Page 43 of Hunter

“Shut up, Russ,” Harrison barks, taking everyone by surprise. Damon sits up a little straighter in his chair, his interest now piqued by the scene unfolding. “Right now, Christmas shopping is the last thing on my fucking mind. Violet and Evie will be lucky to get a chocolate Santa at this rate with the volume of shit on my desk.”

“It wasn’t you going shopping,” Russell states, petulant. He channels his inner teenager, almost pouting at being scolded by his brother-in-law. “I was just messing…”

Harrison takes a breath, then runs a hand through his hair. He looks nervous, more uncertain than I’ve ever seen him in all the years we’ve worked together. Something is very wrong, and he is considering how to tell us. I don’t like that.

Time passes and it only annoys me more. I hate when people sit on information and don’t level with me. Nothing can be fixed without having a handle on the problem, and my instincts tell me we have a fucking monumental one today.

“Spit it out, Waite,” I snap, losing patience. “What could be so bad that you’re standing there like a lost boy?”

“The container ship is missing,” he says, deadpan, and my stomach sinks to my toes. Hell, of all the things that could have come out his mouth, that wasn’t what I expected. “Somewhere between Tangier and St. Petersburg. They were three days into the voyage, and it’s gone.”

This new knowledge makes Damon shoot to his feet. He pulls out his phone and starts blindly-tapping the screen. He lifts it to his ear, I assume attempting to call our men on deck. When the call isn’t answered, he picks a different contact and tries again.

“I spoke to them six hours ago,” Damon declares.

Harrison watches him, then walks over to the fridge and pulls out five beers, passing us each one. Connor, who hasn’t said anything yet, throws himself in a chair. Russell, who looks completely unfazed by the news, simply opens and drinks his bottle. Damon is still frantically trying to contact those on board, but deep down, I know his attempts are futile.

“Pirates?” I suggest. The oceans are dangerous places, and even though most modern-day pirates tend to focus on Somalia or Indonesia, it isn’t far-fetched to think they may work in other waters.

“Unlikely,” Connor says, finally joining it the conversation. “I very much doubt whoever has taken our ship has done so through pure luck. Pirates tend to board, grab what they can, then run.”

“Plus,” Harrison continues. “The tracking system has been completely deactivated. All mobile phones are switched off. This isn’t a by-chance operation; it’s been planned. Staged even. Whoever did this has a deep understanding of what we are doing. This was targeted.”

“And we are sure the ship hasn’t gone down?” Damon butts in, after finally giving up attempting to contact anyone on board.

“The chances of us losing two ships to the ocean bed is almost zero, especially one after the other,” Harrison advises. “It’s literally fallen off the grid, and that’s a sign of something planned.”

“Has it been confirmed the other ship actually sank?” Connor asks.

“The information garnered from the black box on board suggests that it did, but the wreck hasn’t been located.”

Russell, who has been listening but showing little interest, returns to the fridge and removes more drinks. He grabs an ice bucket then scoops ice from the machine into it before arranging the beers inside. Once happy with his artwork, he places it on the center of the table.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “This is bad. The relationship with Rodion will be shit enough without this.” My flippant comment makes Harrison straighten slightly, and he pins me with a stare. I’ve been keeping something from them all while I finalized the arrangements for one of the biggest business deals I will make in my life. They’re all going to be furious.

“What do you mean, will be shit enough?” he snarls, immediately realizing I’ve been limiting information. “What the fuck have you done?”

Everyone looks between each other, assessing whether anyone else knows what the hidden information is. None of them do. I didn’t even tell Damon, and he is possibly my closest friend. It was too important not to seal the arrangement before risking it becoming public knowledge.

“My niece is getting married,” I announce, pushing myself up to stand.

“The insane one?” Russell asks, settling himself back in his chair with a drink. “The one that’s forever causing problems?”

“The very same. Tilly is engaged to be married to Domenico Lombardi.” That fact stuns them all to silence. The Lombardi family and my own have had tense ties for decades. Based in Italy, they are possibly the most influential family in Europe within our circles. An allegiance between them and us will be nothing short of nuclear. We will be unstoppable.

“Is he not like seventy?” Harrison says, rubbing at his brow. His question regains my attention from the idealistic draw of power. “And Tilly is what? Twenty?”

“She’s twenty-two.” I shrug, unworried by his clear disgust at the arrangements I’m in the process of making. This is part of the reason I never told my friends my plan; they wouldn’t agree and they would let me know. I didn’t need their permission. We all work in this underworld, but none of them come from a family like I do. They’ve had their challenges, but the expectation to marry well hasn’t defined their lives.

“That’s a dick move,” Russell says. He angles his bottle in my direction. “You are an absolute cock.”

“Arranged marriage has been part of my family’s culture for decades. Tilly always knew her union would be a mutually beneficial one. Lombardi still doesn’t have an heir; he needs a young wife to provide one. I was happy to oblige.”

“And what are you getting in return?” Connor asks, dragging the full fucking issue into the light. “And…” he adds before I can speak. “Why will that fuck off the Russians?”

Resigned to having to show my hand before I wanted to, I gesture to the bucket of beer in the center of the table. “Very well, pass me another beer and I’ll tell you all.” Connor plucks a bottle from its resting place, then tosses it to me. It flies through the air, and I catch it masterfully, then place it on the surface to settle.

Damon, who was sitting silently while this whole conversation was taking place, glowers at me. He’s going to be pissed that I didn’t let him in on my plan. He’s going to be even more jacked off about the increased danger we will be in, considering the container has now gone missing. His job just got harder.

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