Page 38 of Jordan

“And we think Thiago is good for it?”

“Needs to be dealt with either way.”

We exit the overgrown trail through the woods and out to the small clearing where the warehouse is. On the outside, it looks beaten down, on the verge of falling apart, but that isn’t the case.

There’s a guard on the outside, one I don’t recognize but who clearly recognizes me. His eyes widen, and he nods his head in my direction, gripping his AK a little tighter. I don’t bother acknowledging him and walk inside. The warehouse is packed full of people cleaning product and doing their jobs. Good thing. I hate walking in and seeing people slacking off. The three of us head up the metal grate stairs to the office and open the door.

“Boss,” Thiago says, jerking upright in his chair. The grin that was just on his face is gone, and he drops his phone to the desk with a loud slap. He glances around nervously. “I didn’t know you were coming by. I’d have—”

“Cleaned the place up?” It’s a stupid joke, considering it’s a fucking warehouse in the middle of a bunch of fields. How much cleaning can be done?

He gets to his feet, his eyes too shifty for my comfort. “What, uh—what can I help you with?”

Thiago has been working with my father for distribution for about ten years, meaning he’s now working for me and my brothers. Father always said it’s the ten-year mark that screws people. It’s when they get ballsy. They get comfortable and feel entitled. Thinking they’ve been around for too long and deserve more. So they steal. Skimming off the top. Shit goes missing, and they’re smart enough to point us in another direction. Too bad for them, too many have tried it. Meaning, we know the game.

“Just a routine check,” I say. “Heard there was some product missing. Needed to see if I can help.”

I take a seat in the chair across from his desk. Antonio and Rocco stand behind me. Neither of them says a word.

Thiago’s wide eyes tell me all I need to know. He’s guilty. He sits back down at the desk, busying himself with shuffling papers around. It’s obvious he’s trying to make himself look busy. The least he could do is keep it together. If you’re man enough to steal from your boss, be man enough to own it.

“You think anyone’s good for it?” I ask, keeping my tone calm and even. I don’t know if he knows I’m on to him, but I’d prefer it if he didn’t. It’s more fun this way.

“When going through the paperwork, it seems the product went missing over the third shift, but on different nights. There were four different people working those shifts. None I think, are more responsible than the other.”

“And you alerted us right away.” It’s a statement, though I know it to be bullshit.

“Yes, of course.”

I nod, holding his gaze. The man is a pussy. Holds not a single ounce of confidence, which is pitiful. How the hell did he make it to manage this place?

I smile at him. “Well, I’m here to handle it.”

I get to my feet, and turn to face Antonio and Rocco. I give them nothing more than a raised brow, and they know what to do.

They move on Thiago at the same time. Both stalking toward him like lions.

“Wh-what are you doing?” he shouts, backing against the wall.

I reach into the back of my pants for my gun.

“Taking care of the problem, Thiago.” I cock the gun and aim it between his eyes. “Is there anything you want to tell me before I do that?”

“It w-wasn’t me, I swear! I just-just did what I was t-told.”

Antonio and Rocco are on either side of him, ready to pounce if needed. They’re like guard dogs, but bigger, scarier, and deadlier.

“Told by who?”

“Juan! He told me to let you know stuff was m-missing, and I did.”

“So Juan took the product?”

Juan is the one under him. Less than a manager, more than a worker.

He nods violently.

“And you thought it was a good idea to cover for him—why?”