Page 71 of The Secrets We Share

KEIRA

Madness - Ruelle

Harkin shares the manifest to the TV, enlarging the list to the larger screen so we can all see it. The details he dug up from the last ten years revealed his father’s relationship with the person we’re assuming is the contact Domenico mentioned. There are no names or indicators of who it is, but we know they work out of Mexico. It doesn’t take a genius to know drugs coming from that area are linked to the cartel. This shit just keeps getting worse.

“I can’t believe my dad is involved with the cartel,” Harkin says, slumping back onto the couch.

We gave up on the office and moved to the living room a couple of hours ago. The couch offers the ability to work off each other’s screens while using the TV for anything important. I lean my head on his shoulder, scanning the compiled spreadsheet.

“I mean, is the cartel really any worse than my family's shit? They’ve all got their grimy hands in something, making thisworld a worse-off place. At least we haven’t stumbled into the skin trade. That’s a silver lining.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure it’s not happening. We just haven’t caught onto it yet.”

“I’d like to remain blissfully unaware of that one if I can,” I tell him.

Drugs, guns, and money laundering are all bad. But at the end of the day, it’s nowhere close to the level of kidnapping and selling women and children. It happens every day. People I knew on the streets disappeared and were never heard from again. Those not already indebted to their dealers were given more rope to lead to their own demise. It’s a fucked-up cycle that keeps the merchandise constant.

“I can’t figure out why they’re bothering with the port. They’ve probably been running with trucks for years, so why the change now?”

“Maybe they had one too many run-ins on their routes. The open water offers a faster route around that?” I say, acting like I know anything about running drugs, aside from what I’ve picked up from TV show dramas.

“Patrick having an in at the docks helps get them imported. But there’s still a whole slew of shit that can go sideways. Unloading the product, getting it across the city without detection, the drop…” Harkin trails off as if his mind is running through all the problems we should account for.

“And that’s why he’s paying us the big bucks, in the form of your father,” I throw it out lightly.

“Are you joking about this?”

But I just shrug, because if I can’t try to make light of this situation, it will drive me crazy. I’m surprised my hair hasn’t fallen out from all the stress this last year has caused. I somehow miss the days when my biggest problem was figuring out where I would lay my head that night or where my next meal would comefrom. Those were things I could handle. This shit is so much bigger—literal life or death.

“We should finalize the route. I need to send it to Domenico so he can get it to his men.”

Harkin switches the TV screen to the map we’ve outlined. It’s not the fastest route, but it avoids the most points for possible tension. Domenico obviously hadn’t researched the date he chose for the import. Right off the pier, the event space is set for a massive benefit concert. Celebrities, musicians, and the odd local politician are all set to join the festivities. That means the place will be crawling with cops. Then again, maybe it’s the exact sleight of hand we need to pull this off.

“And you’re sure going south is the best option?” I ask him.

“There are fewer cameras going out that way. Plus, it’s the typical route for trucks leaving the docks to hit the expressway. It’d look more conspicuous if they head north straight away.”

“And the cameras that are there?”

“I’ll hack in and scramble them. If you can handle the lights at the same time, it’ll be easier for us to get them through the city and out to the border. Do you think you can handle that, sweetness?”

I throw him an annoyed glare. After everything he’s taught me, lighting the path up green is child’s play. It’s tempting to make the escape route a living hell, cause the whole of NYPD to come down on them, and leave it at that. The problem with that plan is it’d no doubt sign the Greyson patriarch’s death certificate and ours right along with him once the cartel was after us.

“Don’t insult my abilities. You taught me, remember?”

James stomps down the hall, joining us in the living room. He’s been watching both Domenico and Patrick, ensuring they’re both keeping their distance from us. Something’s happened. I don’t like the look of fierce annoyance on his face.

“What’s up with you?” I ask, watching him pull the top off the crystal decanter in the corner.

“You need to call her and talk some sense into her. She’s driving me crazy.”

The composed demeanor he typically sports slips when he throws back the amber liquid and replenishes his glass. My laptop almost clatters to the floor as I jump off the couch, but Harkin saves it at the last minute. I’m across the room and in his face before he finishes his second glass.

“What did you do to her!” I shout, jamming a finger into his hard chest, looking up at the towering giant of a man.

“Do to her? I’ve done nothing but protect her, but now that she’s carrying my child, she thinks I’m smothering her and overreacting. So help me, Keira, you either talk some sense into her, or I’ll force her to go anyway,” he threatens, the words clipped.

I have no doubt in my mind he’ll make good on his promise, but I’m still not sure what the issue is in the first place.

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