Page 64 of Their Princess

“We could sell some property,” he said, “but I only have guess-timates on how much it might bring in.”

Teller, the road captain in LA, asked, “Is there any product left in the warehouse that we can move?”

I shook my head no. At least, not in LA. The product right now was coming from south of the border. Maybe it was time to look north or far east.

“Ward, do what you do. Hack into some shit?” Wilde ordered. “Help us figure out a way out of this fuckery.”

I opened my mouth to object, but Wilde raised a hand to silence me.

“Even if it’s only as a backup plan,” he said.

The Warden nodded. “I’ll look into it, Prez.”

“And Sas . . .” Wilde waited.

I flashed my eyes up to meet his.

“Maybe you should listen to Rafe just a little. The club’s got your back like you had Angel’s up at Barton Mill when we busted the Gambinos’ trafficking operations.”

My nostrils flared as I sucked in a deep breath, but all I could do was nod. I’d just told Rafe to show respect, so time to swallow that bitter pill myself.

“I can go to Columbia,” offered Rafe. “See what I can learn about Barranquilla and Medellín.”

“You’re not going to Columbia,” I said.

“I have the military training,” said Rafe. “I can handle myself.”

“You’ll understand if I can’t quite trust you with my best interests right now.” I tried hard to be diplomatic, since Wilde told me to listen to what the man said. Thankfully, others around the table had my back. Several of them nodded, agreeing with me.

“It’s too dangerous,” said Graff. “Military experience or not.”

“Agreed,” said Wilde. “No one is to go down there until all other options are exhausted.”

Rafe shook his head, obviously pissed. But he had been shut down twice today: once with the Parisi money, second with no solo trips to Colombia. He would’ve probably come back with a deal for the Mafia instead of protecting his new brothers. Shutting him down was half as good as beating him in the ring. I beamed just a little.

But Wilde leaned over and smacked me upside the head. “Get your shit together, Sas, or you’ll find yourself out of the club. This is a good start.”

“Is it?” I asked. “What are we telling the Rojas brothers in three days?”

“Two.” Graff held up two fingers as if I couldn’t understand the word.

“We’ll figure that out tomorrow,” said Wilde. “You have your marching orders for now.”

“Two days,” said Rafe in a voice small enough I nearly didn’t catch it. “You have two days after losing last night to your party.”

“Two is better than none,” I said.

Our newest officer rubbed his jawline. “We’ll need a day to get hands on the cash if we have to.”

“We’ll get it figured out,” I said, affirming as much to myself more than anyone else.

Rafe gave a slow shake of his head, clearly not believing us. “Prez.” He turned to Wilde. “We need to put up a front like we’re going to do what the Medellín Cartel wants with the Barranquilla, or it will be all over for us. Money or not, they will come for our heads.”

Rat-tat-tat-bang!

Then, that stupid fairy-like chime Duchess programmed into the doorbell contraption started. I jerked back, reaching for my gun. My brothers moved with me, grabbing their pieces fromtheir backs. No one ever knocked on the door or rang, so every muzzle in the room trained on the front door as we all prepared for an attack.

Chapter Fourteen