5. That’s a Girl’s Name
Chapter 5
That’s a Girl’s Name
Griff
Komrat, Moldova
The stalks of wheat rustled in the breeze. The sky was gray, overcast, and dull, pounding on the rooftop.
This was the day marked in red on my calendar. It was the one appointment I couldn’t miss.
My body thrummed with eagerness, as a lone figure walked up the dirt path towards me. She pulled the driver side door open and hopped in, shivering against the autumn rain.
“Here’s your phone.” Sierra tossed a cell on my lap.
Since I was not a native Russian Speaker, she had to be the one to retrieve my phone from the dead drop in the middle of the park in Chisinau. I should say… she spoke Russian like a native. Calling her a native Russian would likely get me socked in the mouth.
My single request drove my boss bat shit crazy because I was so rigid when it came to this that they had to turn operations upside down to accommodate me. But they were getting a damn good deal, since I literally requested nothing else all year and they got their money’s worth.
I waited, looking at Sierra with a raised brow.
“What?” she said, glowering at me with irritation.
The scar on my thigh throbbed with the pain as the cold of the early morning rain seeped into my skin through my clothes, even over the car’s blasting heater.
“A little privacy?” I said, annoyed. Those were the rules.
“Oh, come on! It’s pissing rain out there!” Her Ukrainian accent was stronger when she was mad. “You’re just crabby because I looked at your personnel file, aren’t you?”
I was. I had been ever since I woke up from my gunshot wound induced unconsciousness to find her with her feet up, my personnel file in her hand, reading it out loud like it was a novel.
She was a pain in the ass but a damn competent field agent, and a really creative killer.
“Rules are rules.” And just because I got to stick her outside in the rain for the next fifteen minutes… well, that was just a bonus.
“For fuck’s sake!” She rolled her eyes, shouldering open the door as she glared at me. “Asshole… Yob tvoyu mat’ !”
“The hell did you just say about my mother?” I called with a laugh as she slammed the door so hard that it rocked the whole vehicle.
My knowledge of Ukrainian swear words was growing.
I swiped the screen of the phone and called the only number that was saved.
My Firefly answered on the first ring. “Mom, I don’t want to talk about it!”
I chuckled at her irritation. “She got to you first, huh?”
There was silence on the other end. I could imagine her looking at her phone, realizing it wasn’t who she thought it was. Her furrowed brow, her narrowed eyes. She’d pull the phone away to double check the name. A video call was out of the question, and I was glad of that. It would be unbearable to see her and know that I couldn’t touch her. She’d be able to tell how much I missed her. I’d see with my own eyes that she didn’t miss me the same way.
That would be devastating.
“Hey, Asshole,” she said with a slight laugh on her sigh.
“Happy birthday, Psycho,” I said, a smile tugging on my lips.
Christ, when was the last time I had smiled?
“You’re a day early, dumbass.” I loved her attitude. Over the years, I’d come to enjoy the bite of her sass.
“Bullshit,” I protested. “Check your watch.”
I heard a shuffle, and a laugh. “You’re right. Two minutes after midnight.”
“That’s what I thought.” I really hoped she could feel my smugness over the phone. But just in case she couldn’t, I added, “You don’t have to tell me I’m right. It’s enough to know that you’re wrong.” Her snort made me laugh, “I can hear you rolling your eyes.”
There was a moment of silence where she was just breathing on the other end. I’d bet she was smoking. She always had a stress cigarette after talking to her mother. Poor chick.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d call,” she said.
“I always call on your birthday.” Once a year. The best day of the year.
“But I saw you a few months ago. I figured you’d give this one a rain check.”
“Never.”
I wondered where she was - was she in Mourningkill with Top and his wife, swinging on their porch? Was she at her shitty camper in the middle of nowhere? The camper with almost no electricity, a college dorm room sized fucking fridge, near that frigid stream? Or had she stowed away in my apartment in Northern Virginia, right outside of Crystal City?
I didn’t want to ask. Not on an open line like this.
Not when I had done so well not stalking her. I had let everyone else do it instead while also demanding they not tell me anything. It was easier that way to pretend I wasn’t a creep. Either way, with a leak somewhere out there, I didn’t want to take chances. Not with her.
I was relatively certain that our communication was secure, but you could never be too careful in my line of work. I’d never be too careful when it came to her safety.
“And now I won’t talk to you again until next year.” Was that bitterness in her voice? Did she miss me?
“I’m coming back soon,” I promised.
She never asked where I was, or what I was doing. She knew better than to do that, which is more than any other woman had ever done.
I didn’t know what I’d do if our roles were reversed. I’d go mad with fear, rage and jealousy if I didn’t know she was safe at all times. Now with the added threat of Matthews…
I was teetering on the brink of insanity with my obsession. There were a thousand ways that a human could die. There were a thousand ways I’d imagined showing up at her trailer to find her gone. I made contingency after contingency to make sure that she was safe. The moment her name showed up anywhere - blotter, police report, government report - I was notified. I had our support team running scans of all medical facilities, in total violation of HIPAA, to notify me if she ever went to the ER for any reason. I was consumed with the need to know that she was okay.
If she cared about me the way I did about her, she’d never have let me leave the way she did after I was shot.
“You said that last year.” Taz sounded like an irritated girlfriend, begging for a date night.
My sweet little Firefly. Do you miss me? Even a little?
I opted for sarcasm instead.
“Aww, did you miss me, you little nut job?” I teased, smiling as the words left my lips.
Please, say that you miss me, Taz. Tell me that you think about me as much as I think about you.
“Fuck, no! Not after the last time! You’re such a baby when you’re hurt!” She was lying. I could hear it in her tone.
“You mean when you got me shot?” I feigned irritation.
How could I be mad, though? I was bed bound, or on crutches. She had stuck around to nurse me back to health, with her particular “bedside manner” which consisted of her berating me for three months.
I loved every second of her attention. I would go through it all again. But maybe without the bullet this time.
“I mean it this year. I’m coming home.”
I had been undercover for two years. I had gone home twice in that time. Once, for the bullet wound. A second time for a mandatory family function – one of my mother’s fundraiser galas that she and my father insisted I could not miss. I absolutely could miss it and would in the future.
“I’ll be there for your next birthday. We’ll do it up right, big ass bonfire, throw in some fireworks. Scare the fuck out of the neighborhood.”
She let out a long sigh. “I appreciate that, Griff. But we go so long without talking, I always wonder if… you know…”
She couldn’t say it. It was bad luck to say it out loud.
“Sometimes, I worry about waiting for a phone call that won’t come, because I wouldn’t know if…”
If I was dead.
The air shifted with the conversation, taking hold of my breath.
“It’s not like your mom would call me to let me know the bad news, right?” She let out a small, sad laugh. “Maybe Kristin would. She still hates me, and would probably love to rub that in.”
My ex-wife’s social media campaign to smear Guerro after the divorce was her retaliation. It was a move designed to hurt – but Kristin didn’t know women like Taz Guerro. Kristin’s hate in the Military Wives clubs slid off Guerro like water off a duck, and I made sure that everyone knew the truth. Hell, for two years, it was practically my introduction at every one of Mom’s events, because she was trying to push me and Kristin to reconcile.
Hi, I’m Kai Griffith. Yeah, the son of Roland Griffith. My ex-wife also slept with my best friend. Enjoy the hors d’oeuvres…
The thought that Kristin would know if something happened to me, and not her? That stung.
“You’ll know.” It was awkward for me to hint that she’d know if I was dead.
She’d be the only person that would be told if something happened to me. Dad would find out through other channels, but for my Firefly? She’d get a uniformed officer at her door, and a chaplain to break the news. Then a lawyer would call. I gave him explicit instructions to open the conversation with “Griff is dead, so let’s see what you’ve won!”
I ordered him to say it like a game show host, but I didn’t have high hopes. The guy was drier than vacuum-sealed flour.
He’d give her the ring I had made from two shell casings that they’d dug out of my body and I hoped that she’d infer from that the truth. A last ditch effort to talk about that night, even if the conversation was one-sided since I’d be… well… dead.
But that wasn’t a discussion worth having now. Not yet. So I changed the subject.
“Why are you up so late? I was expecting to wake you up.” Yeah, I was that asshole. Inconveniencing Guerro was one of my favorite pastimes. If we were in grade school, I’d pull her hair and lick my finger and shove it in her ear. “Did you have a hot date?”
She snorted. But then she went uncharacteristically silent. “Kind of.”
I lifted a brow, feeling a stabbing pain in my chest.
“Oh?” Don’t sound jealous. Don’t sound jealous. “What’s his name?”
What’s his address, and social security number…
I took a deep breath, trying to not picture this faceless man dead in a ditch.
“Riley,” she said, slowly, as if she was dreading my reaction.
Don’t be an asshole. Don’t be an asshole.
“That’s a girl’s name.” And… failed.
“I knew you were going to say that!”
Of course she did.
“It is!” I laughed, but it was strained. Nothing was funny about this. “So what does Riley do for a living? Wait, let me guess.”
I brought a finger to my mouth, making a thinking face that I knew she couldn’t see, but I was still pretty sure she’d know I was doing it, and it would irritate her.
“A Liquor Mixologist?” A bartender. “A coffee sommelier?” Barista . “Does he make hemp hats for park squirrels?” I had no idea if that was a real job, but… it could be.
“Jesus, where do you come up with this shit?” Her change in tone told me she was smiling. Why wouldn’t she be? I was charming, after all. “You’re such an asshole.”
“When do I get to meet him?” I almost smacked myself on the forehead, because I had momentarily forgotten where I was. I couldn’t just pop on over to hang out for a couple beers. Not yet, at least.
She let out a sigh. “The next time you come over.”
So, she was counting on never, huh?
Well, challenge accepted.
She just didn’t know it yet.
I was coming home. Cerberus was disbanded until the leak could be plugged, and my first stop would be her trailer with the key I had with my personal belongings.
We had always exchanged house keys when we were teammates. A habit we continued despite the night we could not talk about. Once a year, she promised to check that my DC condo hadn’t burned down, and that I hadn’t left some rotting food in the fridge. If she was being a smart ass, she’d tell me that she’d watered my plastic plants, and taken an upper decker in all the toilets.
Why did I have her keys? Well, because it was a safety precaution. She always sent me a copy of her keys with the numerous addresses she had had over the years.
How the fuck could she think that we were just friends?
“Tell me something fun,” I said, putting her on the spot, feeling the bitterness welling up inside me again, and needing to tamp it down.
“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “Did you know it takes five pounds of C4 for every pound of body weight to atomize a person?”
I thought about that, trying to do the calculation. To atomize a body? As in split all it’s atoms? Carry the one… how many joules…?
“So, it’d take you 1000 pounds to atomize me? That’s like… 800 bricks of C4. That’s a wildly impractical way to dispose of incriminating evidence.”
“Right? Which leads me back to alligators as my favorite cadaver removal service.”
“You really hated the Florida phase of Ranger School, huh?” I said with a grin.
She hated humidity and water. She was all about fire and heat. If it wasn’t for finding an outlet as a pyrotechnic, or engineer, she’d probably be put away for arson.
“Didn’t you?” She chuckled, and it sounded like bells chiming; light and sweet. “Or are you a fan of swamp ass?”
“I like nut butter, too. I spready it on croissants,” I countered, trying to gross her out even though I knew she’d take it in stride. “And you’re disgusting.”
“I made you laugh.”
“Just because I’m laughing doesn’t mean I’m joking.”
There was shuffling on her end, and I wondered where the hell she was. Was she outside? In her trailer? Was she out and about? What was she wearing?
Sierra’s fist pounded on side of the van, warning me that my time was up.
“I gotta go,” I grumbled as Sierra’s scowling face appeared in the fucking window. God damn creep!
“Alright.”
I had to know if she was safe. At least for now, until I could get there. Matthews had very, very specifically mentioned her, and I had to be sure…
“What’s the security like around your house?” I asked, hoping she’d understand what I was asking.
“I’ve got motion detectors, cctv and an armory.”
The armory, of course, being her own little collection of pistols and rifles. Fucking hot.
Relief filled my chest. “Nothing unusual happening around you in the last few days, right?”
“Nothing but the coy-dogs and owls.”
“What’s a coy-dog?”
“A coyote-dog hybrid. They’re really cute.”
“Please tell me you didn’t adopt one.”
There was a brief silence, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. When her voice came over the speaker, she gave me the answer I already knew was coming.
“His name is Cody.”
“You sure it’s a he?”
“No, but that’s like… the least important part of him.”
I looked down at my junk. “No man in the world will ever agree with that statement.”
“Cody’s got more to him than just his dick, Griff. Not everyone’s preoccupied with their danglers.”
“You’re preoccupied with my dangler.”
It was a reflex to childishly turn her last statement around. Like your mom goes to college. It slipped out before I could realize what it meant.
She paused. So did I.
Would she acknowledge it? The fact that she had seen my cock. Begged for it, in fact. And I had obliged. But just like every other time, she definitively closed the topic.
“See you soon, yeah?” she said, as if we talked every night on the phone.
“Yeah, Psycho. I’ll talk to you soon.” In fucking person. “Happy birthday.”
The van door opened as Sierra climbed in, her strawberry blonde hair completely soaked, making a brilliant impression of a drowned New York rat. The rain on her jacket caused dark spots on the cloth seats, as she shook out her head, splashing me in the face.
“Jesus!” I grumbled, holding the phone away from my face. “What are you? A wet dog? Knock it off.”
Agent Sierra glared at me but stayed silent.
I could still hear Taz breathing on the other end of the line. She wouldn’t hang up first. She never did.
“First round’s on you when I get there, Psycho. Find a place that serves Belgian Whites.” I clicked the red button to close that line of communication without a farewell. I never wanted to tell her good bye.
Then I pulled out the SIM, removed the battery, and tossed the pieces into the center console.
“How’s your girlfriend?” Sierra asked, settling into the seat, and putting her hands in front of the vents to get some warm air on her fingers.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
She snorted at me, then rolled her eyes. “Sure, bro.”
“She’s not. She’s dating some guy, I guess… Riley…”
“That’s a girl’s name.”
“That’s what I said!”
Finally, Sierra and I agreed on something.
“Want me to look into him?” Her offer implied that she’d do a thorough background check, and get super personal, to figure out if we’d need to kill him or not.
It took me way too long to respond, but I finally said, “No.”
Having Sierra look into you was violating. She could be so far up their ass, they’d feel her fingers making them talk like a puppet before the day was through. It was just one of the scarier things about her. The fact that she was a sociopath was the other.
“You sure?” This was her version of showing that she cared.
“Yes.” No.
I fucking wanted his name, social security number, income tax reports, and… everything. What if he was a bad guy? What if he was mean to his girlfriends? What if he hurt small animals, and kicked puppies? What if he was some weak-spined piece of shit that would diminish her fire like so many of her boyfriends before?
I finally nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
I wanted to know his intentions. I wanted to know if they were serious or if he was just some flavor of the week.
Please be a flavor of the week.
“She’s not… my girlfriend,” I finally bit out. “You shouldn’t look into him.”
I said the words slowly, willing myself to believe them.
“That’s not what your paperwork says…” Sierra snorted. “Hell, if I’d just read your Will, I’d put my money on you two being common-law married, at least. So why haven’t you?”
“Why haven’t I… what?” I sighed, rolling my eyes.
Sierra was an annoying menace that had no sense of boundaries, but other than Guerro, she was the closest thing I had to a friend.
“Put a ring on it,” she said, blowing into her hands, rubbing them together for warmth.
“I have an ex-wife and a work wife. What more do I need?” I blinked at her. “Also, why the fuck you reading my personal shit for?”
“I’m a spy! You can’t expect me not to snoop when the only thing you ask for in your contract is a few minutes to call some random.”
“She’s not some random!” Irritation prickled down my skin. “She’s the closest thing I have to family, so lay off.”
“Ouch!” She placed her hand over her heart, and feigned hurt. “And I thought I was your family.”
“Fuck you.” Everyone knew my issues with my father. Being a Griffith was both an asset and a liability, and my team had to know who they were dealing with.
Sierra chuckled, again, taking the car out of park, and popping on the headlights.
“Is Cerberus really over?” Sierra asked, peering into the rain. “I mean, we’re just… done?”
“It’s not over. Just a pause,” I corrected her. “We can’t conduct operations against American citizens, especially on US Soil. We must hand it over to America’s finest. Hopefully they’ll plug the leak.”
Sierra let out another snort. She had no faith in the state department, or law enforcement. She’d been recruited into Cerberus while in prison. But we didn’t talk about that.
“Now what do we do?” She asked, leaning back in the seat as the vehicle idled.
“We go home and get some rest,” I shrugged.
I hadn’t been home in a very, very long time.
“It’s such bullshit,” she grumbled.
It was her strange pet peeve - handing the end of missions off to someone else. She was a woman who believed in closure. Usually the kind that came in the form of a bullet to the head.
That and she didn’t like to go too long without killing someone.
“We know there’s an attack, and they won’t let us investigate.” She shook her head.
“Nothing stops us from investigating,” I said, with a shrug. “We just can’t do anything about it.”
Halting operations for a leak would have devastated me a year ago. But now, I was ready for a vacation. Especially after that phone call.
Stupid Riley. Taz’s new relationship was going to send me into an early grave with all the stress.
“You know what, Sierra?” I said, giving in to the jealousy that was making me see red. “Look into that Riley guy. He probably lives in Mourningkill or Middlebrook. Let me know if you find anything derogatory, but nothing else.”
Yeah. She’d only tell me about him if he was bad. That meant I wasn’t violating Guerro’s privacy. Sierra was… a loophole! I wasn’t above a loophole if it meant easing my worries in regards to her safety.
My father had warned me about this before I got into the spy business, even though I chose not to follow him into the CIA. He warned me that it was hard to have morals with other people’s information. The need to know what she did every single day, and who she talked to, and who she was with? It was all consuming, because I had the information staring me in the face.
We were just friends on the best of days. Worst enemies when I was in the middle of a jealous rage.
“I’m going to respect her privacy… to a point,” I finally said, unclenching the fists I didn’t know I had balled up on my lap.
“That’s dumb.” Sierra lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “But okay.”
Her sarcasm was not appreciated.
“Are you telling me that you spy on your dudes?” I asked, chuckling.
What dysfunctional hell must that be like?
“I don’t have one, but if I did, I would put a subdermal tracker in him, easily.”
“Yeah, that’s… healthy.” I covered my mouth in a laugh.
“Maybe not, but who gives a fuck? Life is dangerous. We make it more dangerous by doing the jobs we do,” she glared at me like I was some kind of idiot. “If it increases everyone’s chance of survival, then we should violate their privacy. Remorselessly, and often.”
“You’re taking away a guy’s right to freedom! And… stalking!” I was surprised that I’d have to explain this to a grown woman. “Give me liberty or give me death.”
I was quoting the American orator, Patrick Henry. Rarely could someone disagree with such profound words… but apparently Sierra could.
“Bullshit!” She snorted. “Never take the death option. Never go quietly into the good night. Fight tooth and nail, and compromise what you have to so you can stay alive.”
She reached over to take off the parking brake, and the ancient, piece of shit van heaved with the release.
“You’d turn your back on your country to stay alive?” I wondered what she’d say… again, it was a purely theoretical exercise, and she floored me when she somberly placed her hands on the steering wheel.
“I’d turn my back on my own mother to stay alive,” she said, her fists clenched.
That silenced me. What hell had she been through before she joined Cerberus?
“If I’m alive, I can make it up to her,” she said, with finality, as she drove us out of the wheatfield in a depressing silence. “If I am dead, there is nothing.”
Further down the road, just to make sure we were on the same page, I said, “Just tell me if you find something derogatory. That’s it.”
God love her, but Sierra was shit at relationship advice. And if you didn’t lay down the law, and give her very specific boundaries, she’d would find a loophole and do whatever the hell she wanted.
“You’ve got it, boss.” Her cheeky little smile told me that I most definitely didn’t got it.