Page 33 of Bad Rio

He took off his coat and sat beside her on the bed. “My boss said something about this being political. Know anything about that?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Political? I-I-”

“What?”

“My dad is currently running for a political position—for a senate seat. He’s always been active in the party.”

“A senator is a powerful position. What type of business does your dad run? You said you work for him.”

“I do. Like I told you, it’s a hubcap distributorship. We sell vintage wheel covers as well as original equipment like manufactured items, alloy and aluminum. They can be bought individually, like to a collector looking for a single product, and also in bulk to car dealerships. I oversee work orders and the shipping department and I make sure the books are balanced. My two brothers are in sales. In recent years, my father has ceded a lot of the day-to-day responsibilities to my brothers and me. He’s been spending more time traveling.”

“So it’s the three of you running the warehouse?”

“Pretty much. We have about two dozen valued employees. We all know what we’re doing. Every once in a while, Uncle Tim stops by.”

“Uncle Tim?”

“He’s not really an uncle, we just call him that. He’s my dad’s good friend and business partner. A silent partner, mostly. He comes in every few weeks, actually a lot more lately, has coffee, sits around with the guys and asks how things are going. He doesn’t really have anything to do with running the company.”

“But he invested in it?”

“Originally, when dad started the company, Uncle Tim put up funds. A payment is made to him every month. In another year our debt to him will be paid in full.”

“You like him? Uncle Tim?”

“Sure! I love him. He really is like our uncle. When we were young he’d bring us birthday gifts, small toys, ask how we were doing. Like I said, we’ve been seeing more of him lately. He’s so friendly and interested in everything, sometimes he distracts me from my work.” She gave a short laugh.

Rio studied her for a long moment. “Which part of your work?”

“What?”

“Which part of your work does Uncle Tim distract you from?”

“Rio, Tim isn’t a villain. He’s not a criminal or anything, if that’s what you’re—”

“I’m sure he’s an angel. Just answer my question.”

“Shipping,” she said. “Each afternoon around three it’s my habit to see that the orders are filled correctly. Of course I can’t look into every container. The men in that department do that and we have pretty good quality control protocols. But I do like—”

“How big are the shipping containers?”

“Different sizes,” she answered with confidence. “For smaller orders, we use cardboard boxes. For larger ones, wooden crates. Our big crates measure sixty inches, by twenty-four, by fifteen.”

He rubbed his jaw. “A lot of things could fit into boxes of that size.”

“Like what? What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know.”

“Look, my father’s business is on the up-and-up.” She sounded defensive. “Nothing nefarious is going on there. My brothers are honest, hard-working young men. And my Uncle Tim is harmless.”

“Until we get to the bottom of who’s so interested in you, nobody is harmless. Everyone is suspect.Everyone.”

Becca didn’t respond.

“It’s clear that some people, bad guys, want you dead. Other people, maybe also bad guys, want you alive. Why?” He gave her his hard-eyed stare.

Becca let her gaze fall to her hands, tightly clasped in her lap. He could see that the idea of militias and armed killers wanting to murder her was messing with her mind.

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