“Want me to tell Hazel you said hi next time I see her?”
I kept walking.
“Want me to give her your number?”
“Fuck off, Taco,” I called.
“Maybe buy her some jam?”
I flipped him off over my shoulder.
Their laughter followed me down the hallway.
Assholes.
Every fucking one of them.
I walked into the office and kicked the door shut behind me. I dropped into the chair behind the desk and set my coffee down.
Paperwork covered half the desk.
Grave Casket orders.
Shipping manifests.
Invoices.
A list Bull had put together of every shipment we’d sent through Milwaukee over the last six months.
That was what I needed to be thinking about.
Not Hazel.
Owen Mercer, the transfer facility, the gun shipments, and the man Eli claimed he’d watched put a bullet in Owen’s chest.
That was shit that mattered.
I pulled Bull’s list closer.
We had pieces, but none of them fit together yet.
My phone vibrated and I grabbed it from my pocket.
Unknown number.
I knew exactly who it was and answered.
“Yeah.”
“It’s Eli.” He sounded just as nervous as he had before.
“You finally ready to talk?”
“I already talked.”
“Face-to-face.”
Silence. I waited.