17. Lying With The Truth
17
LYING WITH THE TRUTH
Julia tells me to meet her at the marina.
Her flat text response when I let her know I was fired offered no clues, but I have every reason to believe she won’t be the only member of my greeting party.
As I near the ocean, my already heightened nerves take a more visceral direction. Crystal water reflects the afternoon sun to form flickering blue glass that stretches toward the horizon. Birds swoop and chatter among the docked boats, while a warm breeze washes sticky ocean brine through my nostrils and coats my skin.
Someone once told me the ocean is a rare gift that engages all five senses, even from afar.
That same trait makes it a curse for someone terrified of it.
I ignore the flood of adrenaline as I search the marina for any sign of Julia or other members of the family. A small run-down building nestled at the apex of multiple docks screams of purpose, and I start toward it. Two silhouettes behind the grimy glass window confirm my suspicion that if Julia is here, she’s not alone.
I brace for my next performance as I approach the open door.
“Julia?” I poke my head through the opening.
Her intimate smile when she sees me lodges in my chest. It quickly flattens back into stern resolve.
“Hey, Shaw. Come in.”
I nod to Adrian, the owner of the other silhouette I saw. “I’ll get Mama H,” he says.
Through the other window, I spot the older woman huddled in the shadows outside the building. Her demeanor is stiff as she discusses something with a man I don’t recognize. The stranger projects the menacing aura of a cartel member, although his affiliations aren’t immediately obvious.
“You okay?” Julia asks once we’re alone.
“Fine.”
“I’m sorry you were fired. Did they hurt you?”
“No.”
Her relief makes every scar on my body burn through my clothes.
Adrian interrupts Mama H’s meeting, and she shoots a look in our direction before returning her attention to the man.
I flinch at sudden pressure on my hand and glance down to find Julia’s fingers lightly clasping mine.
“Just tell her the truth and you’ll be okay.”
I nod, wishing that were true. I know what happens to people when they’re not useful. Merrick’s warning hasn’t left my head since I left his suite.
“So you got yourself fired,” Mama H says as she ducks into the office.
Julia releases my hand, and I straighten to face her mother.
“They caught me trying to contact Hana. Apparently, the executive chef is very particular about who he allows in his kitchen. I don’t think they suspect anything or I doubt they would have let me go with just a pink slip.”
Although I considered several lies on my journey back to Undertow, I landed on the one closest to the truth. If Tyler does follow up with “his source,” at least my story will resemble the rumors.
Tension sucks the air from the stifling room as Mama H searches my face.
“You got your paperwork?” she asks finally.
I nod and fish my phone from my pocket. After pulling up the severance letter in my email, I hand the phone to her. She skims the document, and my shoulders ease when hers do. She hands the phone back to me with a curse.
“So you didn’t learn anything about the RLC?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
Mama H swears again and squints through the window at the ocean beyond.
“Okay, well, while you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful. Ricardo just docked. You and Julia can help him unload. Adrian, you’re with me.”
A shadow passes over Adrian’s face as he glances at me. It’s not suspicion, but it isn’t exactly sympathy either. I’ll have to be more careful with him.
“Well, at least you’ll get to spend more time with me now,” Julia says with a teasing glint once we’re alone.
I step closer, resting a hand on her hip. “Careful, or people will think I got fired on purpose.”
Her chest moves with a quick breath that steals my own. My focus locks on a tantalizing bead of sweat that slides between her breasts.
“We only have a minute before we have to help Ricardo,” she whispers.
I slide my palm up her side, loving how she melts into my touch. “I can do a lot with a minute.”
Her tempting lips tip up as her eyelids lower. “Is that so?”
The sweet smile becomes a gasp when I press into her, forcing her against the desk. Her tongue skims her lips as her hungry gaze fixes on mine. Everything in me wants to steal a kiss I haven’t earned. This casual moment isn’t part of the plan. But then, nothing about Julia Hartford is part of the plan except her name.
Just a small taste.
My lips brush hers. A spark on dry kindling, and her mouth parts to seek more. Our breaths fuse as her hands slide up my arms in an expectant grip. It feels so good to breathe her in. A sweet reprieve from the ocean air I hate.
“Hey, we doing this or what?” an impatient voice barks from the door.
Julia stiffens and ducks away from me.
“Ricardo, hi.”
The man returns a tight smile before nodding in my direction. “Who’s this?”
“New to the family. He’s good.”
My conditioned awareness for danger takes over as I scan the stranger.
“Yeah? Who says he’s good? I didn’t say he was good.”
I maintain a neutral expression, fighting my instincts to engage. Even if this is the Hartford family secret I’ve been waiting for, I can only participate as an innocent bystander.
“Relax, Ricky. I said he’s good. When’s the last time I brought someone in?”
The man’s wary stare slides from me to her. “Never.”
“Exactly. We doing this or what?”
The smallest smile cracks his grim expression at her echoed response. His gaze snaps back to me, and I meet it with a direct look.
After several long seconds, he mumbles a curse in Spanish. “Eight bags. Same slip as always.”
Julia nods. “We’ll take our cut and have the rest for you in a week.”
“A week? So they didn’t talk to you yet.”
“Talk to me about what?”
“Renegotiating.”
Julia’s eyes narrow as she crosses her arms. “Renegotiate? Why the hell are they renegotiating?”
Ricardo shrugs. “Hey, don’t get pissy with me. Not my call.”
“Cut the shit. You know something. What’s going on?”
Ricardo’s gaze flickers to me again. “Do we have to do this with him here?”
“Yes.”
He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Fine. You can’t clean it fast enough. Business is booming and you’re not keeping up.”
Julia goes rigid, her hard stare slicing into him. “Are you fucking with me, Ricky?”
“Nah, man. It’s true. Look, we like you guys. You do good work, but this”—he waves around the room— “ain’t gonna cut it anymore. You can’t move what we need through this shithole without raising eyebrows… no offense.”
Julia’s fingertips bite into her crossed arms. “Who’s replacing us?”
“Hey, I didn’t say anything about?—”
“Who’s getting the contract, Ricky?!” she barks.
He shrinks, and it’s an interesting sight watching a hardened criminal cower from a five-foot-five woman half his size.
She steps closer with a menacing look when he hesitates. “I swear to god, if you say the McArthurs…”
His anxious stare darts to the window before sliding back to her.
“You have to be fucking kidding me!” Julia throws up her hands. “The McArthurs? Are you serious right now, Ricardo?”
He shrugs. “I told you, not my call. But, come on. Look around you, sweetheart. You can’t clean my nephew’s candy racket, let alone what La Quinta Muerte needs.”
La Quinta Muerte? Fuck. That’s who the Hartfords are cleaning for?
No wonder the McArthurs want this island for themselves. That also explains why they’re so desperate for an alliance with the RLC. This shithole of an island is the key to unlocking an entire continent for the McArthurs.
“Well, I don’t know who’s been lying through their ass to get your business, but someone has,” Julia says.
Ricardo’s expression darkens. “What do you mean?”
“ Look around you, ” Julia mocks, repeating the same words and gesture he did a moment ago. “Who owns the marina? The bridge? The beaches? Have you been to the McArthur side of the island? Maybe take a look on your way out and tell me how you plan to get your millions in and out? He can’t even access his own shit without going through us. How the hell is he going to handle yours? Tell your people to do some more fucking research before they negotiate. ”
Julia leans back with a satisfied expression while my blood goes cold.
I’m frozen in time.
Scattered pieces of the puzzle snap into place.
The RLC, this entire mission from the McArthurs, every dirty detail of the last couple of years sloshes in my stomach like sludge.
It all comes together in a sickening picture.
“They’re lying to you, Ricardo,” Julia warns. “It’s what the McArthurs do.”
Except they’re not lying. Not this time. Montgomery McArthur has every intention of keeping his promise to La Quinta Muerte. That’s what this is about. And his timeline to rid the island of the Hartford’s must be shorter than I thought.
Julia is oblivious to the looming threat as she stalks toward the door. “Thanks for the heads up. Let’s get you unloaded. You coming, Shaw?”
I nod and force my limbs to move through a thick coating of dread. Ricardo’s brown eyes bore into me as I pass, daring me to start something. What, I’m not sure, but he’ll never know how helpful he’s been.
Then again, very soon he probably will.