Page 53 of Blood in the Water
I’d grown up around cocaine and the process of cutting your supply to stretch it and make more money. The cartels did the same shitty thing with the same shitty additive. It was low-cost, and it also gave the drug an added high effect, except the side effects were pretty gnarly after extended use. I’d seen a guy die from gangrene once, and that was one of the most horrible things I’d ever seen, which said a lot, knowing that I grew up around one of the most violent cartels in South America.
The Italians were stealing from the Russians, then cutting that very same product with a cheap additive to extend the amount they could sell. And I had full proof of it.
The Bratva would be fucking pissed.
If these bad drugs, with side effects that made my stomach turn, were in any way getting tied back to the Russians, we were on the cusp of war. That’s exactly why the Bratva paid me to find out what was happening.
I snapped more pictures, making sure to grab all the proof in documents as possible, as well as visual proof of the pallets of cocaine and the additives.
A cacophony of shouts had my head snapping back up to the main warehouse. I slipped back to the side office to hide. I’d get out and back to my van when things calmed down.
But something wasn’t right here.
Through the window, I could see the Italian guards lined up, knees on the ground and hands behind their heads. Men stood behind them with guns pointed down.
I frowned, my hand going to my gun at my side. Is this the Russians?
A man stormed into the room with a gun in his hand and controlled fury painted across his face. I recognized him. The new Italian head. The one who murdered his predecessor at his daughter’s birthday party.
“Well, what do we have here?” the man said. He was dressed in a crisp, freshly pressed suit that would make Ryuji jealous. It was Volpe, just like I thought. Obi had asked me to research the Vero Family a few weeks ago, and I had put together a brief profile on the old second-in-command, now head.
The four Italians on the ground remained silent, but their bodies shook in fear.
How could I get out of here without being seen? It would be a disaster if a Shadow got caught on a mission. Obi would kill me himself for creating such a nightmare.
“Oh? Now we don’t want to say anything?” Volpe pulled a handgun out of the breast pocket of his suit jacket, then pulled a suppressor from the other side. He screwed the suppressor on and pointed the gun at the first man’s head. “Traitors don’t get second chances.”
He pulled the trigger four times, killing each one in quick succession.
Volpe sighed heavily, unscrewed the suppressor with a gloved hand, and gave both it and the gun to a man standing directly beside him.
“Clean this up, Elio. Move the drugs. Then burn it all. Especially the shit that isn’t ours. I don’t want anything left but ash.Nothingthat can make us vulnerable to the Russians. Understood?”
Well, if that wasn’t an admission of guilt, I didn’t know what was. Too bad I hadn’t been voice recording. I snapped a few photos of Volpe and the dead bodies.
“Yes, Max,” the man, Elio, said. “We’ll take care of it.”
Volpe paused, staring down at the bodies for a few silent moments.
“We’re moving in the right direction, boss,” Elio assured him. “Don’t worry.”
Volpe nodded before straightening his suit. “I hope so.”
Before he turned around, Volpe’s phone rang—a shrill and annoying sound. Why couldn’t people just keep their devices on silent?
He looked at the screen momentarily before bringing it to his ear. “Yes?”
I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but a few emotions flittered across his face quickly. Was thatfear? Surprise? A flicker of concern? All before it shut down into a passive mask of annoyance.
“Are you positive? With the fuckingIrish?” He waited for a confirmation, but his face didn’t change. “I want proof. Immediately. If Caspian is back in the city, she cannot be far away.” Another pause. “Fine. Find them. And Lucia? Keep it quiet.”
He ended the call and suddenly shouted. “Goddamnit!”
Every person in the warehouse was suddenly completely interested in the ground. It took a few moments for Volpe to collect himself, once again straightening his suit.
He exchanged a glance with Elio. “Why couldn’t they have stayed the fuck away?”
He didn’t wait for a response, the question rhetorical, because he spun on his heel without another word and left.
