Page 23 of Wicked Love
“It was just a few minutes ago. They said… something about the delivery being moved up. That the market should be prepared for it. I don’t remember exactly. I was thrown off by the whole thing.”
“It would have been helpful if you’d paid more attention. Did you recognize the voice?”
“Of course not! I’ve never talked to them before. It was a woman—that’s all I know about it. She didn’t give a name, obviously.” The manager let out a huff.
The other man’s voice turned even flatter. “You don’t seem to have very much information to go on.”
“That’s because this isn’t my thing, Sharply,” the manager snapped. “You’re supposed to handle all this shit. You need to talk with them and sort it out. And tell them you’re the one they deal with, not me. I’ve got a business to run here.”
“So do we. But I’ll look into it. Go back to your spreadsheets and order forms, and you’ll hear if anything needs to change on your end.”
The other man sounded almost bored by the exchange, but the manager was so flustered I knew it was a big deal. These ‘special deliveries’ couldn’t be legal, right?
The call cut off with a crackle, but Beckett was grinning. His fingers clattered over the keyboard before he clapped his hands together in satisfaction. “I got the number for the outgoing call. We’re going to track this bastard down—Sharply, it sounds like his name is.”
A fitting name for someone who killed people. But who knew if this was the kingpin or one more step up a long ladder. The people we were up against seemed to deal in all kinds of layers of subterfuge.
It got us closer to answers, though. “Sharply isn’t a common name,” I pointed out, my spirits lifting a little. “That should make it easier to narrow down who it was.”
“Let’s hope so. It could be an alias—but even that will be useful with my connections.” Beckett pulled out his phone. “I’ll pass the information on to my own tech team to see where it takes them. We should be able to follow this thread to whoever’s in charge.”
He didn’t think the Sharply guy was, then. I guessed it wouldn’t make much sense for a criminal mastermind to be the contact person for store managers at their front operations.
But the farther we worked our way up the chain of operations, the closer we’d get to the people who were truly responsible for destroying my family—and attempting to destroy Beckett as well.
He must have sent a text to our driver too, because a moment later, the man in the false uniform returned to the driver’s seat. Without a word, he started the engine and pulled out of the alley behind the market.
I rested my hands on the warm leather on either side of me. “Where are we going now? I have the whole morning—are there other ways we can prod information out of these people?”
“I think we’ve covered all the ground we can for the moment,” Beckett said, and hesitated, holding my gaze. “But I was hoping we didn’t have to end things for today like this. There’s something I’d like to show you.”
I tensed automatically, but there was nothing about the suggestion to provoke any concern. Beckett’s expression remained mild if hopeful. He’d stayed on the other side of the van the entire time.
I bit my bottom lip. “What would you be showing me?”
“I’d rather it was a surprise. I don’t think it’ll mean much until you’re seeing it. But if you’re uncomfortable, I can drop you back off by the theater instead. It’s up to you. I realize you might not fully trust me still.”
He wasn’t pressuring me. He’d been giving me plenty of space all along. And he’d kept his word in everything he’d said he’d do so far, including letting me have a hand in tracking down Dad’s killer today.
If I didn’t give Beckett the chance to show whether he was worthy of more trust, how would I ever know whether we could rebuild what we’d once had?
I wavered for a second longer and then said, “I trust you enough to come along for the ride. Let’s see this thing.”
CHAPTERELEVEN
Madelyn
The van pulled to a stop outside a large building that was all gleaming glass and steel. Beckett opened one of the back doors and offered his hand to me to help me step out.
When he shut the door with a thump, the engine thrummed and the driver set off again. I wondered what instructions Beckett had given him.
Through the broad front windows, I could see that the rooms at the front of the building were empty, no furniture or decoration. As Beckett motioned for me to follow him up the front walk, I glanced over at him. “What is this place?”
“Part of my family business. I wanted to show you around.”
He fit a key into the double doors and tugged the door open. I hesitated for a second before walking inside.
Light streamed down all through the entrance way from skylights high in the arched ceiling. A set of escalators that weren’t yet running led up to the second floor, while a plaza with marble tiles and sleek columns stretched out beyond them, with windowed commercial spaces on both sides. A few already had signs mounted over their entrances.
