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I shoot off a text to Smith.
Eyes on Dale?
That’s your job, he texts back. But no. We’re still trying to get into the office on the dock. Got the feed?
Yep.
Grant isn’t happy having someone in his home, Smith texts back.
Grant can suck the big one.
I’ll speak to him. I click send.
Been checking into the foreman, he’s clean.
“Well,” I mutter. “I didn’t think he’d be a criminal.”
Not in that way, at least, but the book’s on my mind, because I can see him scribbling something down. It’s not every time. That goes on the iPad. The book only comes out on certain shipments, and I really, really want to get a look at it. Might be nothing. Could be something. And it’s the could be something that has my attention.
Thanks, I text.
Will keep digging. Anything new on your end?
Tonight, at the poker game, the guy who came in and watched for a while, then looked at Scarlett… eyed her. Not in a sexual way. It was weird, and I had to focus on the game and conversation around me, but I have no idea if she knew him, as in had seen him before or what. I make a note to ask her.
But I keep that to myself for now, until I get more information that might be useful.
It’s the problem with fucking a mark. Or fucking her. Dammit, she’s so in my blood, I let that slip. I should have pushed harder in the car after undoing her with the threat of giving her up as a party favor.
Not sure, I text. Some things to check into.
I tap my pen against the notebook I have out. I need to speak to Grant, give him a push. If his brother’s MIA for now, it stops me from sitting him down. I don’t want to pull that card yet.
My anger is not usually so out of control, but when something unexpected, like the person who ripped apart your family unexpectedly drops in your lap, someone you vowed to make suffer, anger becomes a raging fucking brushfire. But it’s coming. A talk with him is coming.
After I push Grant.
Because he’s the most desperate. He roped Scarlett into reaching out to me when his attempt failed.
And now someone’s threatening his daughter.
I think back to Smith’s text about Grant. Interesting that he doesn’t like the fact that we have security at his place. Maybe he doesn’t want criminals or shady people around his kid. Could be that. Or it could be he’s also been up to no good like his brother.
Someone has been up to no good. And it stands to reason it’s Dale. He doesn’t want help. Neither will give up the client list. I do understand that, it’s not helpful, but I understand. They work on the edge of crime; they move illegal shit. Illegal shit where they practice plausible deniability by not using names, but codes and numbers that I still need to crack.
I need to get the list, and I know it’s in one of their houses or at the docks.
Shit, maybe it’s even with the foreman.
But the plausible deniability thing also protects clients. Allows them to take on competing businesses.
My client wants the list to check out what the competition is up to. See what dirt they can get. And that’s their goddamn right.
I want that fucking list so I can kill Scarlett’s fuck of a father.
And kill whatever’s brewing between us, too.
A casualty of war.
