Page 73 of Filthy Truth


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“Belyaev must have had an empire by the time he died.”

“I think that’s why they wanted him gone. Ya know, stop him before he got too big for his britches. If he was feeding Kuznetsov intel, that probably didn’t help matters.” She sniffed. "All supposition though. Finding out why these bastards do what they do is next to impossible."

“Understatement.”

“Yup.”

The driver’s door opened and Conor hopped in behind the wheel, bringing with him the scent of oranges.

It was refreshing.

Freeing, almost.

It took me away from the truth of the moment and made me think, instead, of good times.

Better times.

“It’s colder than a witch’s tit out there.”

“How do you know witches have cold tits?”

“On the behalf of all witches, I’m annoyed,” Troy concurred.

Conor grunted. “It’s a saying.”

“In which part of the world?”

“My world. Witches can be men too. Now, who’s being sexist?”

“They’re warlocks. Wizards if you’re a Harry Potter fan. Which,” I tacked on before he could speak, “knowing you, you are.”

“I prefer Star Wars.”

“What does one have to do with the other?”

“If you know, you know,” he taunted. “Anyway, witch, warlock, or wizard, ever heard of man boobs?”

“I’ve heard of them. Surprised you have.” Especially when I thought of his pecs.

“I was chubby as a kid.”

“No way.”

“I lived on my computer and hacked into NASA for fun, Star,” he drawled. “I didn’t play outside much because I knew what the boogeyman looked like and I was addicted to video games. What about that sounded healthy?”

“Why did you hack into NASA?” Troy queried. “They have none of the good stuff.”

“Everyone’s a fucking critic. I was curious, okay? And it got me into more shit than it was worth,” he groused.

“He’s on a watch list,” I explained to Troy.

“Aren’t we all?”

“In this car, sure,” I demurred.

“Which agency?”

“NSA,” Conor grumbled.

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