Page 8 of Only You

“Oh, here they are. I’m sorry about that.” Just as I’d suspected, his eyes werewandering.

I’d given him a Port Authority ID and a Transportation Worker Identification Credential. Both were fake, but they would allow me entry when run through the system. He returned the IDs to me, and I smiled and winked. If his skin had been lighter, I was sure his cheeks would have been red.

I drove into the docks and found a parking space. Now that everything was falling into place with my employment situation. It was time to see if I could put my eyes on Nina. Thus far, she’d been elusive, but her speaking on the Cypress Docks gave me a place to start.

I reached into the back and pulled my sneakers from the floorboard. I quickly replaced my flats and secured the IDs around my neck. I stepped out of the car and headed towards the trunk. Once there, I found the fluorescent yellow safety vest and white hard hat that I’d placed there and put them on.

Hmph, a clipboard could be useful.

I also threw on a pair of glasses I’d purchased to further my disguise. In minutes, I had made my way to the warehouses where the offices were held. Before I could make it inside, someone caught my eye. It was a masked man headed toward the shipping containers. It wasn’t unusual for some workers to wear ski masks on the docks during colder months or when they worked around hazardous materials.

However, the man stood six feet five inches and had the same gait as Brice. It was a long shot that it would be him. The more I studied the man and his walk, the more convinced I became that it was. I diverted my original plan and started behind him.

CHAPTER 4

Brice

Iturned my head to look over my shoulder. I couldn’t help but feel that someone was watching me, even following me. It felt familiar, as if it were someone I knew. However, when I turned around, I saw only a nerdy-looking woman with her face down, studying a clipboard. I couldn’t tell how old she was because she wouldn’t look up, and the glasses with the pearl lanyard threw me off. It was just something about her.

Nah, Brice, it couldn’t be.

Today was chillier than usual, especially with the cold wind blowing off the water. It was approaching spring, but the weather in NC was up and down. The tall shipping container rows only made it worse, blocking the sun’s warmth. I’d come to the docks during the day because I knew the night shift handled all our shipments. There would be no one here to catch me double-checking their work. Back in the office, I discreetly rummaged through the files, being sure not to leave any traces that anyone was there.

Last year, Sincere Wright, who worked at my LA docks, asked for a transfer. I granted his wish, but it always felt like his request had come out of left field. I was paying him more than his worth in LA. Once he left, I knew he was someone I needed to keep an eye on.

Rats always go for the cheese, even if it’s in a damn trap.

Up until this point, I hadn’t found anything. I found several shipping manifests with stops and departures on routes I hadn’t sanctioned today, all with Sincere’s signature. He’d hidden them all in a desk drawer with a false bottom and lock I’d picked in seconds. I made copies and returned them to their prior location.

The containers were leaving Mexico and heading to Italy, where I believed an exchange was taking place. I knew this because the weights changed once the container reached its destination. This should have been costing us money because the travel time cost was astronomically more expensive than that spent on the short destination of Mexico. However, the money wasn’t coming up short, which is why I’d immediately left the office to find out what the fuck was in these damn containers.

As I checked the location of the containers one last time, I turned back to look again. The woman whom I had been sure was following me was gone. I pushed her to the back of my mind and continued to my destination. Once I reached it, I checked the container number to ensure it was one of ours. We had a total of twenty-five containers. Four were traveling outside their usual destination.

I looked at all the multicolored containers that had undergone years of photodegradation and elemental damage to find the one closest to the ground. I typed in the code to unlock it. I checked my surroundings once more to ensure I was alone before opening it.

The metal doors creaked loudly as I peeled them back. Inside were five rows of shipping crates. Some of which were stacked to the ceiling of the container. I slid one of the crates away from the stack and tried to wiggle it open. It wasn’t budging. Then I reached for my pocketknife, hoping it would provide enough leverage to pry it open.

The wood splintered beneath the knife's pressure as I wedged the nails that held the top in place. Finally, I removed it, lifted the top, and shifted the padding.

What the fuck? This nigga got me all the way fucked up!

I quickly slid another crate before me, wedging it in with my knife like I had with the other. Inside, instead of our drugs, I found military-grade MP5 machine guns. I quickly counted the weapons inside, and there were fifteen in each box. This container held one hundred crates. I did the math and found that the four shipping containers held approximately six thousand weapons.

“Fuck,” I shouted into the container. My voice echoed off the walls. Then I heard footsteps behind me. Someone walked in, placing a gun to the side of my head. I thought it was dock security until he spoke.

“Hey, what in the fuck are you doing in here, do you know who you’re trying to steal from you pezzo di merda.” The final partof his speech was spoken in Italian. I slowly raised my hands and turned to face him in a non-threatening manner.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said as my hand approached the gun barrel.

“Shut the fu…,” he started before I quickly wrapped my left hand around his wrist, pushing the gun towards the floor. With my right hand, I used all my force and threw my elbow up and into his head. He stumbled enough for me to disarm him. I took his gun, pointed it at him, and now he was the one with his hands up. I was so pissed I let off two shots to his chest and one to his head.

“Do I know who I’m stealing from? No motherfucker, do you know who you’re stealing from? Fuck!” I yelled into the container. Not only was I pissed at the guy I’d just taken out but it wasn’t our MO to not get answers first. I took out my encrypted phone and texted Rock.

We have a fucking problem.

Rock

Sin?

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