Page 153 of 12 Months of Mayhem

“Now that,” I drawl, “is information I’m not quite ready to part with. Not until we’ve come to an agreement.”

Ricardo’s eyes narrow. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Reed.”

“Aren’t we all?” I counter, my grip on my gun never wavering. “Here’s what I propose. You and your brother come with me to retrieve the drugs. Your men stay here with Ms. Crane as...insurance.” Meredith lets out a strangled sound of protest, but I ignore her.

“And what guarantee do I have that this isn’t some elaborate trap?” Ricardo asks. “My family seems to disappear around you, or should I say around you and Rene Dixon’s daughter. Remington, I believe.”

I feel my jaw clench at the mention of Rem’s name, but I force myself to stay calm. “You’ve done your homework, Mr. Diaz. But if you know about Remington, then you know she’s not in any condition to be part of some elaborate scheme. As for guarantees...” I pause, weighing my next words carefully. “How about this? I’ll give you the location of some of the stash right now. As a show of good faith.”

Ricardo’s eyebrows raise slightly, intrigue evident on his face. He exchanges another silent glance with Mateo before turning back to me. “I’m listening.”

“Check the northwest corner of this very building. There’s a false wall behind a set of lockers. You’ll find a quarter of your missing product there.”

Meredith’s eyes go wide at my half-truth. “You found them?”

“You should have picked a better hiding place. It was pretty obvious,” I fire back. Truthfully, we didn’t have a fucking clue the location of the shipment, but neither she nor the Diaz brothers know that. So long as they don’t look too closely at the packages, they’ll be none the wiser.

Ricardo’s eyes narrow, studying me intently. After a long moment, he nods to one of his enforcers. The man steps away, pulling out a phone and speaking quietly into it.

“If you’re lying Reed...” Ricardo lets the threat hang in the air.

I meet his gaze unflinchingly. “I’m many things, Diaz, but I’m not stupid. Lying to you now would be suicide.”

The tension in the warehouse is palpable as we wait. Minutes tick by, feeling like hours. Finally, the enforcer’s phone buzzes. He listens for a moment, then nods to Ricardo.

Ricardo’s face breaks into a slow, predatory smile. “Well, well, Mr. Reed. It seems you’re a man of your word after all.” He adjusts his cufflinks, a gesture that somehow manages to look both casual and menacing. “Very well. I’m inclined to hear the rest of your proposal.”

I nod, keeping my expression neutral despite the surge of relief. “Like I said, you and your brother come with me to retrieve the rest. Your men stay here with Ms. Crane and the product I graciously delivered to prove to you that I am a man of my word.”

“And what’s to stop me from simply taking what I want now?” Ricardo asks, his tone deceptively light.

I allow a small smirk to play across my lips. “Because you’re smart enough to know that if anything happens to me, you’ll never find the rest of your product. Meredith knew where it was, not where it is now. If you kill me, you’ll never get it back.”

Ricardo studies me for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Finally, he nods. “Very well, Mr. Reed. We have a deal. For now.”

I lower my gun slowly, making a show of holstering it. “Glad we could come to an understanding.”

As Ricardo turns to give instructions to his men, I catch Meredith’s eye. I give her a cold smile, leaning in close as I pass by her chair.

“Stay the fuck away from my family, Meredith,” I whisper, my voice low enough that only she can hear. “You brought this on yourself. Cross me or my family again, and there won’t be anywhere left for you to hide.”

She flinches at my words. I straighten up, turning back to Ricardo and Mateo.

“Shall we, gentlemen?” I gesture toward the door, my tone casual, as if we’re heading out for a friendly drink rather than a high-stakes drug deal.

Ricardo nods with calm calculation. “After you, Mr. Reed.”

As we step out into the cool night air, the tension in my shoulders eases slightly. The first part of the plan worked. Now comes the tricky part.

We climb into a sleek black SUV, Ricardo taking the wheel while Mateo slides into the back seat with me.

“Address?”

I rattle off an address in the Lower Ninth Ward, a neighborhood still pockmarked with abandoned buildings from Katrina. Ricardo nods, his eyes never leaving the road as he navigates the late-night traffic.

I can feel Mateo’s eyes boring into me from the backseat, his hand never straying far from his weapon.

As we cross the Industrial Canal, I speak up. “Take a left here.”

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