Page 58 of Arranged Control

The vibe in the Whelan house is grim.

Father’s sitting behind his desk in his study. Cormac’s beside him, both of them hunched over a computer screen. Finn is standing beside the bar cart drinking quietly. Across from them, Ruslan glares around at everyone, clearly past the point of livid and into some new dimension of rage. Declan tries to talk to him, but the old Pakhan doesn’t seem interested in conversation.

“What’s going on?” I ask Finn quietly.

He shoves a whiskey into my hand. “Big trouble.”

“Elaborate.”

He nods toward Dad and Cormac. “Go take a look.”

It’s not like him to hold back, but he’s shaken. I take a sip of the drink, nod respectfully to Ruslan, who completely ignores his new son-in-law, and go to stand on my father’s other side.

“Start it over for him,” Dad grunts at Cormac. Both seem miserable, which sets me on edge.

There’s a video on the screen. Cormac clicks a few times, and it replays from the beginning.

A truck’s on fire. One of those big shipping containers on the back is fully up in flames. A man runs past the camera, screaming. He’s burning too. There are bodies on the ground, and whoever’s taking the video is trembling. Everything’s blurry and hard to follow. There’s another scream and the camera whips around.

The burning man is on the ground now. A dark shape stands over him holding a long knife. The shape stabs the burning man several times in the chest before turning and flitting away into the night again.

What the fuck? What the fuck?The man holding the camera keeps saying it over and over again.What the fuck?

The video ends there.

“I’m going to echo our friend and ask: what the fuck was that?”

Cormac sighs, rubbing his face. “About an hour ago, one of our trucks was assaulted. It ran over a piece of wood with nails sticking out, forcing it to pull over, and was attacked by the person you saw with the knife.”

“A single person did all that?” My eyebrows raise in alarm. “Pretty impressive.”

“Not fuckingimpressive,” Ruslan barks. “Expensive, you mean. Do you know what was on that truck?”

“Drugs, usually.”

Dad gives me a look that screams,play nice.

“Yes, drugs, my fucking drugs.” Ruslan’s snarling and very unhappy. “Some dead man walking burned my truck and killed my drivers.”

“Our drivers,” Dad corrects. “We lost product in the blaze too.”

“Not as much as me. That truck was mine. And now it is gone, but where is my compensation?”

I stare at the man like he’s gone insane. “We’re running a drug-smuggling outfit. If you want insurance, go legit.”

“You all make assurances. This would be safe. This would be profitable. But I just watched a few million of my investment disappear into smoke.”

“That’s a problem,” Declan agrees, trying to play peacemaker. “But right now, we need to focus on finding whoever did that.”

“There aren’t many people around here capable of taking down a truck and setting it on fire single-handed.” Cormac crosses his arms over his chest, looking pensive. “The list should be easy to go through.”

“I’ll start asking around,” Finn offers. “Starting with the usual suspects.”

“Good idea. Get moving.” Dad nods at Finn, who finishes his drink and strides out of the room. “In the meantime, Ruslan, if you have any ideas?—”

“What ideas do you expect? You think I had something to do with this?”

“Of course not,” Declan says. “But if you know of anyone who wants to do you harm?—”