Page 92 of Bad Habit
“Could be it.” I took a long sip of my coffee, hoping the answers would be housed in caffeine. “We did an inventory of the haul. Shane was right about one thing.”
“Hey!” Shane butted in.
“Stuff in there is high-end, latest models, some industrial-sized screens worth fifty grand each—wholesale—and there’s a lot of it.”
“And baby formula,” Dillon added.
“What?” Nick barked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Strangest thing. Couple of skids worth of baby formula stashed in the middle of the good stuff. Bizarre. Must have been a screw-up when the container got loaded.”
“Dump it in the bay,” Nick said.
I shrugged. “Might be worth something.”
“Not compared to everything else.” Shane started pacing again. “When are you going to sell the goods? When do we get paid?”
“Patience,” I said to Shane. Nick was right about him being high. I stood and wrapped my arm over his shoulder. “As long as Keagan’s under arrest, we’ve got to be careful. Glad I worked that contact in Vegas.”
