Page 19 of Vendetta
The man spat on the ground.“You’re lucky I owe Eli.”
Vendetta’s eyes narrowed.There it is.Maybe a lead?
Whatever they were moving, it wasn’t medical supplies.And whatever had gone wrong was happening under Eli Crizer’s name.
Vendetta waited until the argument died down and the other van pulled away before climbing out of his own.He dropped the box at the back door ofNoesner Medicallike nothing was wrong.He smiled, signed, and drove off.
But his next stop wasn’t on the delivery sheet.He was going back to the warehouse.To the logbooks and digital records.Because if what he just heard was the tip of something bigger?He was going to dig until the whole damn thing collapsed.
Rolling the van back into theINeedawarehouse lot like it was just another day on the job, he parked where he always did.He gave Freddie the usual nod as he passed the office window.There was no need to draw attention or move too fast.Inside, the air smelled like cardboard and bleach.The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, and the shelves stood stacked in neat, harmless rows.A dozen employees moved like clockwork, handling boxes, checking orders, and scanning barcodes.
And just like that, he disappeared into the system.Vendetta made his way to the records room under the guise of a restock.No one questioned him.New guy or not, he’d already learned how to stay off the radar.People didn’t look twice if you looked like you belonged there.
He stepped into the back office where they kept the printed records.They were filed by date, destination, and client account.It was mostly digitized now, but the paper trail still mattered.He pulled records from the past four weeks forNoesner Medical.He sorted through them one by one.At first, he saw exactly what he expected -- bandages, alcohol wipes, cold packs, and gloves.
But the red flags soon began to emerge.
A record from two weeks ago:
* 400-count sterile surgical gloves.
* IV sedation kits, unboxed.
* Sterile wraps ordered under a third-party billing name SS Holdings.
That same name again.SS.Sinister Skin.
Flipping back through the records, there was a separate account forNed’s Sundown Lounge.
Officially, they’d only ordered standard supplies.But three days ago, an order had been placed under a personal pickup listing.No driver name.Just initials: SH.
And the contents?
Wound sealants
Two field-use medical kits
Naltrexone injectors
What the hell was a bar doing with opioid blockers?Vendetta’s mind was racing.This wasn’t just shady.This was medical gear ordered in preparation for damage control.The contents were for sedation, patching up trauma, and keeping people alive, just long enough.
Vendetta carefully tucked the copies back exactly as he’d found them, his heart pounding cold and steady in his chest.He tucked the last document back into place, closed the cabinet with the same casual care he’d use if nothing had changed.But everythinghad.They were moving people, and Dylan Crizer was right in the middle of it without even realizing it.He couldn’t afford to make a mistake now.Couldn’t afford to spook the Cottonmouths too early -- or Dylan.
Still… He knew he needed to try and convince her to get a job somewhere else.Somewhere safer, far fromNed’s and the shady dealings happening every night.Vendetta knew it wouldn’t work.She was so damn stubborn, the kind of stubborn that grew from being hurt too many times and still choosing to stand up straight.Dylan wouldn’t run just because he told her to.
But shouldn’t he at least try?Even if she stayed, even if she fought him on it, maybe hearing it from someone else, someone who saw the warning signs would plant a seed.Maybe it would remind her that she wasn’t as safe as she wanted to believe.
Meanwhile, first things first.He needed to know her schedule better than she did.If things turned ugly fast, and they would, her safety would depend on him knowing exactly where she was, and when.He rolled the van out of the warehouse with his last set of deliveries like nothing was wrong, every movement calm and practiced.But his mind was already working the angles.
Where did Dylan go when she wasn’t atNed’s?When were her shifts?He’d never liked the idea of her walking back and forth to work at the bar… or anywhere for that matter.Who did she trust enough to talk to beside him?He’d been remiss in not paying close enough attention before.But he sure would now.
No more late-night distractions or pretending he could just drift in and out of her life like it didn’t matter.It damn well did matter.More than it should.And he’d start tonight.
Vendetta would need to map her routines, watch the corners she didn’t know she needed to watch.He’d like to think he was the only one she’d told about her uncle’s behavior and what she heard at the Cottonmouths’ table.If she’d told someone else, like Peggy who knew something, it could put her in the line of fire.If Eli’s operation realized she was asking the wrong questions or just standing in the wrong hallway at the wrong time, she’d become disposable.
Did she know her cousin, who was known as Babyface to his MC, well at all?Did she know what had really happened to him?Or did she think he was alive somewhere out there?
Vendetta had already buried one life at the hands of traitors.He wasn’t about to bury another.
