Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
“Cocaine,” I said.
“How did you know?” she asked, brows pinched.
“Because cartels like to ship cocaine in coffee. The scent can throw off drug-sniffing dogs.”
“Oh,” she said, shaking her head. “Well, yeah. That’s what it ended up being. And there was one in each container of coffee. I looked up the math. It was something like half a million dollars’ worth.”
“Then what?” I asked, figuring actual cartel members had to come into play eventually.
“Then I got a call at the shop. Like maybe they knew I was there and that I’d found the drugs,” she said. “The voice was all funny. Like they used one of those apps to change it. And they gave me an address to drop the drugs.”
“Where?” I asked.
“A parking lot behind an abandoned building. There was an old library book drop-off box there. A key was under it, like I was told. I unlocked it with the key and put the drugs inside. Then locked it up and left. And prayed to God that it was a one-time thing.”
I could see her with a granny grip on the wheel, her heart in her throat, sure a cop was going to pull her over while she was carrying twenty or more kilos of cocaine in her truck. Then watching over her shoulder as she loaded it into the box, worried again about the cops, but also the cartel men who were surely watching from somewhere.
“But it wasn’t a one-time thing,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee as she tapped her fingers on her mug.
“No, it wasn’t. It’s been going on ever since. Which was why I was antsy the night I closed early. I knew I had to grab my shipment and then drop it off without looking suspicious or drawing the attention of the cops in any way.”
That made perfect sense.
“What happened then? What went wrong?”
She swallowed hard before answering.
“Someone else picked up my shipment.”
“Fuck,” I hissed.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t one of them?” I asked.
“It was a woman. Or, at least, it looked like a woman. With a light purple wig.”
“Like your hair before you changed it,” I said, looking at her multicolors.
“Yes. She was really close to how I look. If I didn’t know it wasn’t me, I’d likely be fooled. The guys at the freight pick-up sure were. Told me there was nothing they could do. So here I am. In debt to a cartel for about half a million dollars, just waiting to be picked up, tortured, and murdered.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” I said.
“Um, I’m pretty sure it is,” she said. “I’ve considered running. But I don’t have that kind of money.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” I told her. “I’ll help you,” I added.
“Help me… what?” she asked, shaking her head. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“Don’t be so sure about it. Which dock was it? The one here?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“Damn.”
“What?” she asked, brows pinching.
“If it was these docks, that would make life easier. They’re run by the local mafia family. The Grassis. They’re… friendly with my family. I could have gotten access to their cameras. And they have a fuckton of them.”
“Oh, that’s… news,” she said, eyes a little round.
It wasn’t surprising that it was new information for her.
In general, most people in Navesink Bank didn’t know exactly how many criminal enterprises there were around.
The Navesink Bank Henchmen, a crew of bikers who ran guns.
The Grassi mafia.
The Mallick family, who were loan sharks and enforcers.
There was the paramilitary operation up on the hill.
Then there were the dozen or more independent crews.
My old man was an enforcer for hire almost all of my life, only slowing down more recently.
“It was the smaller dock about an hour from here. I don’t know why, but that was where the shipment had to come in to.”
“Probably something to do with the cartel. Alright. I’ll get on this for you,” I told her.
“Get on it… how?”
“First, I can get the feed from those cameras at the docks. Maybe get a plate. Then follow that to an owner. If they’re stupid enough not to have fake plates, that is.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, you… do that,” she said. “But even if you could figure that out—“
“And then, armed with that information, I will set up a meeting with you and A.”
“A?” she asked.
“Andrés Alcazar. He’s the leader of the cartel in Navesink Bank. Relax,” I said as she opened her mouth to say something. “He’s not going to hurt you.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Because I know him. Somewhat. And because I’ll be there. And I won’t let it happen.”
“I know you’re, you know, big and strong and all of that,” she said, looking down me like she was remembering what I looked like without my shirt on. “But I doubt a hacker is going to stop a cartel leader from hurting me.”