Page 7 of Dare to Love Again

He’d had Dupree to deal with when they’d both been working in San Antonio. They shouldn’t complain. The man knew his way around investments and expense reports, which had made them all wealthy men, but he could also pinch a penny tighter than Ebenezer Scrooge.

“You didn’t call to commiserate with me over the skinflint ways of Eric Dupree.”

“No, I wanted to thank you for locking down Cassell so quickly. I still can’t believe we were providing security service to a drug trafficker and indirectly made it possible for him to move thousands of kilos of narcotics between here and LA.”

“As soon as you learned of his involvement, you took measures to shut it down, Cap. His corruption does not reflect on you.”

“That we took so long to discover it doesn’t look good; and that it went on right under my nose makes me physically ill.”

Silence fell on Tony’s end of the line. They’d shut down a major drug cartel operating in south Texas, only to have this fall in their laps not long after. Keiran knew he took this personally; he’d heard the fury in his voice when he’d called.

Roger Cassell, a local furniture manufacturer, had contracted with Rossi to upgrade their warehouse security after a series of break-ins. What they were really after was protection for their drug distribution center—alarm systems, perimeter alerts, and video surveillance.

Tony hadn’t thought it unusual; they’d been in operation for decades and made quality furniture. What he didn’t know about was their side line—cocaine, heroin, and meth—which they shipped inside their legitimate products to retail stores across the country.

It turned out, three were in LA, owned by Cassell, and managed by an underling, his cousin, Martin Lopez, who got greedy and was also implicated in the two-city sting.

Working with the San Antonio and local police departments jointly, they’d netted thirty-four illegal firearms, over five million in cash, along with ten kilos of heroin, and twenty-five kilos each of cocaine and methamphetamine. But their drug pipeline had been operating for years, and the impact on the families of San Antonio in terms of addiction and lost lives was unmeasurable. It’s what Tony Rossi, family man, father of three and native San Antonian found the hardest to bear.

“You need not thank me, Cap. Your team was integral to the arrests. Let’s chalk this up to another win for the good guys.”

“Yeah,” the man agreed, though to Keiran, he didn’t sound convinced. “Want me to talk to Eric about your staffing?”

“No. I’ll handle it. He can be a pain in the ass, but he’s reasonable. And, even though he’s an inch taller, I outweigh him by twenty pounds, and since he has seven years on me, I can kick his ass if need be.”

“Don’t hurt him too bad, or you’ll end up running the club while he heals.”

Echoing Cap’s earlier words, Keiran stated, “There is that.”

This got him a chuckle before Tony said good night.

He’d no sooner logged back into his computer, which had gone to sleep while they’d spoken, when the phone rang again.

With a long-suffering groan, he answered, “Finnegan here.”

“I know you’re there. The question is why?”

Speak of the devil. Keiran would have recognized the wry comment if not the voice.

“Paperwork ain’t gonna do itself, Dupree.”

“Neither are submissives going to restrain, spank, and fuck themselves, my friend.”

He dropped his pen and pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “Another night.”

“That’s what you said last week, and the week before, and the week before.”

“Are you keeping tabs on me? That’s intrusive even for you.”

He heard Eric’s grunt before he replied, “We keep attendance logs, which you’d remember if you dropped by the club every once in a while.”

“I’d like to get home and to bed before midnight. Is there a point to your call?”

“You owe me about six months’ worth of DM duty. I’ve got three club masters out of town. It’s time to pay up, bud.”

His sigh was audible. “I should wrap up my current case on Friday. I’ll come by that evening.”

“And Saturday,” Eric insisted.