Page 5 of His Deadly Lies

“We had this one come straight through Fort Wayne. No s-stops,” the young man stutters. “As we were ordered.”

“Obviously, you’re lying to me. Unless you’re calling my cousin a liar.” I stalk forward and lift a leg, stomping on the lid of the first crate. “He personally verified the shipment from his end, and the total count was thirty. This is twenty-seven. Explain.”

Both of the men drop their eyes to their shoes. “We didn’t make any unauthorized stops,” the older one murmurs.

They’re worker bees.

And I happen to know that neither one of them has been with our organization for more than six months. It’s one thing to treat subordinates well enough that we gain their loyalty. This is not the case. This is not the first time packages have gone missing in the past few weeks. Not by a long shot.

Which means something is going on. Inside and outside of the Balestra organization.

It might not be these two buffoons, but they’re the ones I’m looking at right now.

My stomach drops, and the semi-calm of the third martini trickles away. Papa is going to have to listen to me this time. It’s happened too often to be an accident at this point.

I snap my fingers before a bit of my exhaustion slips through my mask. I rub my temples and sigh. “Rafel?” I look over my shoulder to my driver. “Assistance?”

He smoothly lifts to attention and pulls out a gun from the holster hidden beneath his coat, cocking it at the two workers.

The one who stared at me gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing like a fishing lure on choppy waters.

Trusting Rafel’s aim, I step up to the man and run a hand up his trembling arm. “Where was the unauthorized stop?” I need to know. “Where did you go tonight? I’m not fucking stupid. I know what you did.”

He knows better than to test me or make up more excuses.

“Okay, I had to take a piss at a rest stop.” The guy shrugs even as sweat trickles down toward his chin. “That was it. I locked the truck and everything, and nothing looked off when I got back. So what?”

“What rest stop?”

I enunciate every word, allowing them to drop like bombs.

He deviated from clear plans. Who hired them?

It’s taking these jackasses way too long to tell me where they made their stop, so I can get people on the theft as soon as possible.

“Fort Wayne.” The other man blurts out the answer. Sweat drips from his hairline. “It was Fort Wayne, Miss Balestra.”

This next part is not my favorite, but it’s all part of the game. The players usually know their roles from the start of it, though few have a choice. That’s my one consolation. These two workers knew better than to stop, and their deviance from the plan allowed someone else to slip in.

To fuck with our inventory.

I smile at both of the men, flashing teeth. “Next time I ask a question, it will be much easier for you if you answer it immediately,” I tell the one closest to me. “Now you’ll have to pay.”

2

MIA

I wave a hand to Rafel, and he automatically moves forward, whipping the end of the gun against the one’s head before shooting the other between the eyes as I walk away. My heels tap out a final symphony on my way out the door.

I need to breathe.

I need to take five and sit in the car.

Rafel will take care of everything inside without asking questions. It’s especially helpful when my head is buzzing with them. Missing boxes might seem small in the grand scheme of things, and if this had been the first light delivery, I might have gone along with the elders and brushed it off as vandals or kids playing a prank. Something small and innocuous. Innocent, almost.

But this is not the first time, and the problem extends past this most recent shipment.

Without looking back to make sure the job is completed, I pull out my cell, clicking on the group text. The phone is untraceable, a burner, and the line secure.

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