Page 86 of Savage Promises

“Not the safest place for weapons and ammo since it’s near that methane dump,” I say, pulling a tablet from my briefcase. I tap a few buttons and a drone launches from the roof of the trailer. “Let’s hope for your sake, Garrett, you’re not wasting my time.”

My old friend’s leg bounces as he watches a live feed on the wall-mounted screen. The drone zips over streets and down alleys before zeroing in on the warehouse. It hovers, scanning the perimeter, then slips through an open window.

Inside, crates are stacked high. Rows and rows of metal shelving with the unmistakable sheen of weaponry have my heart pounding. The Albanians are more organized than I thought they’d be. I recognize Russian-made assault rifles. Christ, they stole from the Bratva, too?

Connor grins greedily at the bounty.

“Looks like you’re telling the truth,” I say, locking eyes with Garrett as the tension in the room shifts.

“Now for the next step. You’re going to set up a meeting with your contact. Tell them you’ve got another shipment ready to sell.”

Garrett blinks with nervous energy that melts into confusion. “What? They’ll ask too many questions. They’ve already lost one shipment and two guys dealing with me. They won’t trust me.”

“We blamed that on the Italians,” Connor reminds him. “Now you need to come up with a good enough lie to make them trust you. Did you think we’d make thiseasy for you? Did you think we’d pat you on the back and send you on your way?”

“While we do all the work?” I bark. “You’re going to arrange to sell them a ten-by-ten box truck full of weapons. Only it won’t be weapons. It’ll be us.”

Garrett’s jaw unhinges like he’s about to argue, but one look at Connor’s face shuts him up. He nods quickly. “Fine. I’ll make the call.”

I watch him go outside and light a cigarette while he scrolls through the phone we gave back to him.

“How was your wedding night?” Connor asks me, looking ready to engage in some locker room talk.

As if I’d give him dirty details about my wife, I just sit at my desk and say, “Best night of my life.”

“No shit.” Connor scrubs his close-trimmed beard. “So, you recommend getting married?”

I laugh. “Thinking about it?”

He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Not even a little bit.”

I stifle my shock at Connor’s foolishness to think he won’t fall for someone as Garrett comes back into the trailer. I’d forgotten about the fucker for a minute.

“They bought it.” His voice is shaky but resolute. “They gave me a window of tomorrow night, eleven to twelve.”

“How many men will be there?” I ask.

He shrugs.

Exhaling, I turn to Connor. “I’ll get the IPs of their weapons team and hack their phones.”

“I’ll call Trace and Rhys to find the truck.”

“Aye.” I return my gaze to Garrett. “Be back here at ten p.m. tomorrow. If you don’t show—”

“I’ll be here,” he snaps and pushes out the trailer’s door.

“Do you want me to follow him?” Connor says, yanking a lighter and a smoke out of his coat pocket.

“Yeah, why not? Keep him on his toes.” I go to sit down at my desk and get to my usual day of reviewing contractor reports when the narrow metal door flies back open wrenching me from my desk chair and pulling my gun.

I shove it back in my jacket when a blonde wreck stumbles in.

“Where’s Havok?” she slurs, her smokey voice grating on me in one second flat. “He deals out of here, yeah?”

“Wrong trailer, sweetheart,” Connor says to her, but stands up straighter giving her a once-over that is so obvious I grab back hold of my gun.

What the bleedin’ hell is going on?

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