying the whole wavering effect. Made me feel like I didn’t need to drink. I was already on a roller coaster.
So I looked like I was three sheets to the wind but was not, while Tamara actually was and didn’t look it, not one bit.
I was thinking the heels were the main reason I wasn’t drinking as heavily as the rest of them, but they weren’t noticing. When we showed up, Torie’s eyes got big, taking in Connor, who said he’d stay for another shift. So it was Scott, Connor, Grand, and Row. I just met Grand and Row that night. I met Connor previously. He was the guard Kash pulled from Calhoun so in my mind, Connor was epic.
Tamara saw the guys and said, “Cool! We got four sober cabs standing right here. Babes, we can drink!”
We started with wine at the apartment. Coupled this already with dancing.
Went to a pub, had beer. Coupled that with dancing, too.
We were now in the biker bar, and you guessed it—we drank and danced.
It was around midnight when Tamara had an idea. “Hey! We should check out that new place. Octavo.”
Torie loved that idea. So did Melissa.
Connor and Scott, not so much.
I knew Scott better, so he shot me a look and I remembered Kash’s warning.
“Uh. What about Naveah? We can end the night there.”
“Girl! No way.” Tamara was shaking her head, and she pointed at Torie—or where she thought Torie was. Torie was on the south side of the table. Tamara pointed to the north side of the table, where Melissa was bouncing and beaming. Tamara thought Melissa was Torie. Neither Melissa nor Torie realized this. And Tamara kept on, “She works there already so much. We go there and she’ll be roped into working. I know it.”
