Page 43 of The Mafia's Bride
Not like I can.
“Where did you leave the product?” I ask, twirling the pen in my hands. I recline into my plush seat, enjoying the feel of leather and the silence of an empty club.
It’s midafternoon, well before we open for the night. These are the moments I treasure here, away from the pumping music where the men are busy, and I’m left to just be.
Dom shifts, rubbing his forehead. He’s a small man like his father, but thicker, beefier. He spends his days in the boxing ring when I don’t need him. “With the drivers.”
I rub the bridge of my nose tiredly. This conversation has been an exhausting, infuriating mess for close to an hour now.
We don’t have drivers. We have soldiers who take the product to the prearranged locations where it’s broken up and distributed to our men on the ground. It’s a task we don’t give to the new guys because they have to earn that trust. The rest of the product is given to those who smuggle it over state lines, another higher level because of the secrecy of the routes we use. Everything is coordinated and kept on a need-to-know basis.
After years in the business, Dom should know this. He should be able to remember the titles, the positions, the faces. He doesn’t, because he’s too simple.
“They’re not drivers, they’re runners.” I drop the pen soundly. I could be home right now instead of cleaning up this fucking mess. “Did you see them take it off the docks?”
“Yea, of course.” He shrugs, leaning back into the chair. “You think I’m some kind of stupid asshole, Lex? I know what my job is.”
Clearly not, if I have to interrogate him into making sure he does his fucking job.
A job that until recently was just something for him to do so Nico didn’t feel bad for keeping the leadership role from him. An easy job that paid too much with too little responsibility. All he had to do waswatch the product come off the ship—checking it against the deliveries—and get it on the trucks.
Keep his mouth shut. Get the product off the ship. That’s it.
Now my product is missing,again, and my cousin was the last to see it go.
Months of this and I’m losing my mind trying to figure out what is happening.
“Fine. You watched it leave the docks. Did anything seem out of the ordinary to you?” At his confused look, I wave into the air. “Something suspicious. New people hanging around. Loud noises. Too much activity. Anything different than it should be.”
If he’s doing his job, he’d know the normal players. He would have noticed if there were any lurkers who didn’t belong.
At least, that’s the hope.
“No.” He throws his hands up in a way that reminds me of Zia Maria when her sauce boils over. “What is going on here? Did something happen? What aren’t you telling me?”
“No, no,” I reply quickly, smoothing my shirt down so as to avoid eye contact. “No, nothing happened. I’m making sure we’re still safe. I need to keep a tight lid on everything.” I sit up straighter, pulling my navy suit jacket down and tighten the gloves on my hands.
“With the marriage completed two weeks ago, Ace will be looking for us to uphold our end of the agreement soon. That includes bringing in her products and splitting the costs while sharing in the profits. I don’t need to remind you of her reputation and how everything needs to go according to plan so none of us are on the chopping block.”
Dom winces. “Fuck, yea, she’s batshit. Last guy that pissed her off? I heard she cut off all his fingers and shoved them down his throat before gutting him. Left him to die in an alley. It was gruesome.”
My body tenses as the images replay in my mind. Not much scares me in this life, but Ace O’Brien coming after me with a knife is high on the list.
If I can’t find who’s stealing my shit, I’ll not only have a verypissed off uncle, but I’ll haveherafter me. Being related by marriage now won’t save me from her wrath.
“And you’re making sure we’re good.” He winks, smirking. “Smart man. That O’Brien chick is psycho.”
Remembering the threat on Ace’s face when I sat down for my engagement dinner, I have to agree. I can’t let her know we’re still missing product. That we have a rat. That it’s taken me weeks to even track down which shipments are going missing, let alone when.
It’s a weakness. It shows I can’t run this family the way Nico intended.
I refuse to be seen as a weak heir.
Giving my cousin a small smile, I nod. “Just crossing Ts and dotting Is.”
“Good man.” He stands, pulling down his crumpled blue dress shirt and brushes dust from his wrinkled slacks. He’s always been messy in appearance. “I’m going to head out. There’s a race on the ponies I can’t miss. What me to place a bet for you?”
I dig out my wallet and throw a hundred-dollar bill onto the desk. “Put it on who you think will win.”
