Chapter 11
Greyson, Dominic, and I were neck-deep in accounting issues at the docks when Tennessee called. “Bad news, boss. Sabine is missing.”
Of course she is.
Sabine Demuth had been on the payroll since she was a child, first as a set of ears around the city, then as a thief. After she took custody of her underage sister, we moved her to a safer position in one of our nightclubs. She’d been out of the game for years. She should’ve been safe.
Frustration soured my gut. In the weeks since my face-to-face with Cash, everything had gone wrong. Shipments were late or missing product, protected properties were getting broken in to, and favorite informants were either going underground temporarily or disappearing altogether. Grey’s network was dwindling fast, and with no way to replenish the lost eyes, we were flying blinder than ever.
“Get over to her apartment. If Brittany’s there, call Jack at the DCYF office and see if he can find space in one of our houses.”
I didn’t want to send the kid to foster care, but she’d go somewhere I could monitor her progress until we found her sister. In all likelihood, if Sabine left town, they’d be together, so that was what I hoped for.
Tennessee grunted an agreement. “I’ll call you after I check their place.”
The call dropped, and I turned back to the dockmaster. “Apologies for the interruption, Micah. Can you say that again?”
Micah Fitzgerald looked like the epitome of Santa, with plump, rosy cheeks and a white beard to match, but even at sixty-five, the man was still thick with muscle. The authority he’d wielded as a staff sergeant in the Marines worked well in his position. Micah kept my business running and his men in line and loyal to the family. He was invaluable.
He waved at the papers littering his desk. “Porter’s accounts are all wrong. Nothing too major, but there hasn’t been an even drop in months.”
René Porter was a low-level importer, focusing on things like absinthe and fur and game trophies. Essentially, he sold whatever he thought looked interesting. His needs were never consistent, but since we just handled the logistics of shipping, it didn’t matter to me what he brought in. As long as he played by my rules and didn’t bring heat into the city.
“How is that possible? Shouldn’t Grey have been notified after the first drop was short?” Dominic asked from my side.
He’d taken to underboss swimmingly and already had a good grasp of our systems and businesses, but our clients and men were slow to trust.
Micah directed his answer to me. “The drops aren’t short. They’re over.”
Shorts and overages weren’t uncommon. Humans made mistakes, but human error was calculated into the approximate total before clients received their shipments. I never wanted to be on the line for someone’s missing product. But extras of that magnitude were unheard of.
I lifted the manifests from the last month and looked over the numbers. They seemed okay, but I passed them to Grey. Knowing he had the better memory for numbers, I refocused on Micah. “These overages are past the error margin?”
“Every single one.”
“Where is the excess coming from?” Grey asked, making notes on his tablet as he read.
“No clue. The shit Porter’s into isn’t on any other manifests, and his shipments are over before they arrive. I’d assume it’s whoever he gets his product from, but their logs show the expected amount. Somewhere between them and us, he’s getting extras.”
I bit my lip. Where were the overages coming from, and who was paying for them? If it were any other time, I’d say it was a coincidence, but there was no way Cash wasn’t behind it. I just didn’t know how.
I turned to Grey, looking at his forehead instead of his eyes. Ever since opening night, I hadn’t been able to look at him. Not directly. He’d given me space, but I knew time was running out. I had to tell him, get everything in the open.
Just not yet.
“We need a full audit. Every income stream. Call Harris and get them on it. We need to figure out if there’s a cash leak and where.”
Grey nodded, looking away quickly, as if I wouldn’t see the pain in his face. I was hurting him and didn’t know how to stop without destroying what fragile threads we had left. Not for the first time, I wondered if the chasm we balanced on was filled with secrets that would see us drowned.
Dominic cleared his throat. “You said this has been going on the last few months?”
“At least three,” Micah answered.
“That you know of. What if he’s been doing this longer, and we just didn’t realize it because we weren’t looking?”
Grey looked up from his tablet. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we don’t pay attention to human error. It’s an assumed loss, and so long as the shipments fall within that limit, it’s ignored. We’re only focusing on Porter now because the logs are clearly showing a discrepancy.”
“You think the shipments have been messed with for a while without our knowing.” And we only knew now because Cash wanted us to. He was fucking with us.
“Are you insinuating…?” We all turned to Micah.
I held up a hand. “No one is blaming you or accusing you of anything. We all know you’re the best person for this job, and you do it flawlessly. But people are weak.”
“You think one of my men flipped?” He glared at Dominic, who glared right back.
“I think that finding a single person to bribe on a crew as big as yours isn’t as hard as you’d think. There’s always someone who needs something enough to give up their secrets.”
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. “We need an accounting of the last three months of manifests and orders, and a short list of potential suspects.”
Dominic made a noise, Grey shifted in his seat, and I rolled my eyes at both of them. “Make that the last six months.” They both nodded, and I choked down my laughter. At least they agreed on something.
Micah scuffed a hand through his beard. The dock records were meticulously doctored in-house, so none of the manifests were on our servers. He’d have to manually find and sort them all. “It’ll take me a day or so for all of it since we’ve got an arrival later. Are we pausing deliveries until we get this sorted?”
No part of me wanted deliveries going out, but the cost of delaying them—and the shit-fit my clients would throw—made the decision for me. “No. We keep going as usual. Keep an eye on the error margins, though.”
With his promise to drop things off as soon as possible, we thanked Micah and headed back to the SUV. Even Dominic, who received a cool but cordial goodbye. Progress.
Geneva opened the back door, and I slid into the last row, letting the guys have the bucket seats in front of me. Grey had insisted we use bombproof SUVs after meeting Cash, and I wasn’t willing to argue.
Rapping my fingers against the cupholder, I talked through my thoughts as we pulled away. “We’ll need to figure out who was working those shipments. I know Micah’s got a trusted group of men, but maybe there’s a pattern there. Someone working less and earning more.”
Grey nodded, taking down more notes in his tablet with one hand and texting with the other. “I’ve got Harris adding staff to the audit. Moore and Tennessee will do background checks when it’s done.”
“What about the other businesses?” Dominic asked.
“I have access to everyone else’s accounting and data tracking tech. I’ll pull the records and send them directly to the auditors.” Grey paused what he was doing and looked up. “I don’t think we’ve gotten Gilded set up with that yet. I was supposed to, but things have been crazy.”
“Let’s stop by since we’re already out.” It wasn’t exactly a hardship. Nate had been on my mind since opening night, even though I hadn’t seen him since. Despite being sure that this trip would be no different, something compelled me to go. “Geneva?”
“Already on it, boss.” She flipped the SUV around, and we were off.
* * *
I was two steps into Gilded when the blur of a body rushed me.
“Fuck,” Dominic bit out, reaching for his gun. We’d left Tennessee and Moore outside to touch base with security.
“Don’t!” Grey and I shouted. My body locked tight as the impact nearly staggered me. Only Grey’s hands on my hips kept me upright, even as the three of us slammed into the wall. I distantly reminded myself not to think about his arms around me. “Shara, you’re squishing us.”
Shara Maury was a former cage dancer, a wicked bartender, and the general manager of Gilded. She was also one of my only friends, though that was thanks to being Antoni’s longtime love.
I adored her.
“Well, whose fault is that?” she snapped. “You don’t write, you don’t call. I thought I’d have to resort to carrier pigeons soon.”
The edge of worry cut through her dramatics. The last time a Marcosa fell off the face of the earth, we’d buried him.
Shit.
I hunched over her smaller frame, the scent of castor oil and cocoa butter surrounding us as I buried my face into her locs. She must’ve gotten them retwisted for opening night, and I wished I’d gotten a chance to see her. It’d been ages since we’d had time to text, let alone talk, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed her. “I’m sorry I haven’t been by.”
“Or texted.”
“Or texted,” I agreed.
“You’re forgiven.”
We separated, and I saw the exhaustion written all over her. Her deep-brown skin still looked radiant, her matching eyes were bright, but something about the way she stood spoke of responsibilities weighing on her. I could relate. “What about you? You’ve been so busy. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re sleeping here.”
She snorted. “I wish. My apartment’s too small.”
My face split into a grin, and Grey huffed a laugh, sweeping her into a hug too. Shara lived in a luxury two-story penthouse in one of our high-rises with more space than most single-family homes in the suburbs.
Free again, Shara threaded her arm through mine as she looked Dominic over. “He looks like your type, babe.”
He grinned. “I like her already.”
Grey rolled his eyes. “Don’t. She’ll gut you quicker than Mari on her worst day.”
Shara tipped her head in acknowledgment. “True.”
Dominic didn’t seem too nervous, but I figured that came with time. “How long have you known these two?”
“A decade. Maybe more?” She looked at me like I’d know, but I shrugged. I couldn’t really remember a time when she hadn’t been around, the big sister I’d always wanted.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember you.”
“Funny, I don’t remember you either. Must not be too important,” she tossed over her shoulder, dragging me toward the bar. “Who is he?”
“Dominic.”
Her steps faltered, but she found her footing quickly. “Ah.”
“Yeah. Ah.”
Angel that she was, Shara changed the subject. “I assume this pop-by isn’t for a chat.”
“Grey needs to get the accounting software sorted.”
She hugged him before he disappeared into the offices. “Thank god. The backlog’s been stressing me out.”
“You should have called.” I didn’t want to reprimand her, but she had a hard time remembering that she didn’t have to do everything alone. I could practically hear Grey thinking, Just like you.
Finally alone, Shara knocked my shoulder with hers. “Are you and Greyson okay?”
No. “I don’t know.”I blew out a long breath. There was so much to explain, I didn’t know where to start. “Girls’ night soon?”
She watched me, knowing I was copping out. “Sure, babe. Girls’ night.”
I glanced around the room and found my eyes drawn to pale blond hair and a pair of bright-blue eyes.
Nate.
Damn. The uniform’s deep maroon shirt sleeves were rolled up, showcasing a set of really nice forearms. Thanks to the color, he looked tanner, like a surfer boy on a date. It worked for him. For me, too.
Reining myself in, I asked, “What do you think about him?”
Shara swiveled on her stool to see who I was looking at. “Black? Good kid. Hard worker. Easy on the eyes too.”
Jealousy swamped me, and the deep breath I took wasn’t enough to get rid of it. “You interested?”
Shara hadn’t dated since Antoni died. Not seriously. If she wanted Nate, I knew I’d back off, even if I hated it.
Shara laid a hand over mine, squeezing until I looked up. The light glinted off the chain around her neck and my mother’s engagement ring, the one Antoni had given her three months before he died. Even though she didn’t wear it on her finger anymore, she never took it off. My brother had been devoted to her, and I appreciated that even though she was trying to move on, she kept him close. “Nate’s great, but he’s not my type. Are you? Interested, I mean.”
“No.” Yes.
I should’ve known better than to lie to Shara. Her face split into a toothy grin, and I sagged as she laughed at me. Didn’t even have to say anything.
“He’s just… He’s different.” There was no other way to explain it. When he looked at me, I felt like he could see inside me to the person I’d always tried to be. Where everyone saw Marianna Marcosa, he just saw Mari. It was addictive.
Shara hummed, tapping her fingers on the counter. “I think you should go for it.”
“He’s an employee.”
“And? You’re not his direct boss. Besides, maybe it’ll kick Greyson’s ass in gear.”
“Shara,” I warned. She held up her hands in surrender, and for a moment, I let myself be vulnerable. “What if he doesn’t want me? I mean, who wants to date a made woman?”
“Then that’s his loss. You’re incredible. Now, go get him.”
I didn’t want to, but being practically shoved off the barstool meant I had no choice. Nate was still at the other end of the bar, prepping limes. He didn’t even look up as I stopped in front of him. “How are you, Nate?”
“Fine.”
Fine? What kind of answer is fine? “Shara says you’re doing really well. Says you’re a natural.”
“She’s a great boss.”
“She is.” I nodded. “No more trouble since opening night?”
“None.”
Silence again. Okay, this is painfully awkward.
I took a breath, reminding myself that he was just a man. Be brave, Mari. “Nate, I?—”
He set the knife down sharply and looked at me. Eyes that had always been warm were cold for the first time, and I hated it. Nate was looking through me like I didn’t exist. “Look, Mari, you seem great. Really. But whatever you think is happening here, isn’t. Not only are you my boss’s boss’s boss, but you’re also…”
He cringed. He didn’t even have to say it. A kingpin. A murderer. A criminal.
A Marcosa.
I could feel that little piece of me that he’d unearthed disappear again. I should’ve known better. To Nate and everyone else in our world, I was never going to be just Mari. I would always be the ruler of Seattle. I’d been stupid to assume he’d think anything different.
He ruffled his hair, shifted on his feet when I didn’t answer. “I’m sorry?—”
“Don’t be. You’re right.” Did my voice sound flat to him too? The way he looked at me, I assumed so.
“Am I fired?”
It was a nausea-inducing reminder that Nate didn’t know me, and he never would. I spoke calmly, albeit through my teeth. “I don’t fire people who don’t want to be with me. I’m not a fucking predator.”
“I didn’t mean?—”
“Your job is safe, and so are you.”
“Mari…” I waited for him to say something, but he just walked away, leaving my chest hollow.
For someone I barely knew, Nate’s rejection stung. His reasons were sound, but he was also one of the first men I’d ever actually wanted more than a night from. I wanted to get to know him and to have him get to know me. The real me.
And he didn’t want me back.
I knew the disappointment was all temporary, but fuck, I was tired. Exhausted. Something had to change.
“Mari…” Shara’s voice was hesitant, and I could hear the pity.
“Don’t.” I dropped a kiss on her cheek and headed for the door. I needed a second alone. “Send Grey out when he’s done.”
I’d been running nonstop for months, and I needed a reprieve. A moment to breathe. A fucking break. When was the last time I’d let loose and enjoyed a night off? Lost myself in the feel of another person’s body? Hell, when was the last time I’d had an orgasm that wasn’t a quickie in the shower?
I didn’t know the answer to any of it, and that was a problem.
Dominic was the first to find me in the car after ten minutes of quiet breathing. “You okay?”
“Just needed a break.”
He hummed and looked me over. “Need something else, mariposa?”
A sharp bark of laughter tore through me, and I was asking before I’d thought it all through. “A night out to dance my stress away. You interested?”
Dominic scuffed the stubble on his jawline, never looking away. “A whole night with your body pressed to mine? Yeah, I’m interested.”