32. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
Zane
I heave another dusty box onto the growing pile in the living room, my muscles protesting after hours of hauling junk up from the basement. The safe house's musty underground has become my personal version of hell today. Who knew one basement could hold so much history?
A cloud of dust explodes as I drop the latest box, making me sneeze. "Shit." I itch my nose with the back of my hand, leaving a grimy streak across my skin. My white T-shirt is now more gray than white, and my suspenders are hanging loose at my hips.
The basement stairs creak under my boots as I head back down. The bare bulb swinging overhead casts weird shadows in the corners. Dozens more boxes sit stacked against the far wall, their cardboard sides bulging with who knows what.
I grab the top one, lighter than the others. The side splits as I lift it, spilling old papers across the concrete floor. "Perfect." My voice echoes in the empty space.
Kneeling down, I gather the scattered sheets. Most are yellowed invoices and receipts from years ago, but a few photos mixed in catch my eye. One shows a younger version of Levi's father standing in front of this house, arm around a woman who must be Levi's mom. They're both smiling, no hint of the darkness that would come later.
I shove the photos back in the box without looking at any more of them. The past needs to stay buried, especially right now with everything so fucked up between me and Levi.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. Another message from Wolf about the warehouse viewing later. I ignore it like I've been ignoring Colt's texts about making peace with Levi. Some things can't be fixed with a few apologetic words.
The next box is heavier, packed with old ledgers and account books. The leather covers are cracked and faded, but the numbers inside might still mean something. I'll have to go through them later, see if any of the old business information is worth saving.
Sweat trickles down my back as I carry the box upstairs. The AC is working overtime against the September heat, but it's losing the battle. I drop the box with the others and pull my shirt off, using it to wipe my face before tossing it aside.
The final box feels different when I lift it. Metal clinks inside, and something that sounds like chains shifts. My gut tightens. This house has seen some ugly business over the years. Some things are better left undiscovered.
But I can't leave anything unchecked. Not when we're trying to make this place operational again. I set the box on an old workbench and pry open the top.
Chains, along with bundles of brittle, old zip ties, duct tape, and other restraints fill the bottom of the box. Standard equipment for our line of work, but these are old. Rusty in places. Covered in dark stains I don't want to think about too hard.
Under all that, I find a small leather case, engraved with the letters A.R . Inside is a set of knives, well-maintained despite their age. The handles are worn smooth from use. I recognize the maker's mark—same guy who crafted my favorite blade.
My phone buzzes again. Wolf, getting impatient about the warehouse. I check the time and curse. Been down here longer than I meant to be.
I close the knife case and return it to the box. Everything goes upstairs. The sorting can wait until later.
Dusting my hands off on my pants, I head for the stairs. The are more piles of boxes in the living room, patiently waiting their turn. So much history in this house, so many secrets. And now we're adding our own to the mix.
I grab a clean shirt, set the alarms and climb into my car. I check my reflection in the rearview. Still covered in dust and cobwebs, but I don’t have time to clean up.
The air conditioner blasts cold air as I pull out of the driveway. My mind drifts to Sunny, wondering if she's working tonight. We've fallen into a comforting routine of late-night diner visits and phone calls after her shifts. She's still guarded, but sometimes I catch glimpses of who she must have been before everything went wrong.
I force those thoughts away. Got enough complications without adding more. The warehouse needs checking, security systems need a final upgrade, and somewhere in all those boxes might be information we can use.
I pull up to the warehouse, spotting Wolf's black SUV already parked out front. He's leaning against the hood, cigarette dangling from his lips. His dark clothes blend into the shadows of the building, making him look more like his namesake than usual.
"Took your sweet time," Wolf drawls as I step out of my truck. He eyes my dusty appearance. "What happened to you?"
"Been clearing out the basement. Place is a damn museum." I stretch, my back cracking from all the heavy lifting. "Show me what we're working with here."
Wolf flicks his cigarette away and pulls out a ring of keys. "You're gonna love this place. Previous owners went bankrupt, but they left everything in good condition."
The metal door groans as he pushes it open. Stale air hits my face as we step inside. Wolf flips some switches, and industrial lights flicker to life overhead, revealing the massive space.
"Holy shit." I whistle, my voice echoing. The warehouse stretches far back, with high ceilings and multiple loading bays. "How many square feet?"
"Twenty thousand." Wolf's boots echo on the concrete as he walks ahead. "Got office space upstairs, security system already wired in—needs upgrading but nothing we can't handle. Loading docks can handle four trucks at once."
I run my hand along a support beam. Solid construction. "Storage capacity?"
"More than enough for what we need. Could triple our usual inventory and still have room." He gestures to the far wall. "Climate controlled section over there for the sensitive stuff."
We walk the perimeter, Wolf pointing out features while I mentally map security camera placement and access points. The location is perfect for storing and inventorying the black-market goods we deal in. It's close enough to the ports that it allows for easy transportation, but isolated and far enough away to avoid unwanted attention or suspicion.
"Levi's getting antsy," Wolf mentions casually as we check out the office space. "Wants to see things moving forward faster."
I grunt in acknowledgment. Of course he does. Levi's never been good at waiting once he sets his mind to something.
"Talked to that contact he sent me," Wolf continues. "Says if you green light this place, we can have steady shipments coming in from the ports within two weeks. Get the old operations running again, maybe even expand."
"Two weeks seems ambitious." I peer out the office window, surveying the main floor below.
"Guy's connected. Has all the right people in his pocket already." Wolf pulls out another cigarette but doesn't light it. "Just needs your okay to start moving pieces into place."
I drum my fingers on the windowsill, considering. The warehouse is perfect— almost too perfect. But we need a base of operations if we're going to rebuild what Levi's father had here.
"What's your read on the contact?" I ask Wolf.
"Solid. Did some digging—he's got history with Levi's old man. Kept his mouth shut when things went south back then. Loyalty like that's hard to find."
I nod slowly. "And the price?"
"Higher than before, but reasonable considering the risk. Plus, we get priority routing through his channels."
More pieces falling into place. Maybe too neatly, but we can't afford to be overly cautious right now. Not with Levi pushing for progress.
"Alright." I turn to face Wolf. "Lock it down. But I want our people to handle the security setup, not local contractors. And I want background on everyone involved in the shipping chain."
"Already started the checks." Wolf finally lights his cigarette. "Figured you'd want that."
"Good man." I take one last look around the office. "How soon can we get the paperwork started?"
"Can have it ready for signatures tomorrow. Previous owners are motivated sellers."
I check my phone—no new messages from Levi or Colt. They're probably buried in all the meetings and paperwork I usually handle. Or maybe they've decided to finally give me some space. Either way, this decision is on me.
"Do it," I tell Wolf. "But keep it quiet for now. Don't want anyone getting curious about why we're setting up shop here."
Wolf nods, already pulling out his phone to make calls. I head back downstairs, mind racing with plans and contingencies. Twenty thousand square feet of possibility—or twenty thousand square feet of potential problems.
The empty warehouse echoes with my footsteps as I walk the floor again. In two weeks, this place will be humming with activity. Shipments coming and going, inventory stored, money flowing. Just like the old days.
I pause at one of the loading bays, staring out at the gathering dusk. Somewhere across town, Sunny's probably getting ready for her shift at Sirens. I wonder if she'll call tonight.
Wolf's voice drifts down from the office as he makes arrangements. I push thoughts of Sunny aside and focus on the task at hand. We've got a warehouse to secure and an operation to rebuild. Everything else will have to wait.
I walk out of the warehouse, leaving Wolf to handle things. My boots crunch on loose gravel as I head toward my black Dodge Charger.
Something white catches my eye, fluttering under my windshield wiper. My steps slow. Every instinct screams danger. No one should know I'm here except Wolf.
I scan the area, noting the empty parking lot, the tall weeds and thick trees behind the building, and all of the dark corners where someone could hide. Nothing moves except plastic bags and other trash blown by the wind.
The note is plain white printer paper, folded once. No fingerprints visible on the crisp edges. "Actions Have Consequences" printed in basic Times New Roman. Professional. Clean. Threatening.
My hand moves automatically to the gun at my hip as I continue scanning. The message could mean anything, but the timing…
Someone's been watching. Waiting.
Could be about the warehouse deal. But that feels too fresh—no one outside our immediate circle knows yet. Wolf's contact testing us maybe? No—too risky, too much money on the line for them to fuck with us.
My thoughts turn to Sunny. Few people know I've been seeing her after her shifts. Jade. Benny. The security guards at Sirens. But they have no reason to threaten me. Unless...
Unless someone else found out. Someone who thinks they're protecting her. Or someone who wants to use her against us. Or…
I take a photo of the note before carefully folding it into a bag from my glove compartment. The paper feels expensive under my fingers. High-quality. The kind used in professional offices, not cheap copy shops.
Back in my car, I sit for a moment, letting scenarios play out. Could be about the safe house cleanout. Maybe there are things buried in those boxes that are supposed to stay buried. Maybe I found something I wasn't supposed to. Or this could be about splitting me, Levi and Colt up, right when we should be the most solid. Or maybe we aren't the only ones who found Sunny.
Too many possibilities. Too many enemies. And someone bold enough to walk right up to my car before the sun was even set.
I start the engine, watching my mirrors. No tail as I pull out of the lot.
I drum my fingers on my steering wheel, debating. The note sits heavy in my pocket, its message burning in my mind. "Actions Have Consequences."
My phone feels like lead as I pick it up. Colt's number stares back at me. Three weeks of avoiding his calls, and now I'm the one reaching out. Fuck.
The line rings twice before his voice bursts through, way too cheerful. "Z! Man, I was starting to think you'd fallen off the face of the earth!"
"Hey." I clear my throat, already regretting this. "Got a minute?"
"For you? I've got all day. Hold on—" There's shuffling, a door closing. "Okay, I'm alone. What's up?"
I grip the steering wheel tighter. "Something happened at the warehouse viewing. I need you and Levi to be aware."
"Warehouse viewing? The one Wolf set up?" Papers rustle in the background. "Thought that was just routine."
"It was. Until I found a note on my car after." I describe the message, the paper quality, the timing. Keep my voice neutral, just facts.
"Shit." Colt's enthusiasm dims slightly. "You think it's about the expansion? Someone trying to muscle in?"
"Could be. Could be nothing." I watch a stray cat slink past my car. "I wanted you both in the loop though."
"Want us to head back? We can—"
"No." I cut him off. "Not yet. Give me some time to figure out what we're dealing with first."
"But—"
"If we mobilize everyone now, we'll show our hand. Better to keep it quiet until we know more."
Colt sighs, and I can picture him running his hands through his blonde hair, messing it up like he always does when he's thinking. "You talked to Levi yet?"
"You're first call."
"He's gonna be pissed you waited."
"I don't care." The words come out sharper than intended.
"Z..." Colt's voice softens. "You know he's beating himself up about everything. The whole Sunny situation—"
"Don't." My knuckles go white on the wheel. "This isn't about that."
"You sure? Because—"
"It's about business. That's all." I force my grip to relax. "Keep your eyes open on your end, yeah? And tell Levi. I'm not up for that yet."
"Fine." Colt doesn't bother hiding his disappointment. "But Z? We miss you, man. Both of us."
I end the call without responding.
My mind circles back to Sunny, to late-night conversations, and to the strength it must have taken to rebuild her life from nothing.
But there's no logical connection between her and this note. None that makes sense, anyway. Better to focus on the obvious threats—rival organizations, old enemies, ghosts drifting up from the safehouse basement.
I check my mirrors again out of habit. No tail, no suspicious vehicles. Just me and my paranoid thoughts.
The note crinkles in my pocket. "Actions Have Consequences." Someone's making a move. I just don't know from what direction.