Page 41 of Hook

He nods slowly, understanding what I’m implying. “Yes sir,” he replies hesitantly, tapping away at the computer. “Let me access it for you.”

I walk over to stand behind his desk, making him infinitely more nervous, while he brings up the footage of the dates we had shipments hit.

“This is weird,” he says, shaking his head. “It appears someone has deleted the footage.”

“What?” I snap. Someone had access to the computer system and must have known exactly what they were doing—erasing evidence that could lead back to them.

So not only did this person betray me, but they had enough skill and knowledge to cover their tracks as well.

“Do you know which of my men have access to your computer systems?” I ask, my voice tight with anger.

The dock-master swallows hard and gives me a list of five names: Salazar Johnson, Tim O’Malley, Alex Carter, Tom Delaney and Oliver Wilcox. I don’t miss the fact that Tim is on the list, and Smyth mentioned that he’s been acting off. And I’m thankful that Smyth’s name isn’t on the list, as it means I can rule him out as a potential suspect.

Even so, it means one of these fuckers is involved in selling me out and stealing for the organization, and that fucking detective better find out who is it sharp. Or I’ll murder all five of these idiots and be done with it.

“I want you to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary with the next few shipments, and as soon as another one gets stolen, make a copy of the CCTV footage.”

The dockmaster nods. “Yes, sir. I’ll be vigilant about that.”

“Good,” I say, running a hand across the back of my neck. “Because if those fuckers keep stealing my shipments, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

His eyes dilate with fear. I don’t have boundaries when it comes to torture. Most would say I delight in it.

I know that I can’t entirely attribute that part of me to Piero’s betrayal. I’ve been unhinged for longer than that, ever since I was a child, and lost my fucking hand. There’s been this violence inside me that has a life of its own. An inherent part of me that will never be erased.

I point my hook in his direction, struggling to contain the glee as he shudders. “You don’t want to be on the wrong end of my hook, do you?”

He shakes his head. “Certainly not.”

A tense silence fills the air as I watch him shudder in fear. “How is she?” I ask.

The dockmaster’s brow furrows before he realizes I’m talking about my boat.

Poison.

It’s been three months since the engine blew on it, and since I’ve been confined to land for that time, it’s driving me more crazy than normal.

“The mechanic thinks he can get her up and running in a week or two.”

I slam my hand on the nearby cabinet. “That’s what you said three weeks ago.”

His throat bobs as he swallows. “I apologize, but there’s been trouble sourcing the parts for it.”

“I told you to get it done. Fuck the cost. Do you understand?” I move closer to the desk and slam my hook on it. “If you have to pay a million fucking dollars for the part, so be it. I need that boat in one week or there will be hell to pay.”

His entire body quivers. “Yes, understood. I’ll get it sorted within a week, I promise.”

The guy is a sniveling excuse of a man, but if he does get me my boat, I don’t give a shit. I need to get back on the water.

“Good. Questions?”

He shakes his head.

“I didn’t think so.” I turn and walk out of his office, leaving him a shivering in terror as he considers what I’d do to him if he doesn’t get my boat ready. I’ll gut him with my hook and make him watch while I feed his guts to the crocodiles at the zoo as he dies a slow and painful death.

15

GWENDOLYNE

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