Benjamin’s home.
I have nothing. Everything I own in the world is because of Benjamin, yet I’ve been prepared to sacrifice that for revenge on my half-brothers.
“Have you heard from Quinn or Benjamin?” I don’t like how soft and frail my voice is. I’ve spent years sharpening my edges and building my armour so that I’m strong enough for this, and in the first step towards my goal I wind up on my ass from a panic attack?
All the booze in the apartment won’t be able to drown away the disgust I feel right now.
“No.”
“Do you expect Quinn home any time soon?” I’m hoping she’ll know something to help my guilt.
“Who knows? Probably not. I’ve learned just to expect him when he arrives.” She smiles through her words as if she has an unseen confidence. Perhaps it’s what happens when you marry someone. That little band of gold magically gives you confidence that everything will be right in the world. Only tonight, it won’t.
Fifteen
Security on the docks is tight, as usual. Luca pulls the car in slowly and drives forward enough so that the guy can get a good fucking look at me from his lit box. He’s new to me. An unknown. He stares down at me in the back of the car, squinting through the darkness with a frown on his brow and clipboard in his hand, before glancing around the area.
“You gonna pull that barrier up?” I ask quietly, as I keep staring at him. I check the wedding band on his finger and his name. Jenkins. Rick Jenkins. “Wouldn’t want to leave a pretty wife without a husband by the end of the night, Rick.” Whatever frown he dropped to piss me off dissipates as quickly as it came, surprise now there instead. “Where’s Roman?” He’s not an unknown. Five years under me with backhanders every damn time.
“Out on the docks.”
“Well, bring him here.”
Five fucking minutes I wait for that to happen, until I see the man himself running through the yard to get to this box I’m waiting at.
“Vico,” he says, huffing breath in my window. He signals Rick to leave and looks at me, the barrier rising at the same time. “Dock’s clear. I just swept it myself.” I hand an envelope of money through the window to him and nod over to the east side where DEA hang out.
“There, too?”
“Yeah. They went out earlier on, about four p.m.” Harvey did his job then. I glance out the other side of the car, checking Border Patrol. All seems quiet. Lights on, but no movement in the building. “Border Patrol shut down half day. Two boats out in the water, though.” Mmm. “I heard talk they weren’t coming back ‘til morning.”
“Heard talk. Or were there when it was said?”
“I was there, boss. Heard it myself.” Good.
“There are nine cars coming in behind me. Let them through, give me half an hour, then switch the lights down and get your guys out of here, Roman. Shit’s about to fuck up on your dock.”
He nods at me as Luca pulls us in, the car smoothly turning through the trucks and containers strewn about. I look up at them through the drizzle that’s coming down, eyeing the entire fucking place for anything that might be here already. There’s nothing that I can see, but it doesn’t stop me checking both the guns I’ve brought with me. Quinn chuckles beside me, the sound of it as hollow as the death that’s coming.
“You’re checking them now?” He laughs and looks the other way, a smile on his face as he straightens his goddamn tie.
“Fuck off, Cane.”
“Chill out. This is the fun bit.” Idiot. I shake my head and smile, though, for some reason letting his excitement wind me up. It’s like he’s on pins, ready to launch the moment I open a fucking door. “Nate says the docks are fine. He’s checked them over from surveillance four times already since we got here. No movement.”
Luca steers round to the west side that we normally port out of, so I flick my fingers through notifications on my phone, waiting for the boys in Philly to send the message letting me know the goods are being driven into New York. Nothing so far. They left earlier on, safe on the road as usual. Three and a half hours it takes them to get through the roads they travel, back routes away from the main freeways just in case some fucking cop decides to be a hero.
“That woman of yours?” I flick my eyes to Quinn, wondering what the fuck he’s about to say. “Where’s she from?”
“Why?”
“Wondered.”
“Why?”
“Fuckable. Nice legs.” All hell riles up inside my guts at his words, a scowl leveled at him that should send the message straight into his skull.
He laughs. He damn well laughs and widens his eyes at me like a fucking mad man.
