Page 81 of Their Princess

Nothing.

Only the bustle of the dock workers.

I exhaled a deep breath, trying to settle my racing heart.

Not a war zone, Rafe, I told myself as I blinked rapidly, fireworks going off in my mind’s eye with each eyelid flutter.

My chest heaved, but I stood straighter outside the remains of a warehouse gutted by the Gambinos’s bomb, set off in retaliation against The Ridge MC. When Tommy had gottenwind of the imported drugs, he set Enzo into action to protect their criminal monopoly in the Southwest.

When two bikes tore up to the front of the building, my hand twitched toward my piece. Sas had texted me to meet him here, but my Marine years taught me I could never be too cautious. It could’ve been my MC or someone else. Another MC or even the cops.

Though, these bikes were black, and the riders wore leather rather than a uniform.

Sas, his lanky limbs reaching for the forward pegs and ape hangers, pulled to a stop and jumped off his bike. I relaxed. A little.

Teller was on his heels.

Stomping over to me and the warehouse, Sas hunched his shoulders. His jaw was tight. He stopped at the yellow police tape beside me, but the police and the fire department were long gone. Sas brought in an air of fury, tense and stale, and I wondered what Adelina had done now.

But when the VP looked around, whipping his head to inspect the warehouse, I realized this wasn’t the same frustration that he wore around Adelina.

No, this gave me just a little view into the puzzle who was the VP in the LA chapter of The Ridge. Playing with Adelina was a cat-and-mouse game to Sas, one in which he wanted to see how far he could push her before she snapped. He would bat a paw at her and wait for her to break.

The thought made me smile, because that little lady could take a lot before he created even a hairline fracture in her armor. I had been viewing this all wrong, and after Adelina’s admission last night, perhaps I should let the cards fall where they may and enjoy the show.

The frustration he showed now was more pure, like he had a better cause than his bratty betrothed to be angry. It left him red in the face, cheeks ballooning with puffed exhales.

“What do we have?” demanded Sas to Teller, like I wasn’t here. Why the hell did he order me to meet them if he didn’t want me involved?

“Not a lot,” said Teller.

“Any chance there’s some of the product left inside?”

“Doubtful.” Teller popped a piece of gum in his mouth.

Sas turned his head and spat, a brown stream of spit jetting toward the concrete. “And the last shipment?”

“Held up offshore,” said Teller.

In this biz, like with the Mafia, that wasn’t a good sign.

I raised my eyebrows. “Did the feds get them?”

“No. Just a delay to make sure the feds don’t intercept it,” said Teller. “With the explosion, they’ve been on high alert down here.”

I scowled at the two men. “The product offshore is from Colombia too?”

“Mmmm.” Sas nodded, one arm folded over his chest and propping the other up. He petted his beard as his eyes roamed over what was left of the building.

“Do the cartel brothers know you have more coming in?”

Sas shrugged. “Not sure, but we need to keep it on the DL. What about the shit we sent out?” he asked Teller.

“The product we got out before the explosion is still headed north to be cut in our house outside San Fran,” answered Teller.

“Call ’em. Get it done faster,” Sas commanded, louder now.

“We still need buyers,” said Teller.

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