Page 51 of Who Said Mobsters Were Scary?
“Speak in English,” Chai instructs, his tone icy. He points at me when they continue giving me nasty looks. “This is Leon Caruso, my bodyguard. He’s taken over from Aran.”
They nod, even if they still appear as if they want to stuff me in a body bag and toss me in the ocean.Yucky.
We enter the building through a massive sliding door made of thick metal. Shipping containers are organized in rows, the doors of more than a dozen of them left open. There is nothing inside.
“Run me through what happened,” Chai tells the four men.
The oldest one among them speaks up. “Azawa was doing his rounds yesterday. Got a call from him, saying there was some van waiting at the gate. He went to see what that was about and didn’t check back in. We got here about an hour and a half later. Didn’t find him, so my guess is they probably dumped the body in the water. Warehouse was wide open.” He leads us up the nearby stairs, the metal creaking under our weight. “As you can see, the entire inventory was cleared.”
I lean forward on the railing at the top, surveying the containers. It’s stuffy in here, even if it’s still just morning. “What was stolen?”
The man looks at me and then at Chai, who perches one eyebrow expectantly. “Mostly guns and ammunition. We are still working out the exact numbers.”
“Opposing gang?” I toss, scrunching my nose when the four men glare at me. “Or organization. Whatever.”
“Could be. No one has taken responsibility.”
“Any ideas how the location of our warehouse became known?” Chai follows up, taking a cigarette out of his back pocket.
I fish out the lighter I stashed in mine and light it for him, the very subtle lift of his lips sending a bolt of heat through me.
“We are… still looking into that,” the man confirms warily.
Chai frowns at the containers below. “Get me everyone who works here. I’ve got some questions.” He takes a pull and tilts his chin at a camera overhead. “I’ll also need all the camera footage.”
The four guys go pale, pinning their gazes to the floor. “The recordings are in the control room,” the old one says, not daring to look at Chai. “But, uh, there is nothing from the past week.”
Chai narrows his eyes, pacing over to a barred window. I follow, stopping a few steps away from him as I glance at the still sea. Seagulls scream outside, soaring in the cloudless sky.
“Get the staff. And contact our source at the local precinct. See if they can give us any surveillance from the area that can help us identify the van.”
The four men rock their heels and skitter out, leaving me and Chai. I watch him smoke and pace some more as I turn the information over in my head.
The first thing that stands out is the CCTV. A missing day or two before the hit makes sense. However, an entire week, and with no one noticing, is anything if not strange.
“Not to overstep, but assuming no one is supposed to know where your warehouse is, could it be an inside job?” I say, catching his eyes as a satisfied smile blooms on his face.
“I’m glad you think so, too.”
I blink, not quite following. “You’reglad? That it might be someone working for you who’s behind this?”
“No. I’m glad that I’m not the only one thinking that’s the case.” He exhales, propping his back against the coarse stone wall. “I’ve suspected for a while that we might have a mole. My father won’t hear any of it.”
Oh. I stare at him, trying to read his handsome, smiling face. Looking for that hint that he’s maybe joking. It’s not there.
“You’re serious? I thought this would be some rival gang trying to get in the way of your business ventures.”
He chuckles, the sound proud and sexy. “I’m serious. And if my hunch is right, they’ve probably left something somewhere to make it look that way. Like a scuffle between organizations and nothing more.”
“Akiyama-san!” one of the four guys yells, dashing inside and taking the stairs two at a time. It’s the youngest one with the half-shaven head. His face is red, and he’s panting. “We found something. You need to see this.”
We rush outside after him. The rest are waiting near a loading dock, poking something in the water with long metal pole-like things. They scoop it out and drop it on the concrete. It’s a body and it looks like a truck ran it over a couple of times. Oh boy, I’m gonna puke.
I’m about to run off and spill whatever might be left from dinner last night when Chai stands next to me and places his hand at the base of my spine. He does it in such a way that the rest don’t notice it.
Rubbing gentle circles, he whispers, “Get your shit together, Leo.”
I inhale deeply, then exhale, trying not to freak out at my first encounter with a dead human not lying in a coffin.
