Page 34 of Bellini Bound
And I flat out refused to let that happen on my watch.
The acceptance of the firearms from our overseas supplier went smoothly. Every gun was accounted for and quickly loaded into the back of several box trucks. Then we were headed for our armory warehouse, located on the outskirts of the city.
This particular shipment wouldn’t stay there long. Buyers were already lined up to take the weaponry off our hands, and once cleared, we would start the process all over again.
It was a simple operation but a lucrative one. We stood to net eight figures from tonight’s delivery alone.
Pulling up to the industrial park, I punched in the code that would permit us through the gates. The chain-link barrier on the automated track moved to the side, allowing our convoy to drive to the location of our building.
I rode shotgun in the lead truck, so I was the first to hop out when we reached the steel structure. The men under my command followed suit, the repetitive clomping of boots hitting the ground a familiar sound that soothed me.
Matteo was more suited to ruling in the boardroom, but this was where I thrived—under the cover of night, riding on the wrong side of the law.
This whole process was routine, almost thoughtless. Trucks were already being unloaded, and it fell to me to unlock the doors. Very few people in our organization had the clearance level needed for unrestricted access to this facility, and I was one of them.
Stepping up to the panel that required biometrics to disengage the alarm system before granting entry, I placed my palm on the scanner.
It flashed red and chirped loudly. The words “Access Denied” lit up the screen.
I frowned and tried again, only to get an identical result.
“What the fuck?”
Matteo’s new favorite pastime was making me squirm, but this was taking it too far, even for him. If the bastard wanted to make me sweat, well, then mission accomplished.
Figuring that fucker had enjoyed his fun and was done toying with me, I went for broke on a third attempt. Only this time, blaring alarms filled the air so loud that I winced.
“What the hell’d you do?” Rocco barked, running over.
I threw my hands up. “Fuck if I know. It’s not like my fingerprints changed.”
“You have the override key?” He had to shout to be heard over the incessant wailing of the pissed-off security system.
Nodding, I reached into the pocket of my leather jacket to retrieve the flash drive containing the digital signature required to shut down the system, then inserted it into the USB port. Relief coursed through my veins when silence descended, though I couldn’t help but tug on my ear, which was still ringing.
Rocco clapped me on the shoulder. “Had me worried there for a minute.”
“Yeah.” Nervous laughter rose from my chest. “Not sure—”
I never got a chance to finish that sentence because a high-pitched beeping, even louder than the earlier alarm sound, cut me off.
Panic rose to the surface as it finally sank in that being locked out of the warehouse wasn’t Matteo pulling a prank, getting back at me for running from my problems instead of facing them head-on. No, something was very wrong here.
And if things weren’t already bad enough, we were suddenly bathed in the glow of red and blue flashing lights.
I cursed low under my breath. “Motherfucker.” The cops had snuck up on us, their sirens having been drowned out by the ear-splitting electronic squawking that reverberated through my skull.
When I turned around, I found four police vehicles boxing in our trucks. And through a cruiser-mounted loudspeaker, one of the officers spoke. “Put your hands in the air and turn around slowly.”
This was complete bullshit. We owned this building, and they were about to arrest us for trespassing with the intent to break and enter due to a malfunctioning security system.
It’s not like I’d never been fitted with handcuffs before. That wasn’t the issue. The charges never stuck.
No, my primary concern was that the millions of dollars’ worth of guns that would be seized while I was dragged downtown and questioned, before Commissioner Logan did whatever it was he always did behind the scenes that would have me released before dawn.
A thought struck. Maybe if these guys knew who I was—that I was married to their boss’s daughter—we might be able to pump the brakes on this whole cops-and-robbers routine and have a conversation where I could explain that this was all a big misunderstanding.
Without thinking, I reached for my wallet.
