Page 36

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

“YOU SHOULD REALLY consider investing in a bigger trash can,” I said, picking up an empty soda can and tossing it toward the already overflowing one in the corner. It clattered onto the floor instead.

Oliver didn’t even glance up from his monitor. “That one is fine. It doubles as modern art.”

I snorted, leaning against the edge of his desk. “You’re a lost cause.”

“Says the woman who’s been sleeping on my couch for two weeks and hasn’t unpacked a single thing,” he shot back, adjusting his glasses and giving me a pointed look over the rim.

“I’m not here to redecorate,” I said, grabbing a stray mug off the desk and sniffing it. Coffee. Probably from this morning. “I’m here because you’re the only person I trust not to stab me in the back.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “I keep my knives locked up tight for those more deserving.”

“Good,” I said, taking a sip of the coffee. Bitter as hell, but it’d do. “Now, tell me what you found on those docks.”

Oliver’s fingers flew across the keyboard, the glow from his screens illuminating his face. “Give me a second. I’m pulling up the shipping logs now.”

I watched him work, the hum of his computers filling the silence. Oliver had a knack for unraveling puzzles, a talent for digging into cold cases and ignored leads the cops were too lazy or unimaginative to handle. His skills had become a lifeline for me, but his friendship? That was the real treasure.

“There it is,” he said after a few minutes, leaning back and gesturing toward the monitor. “The shipment is scheduled to dock at Pier 17 in six days. It’s flagged under a fake company name—classic cartel move—but the real paperwork links it back to Gabriel Lopez.”

The name has become familiar to me over the past few days. Lopez. The puppet master behind Dragon Fire and the supply chain running through the state.

“You’re sure it’s him? And the cargo’s dirty?” I asked, my voice tight.

“Positive,” Oliver said, tapping the screen. “I found his signature on the customs forms. Sloppy, but effective. He’s got someone on the inside fast-tracking this shipment through port security. That tells me all I need to know—they’re hiding something.”

“Of course he found some dirty custom agents,” I muttered, setting the mug down harder than I intended.

Oliver leaned forward, his gaze sharp. “We need eyes on that dock, Lucy. If you want proof, this is it.”

I crossed my arms, my mind already mapping out the logistics. “Staking out the docks won’t be easy. Security’s tight, and if Lopez has cops in his pocket, staying invisible is going to be a bitch.”

Oliver smirked. “You? Not able to be invisible? Please. You’re like a ghost when you want to be.”

“Thanks. I think,” I said, pushing off the desk and pacing the room. The weight of the situation was pressing down harder with every step. “We need a vantage point. Somewhere we can see the whole operation without being spotted.”

“I’ll pull up satellite images of the area,” he said, his fingers already flying over the keyboard again.

“Good,” I said, glancing at the cluttered table by the couch. A bag of chips caught my eye, and I grabbed it, tearing it open. “You want some?”

Oliver gave me a skeptical look. “Are those from my snack stash?”

“Where else would I get them?” I asked around a mouthful of chips.

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue. He could be weirdly territorial over his snacks, but he let it slide this time. “So, what’s the plan after the stakeout? You going solo on this, or bringing in someone else? Maybe that biker club can help?”

The mention of the club made my chest tighten, the ache of missing Spinner impossible to ignore. “I’m not bringing them in,” I said, my voice harsh with the hurt I was still feeling. “They let me down. Right now, I need trust above all else, and I don’t have that with them.”

Oliver’s gaze softened as he looked at me. “You can’t do this alone forever, Lucy. Eventually, you’re going to need backup.”

I shook my head. “I’ll figure it out. For now, it’s just me and you.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Lucky me.”

“You’re damn right,” I said with a grin, tossing a chip at him.

He caught it midair, popping it into his mouth with a theatrical flourish. “Fine. But if this goes south, I’m running. I’m not cut out to be a prisoner, they’d kill me just to stop my crying.”

I laughed, the sound catching me off guard. It felt good to laugh, even if it was fleeting. “Don’t worry, Oliver. If anyone’s going to be a prisoner, it’ll be me.”

“That’s not comforting,” he muttered, turning back to his screens.

For a moment, I let myself relax, leaning against the wall and watching him work. The weight of everything—Spinner, Fang, Lopez—still sat heavy on my shoulders, but with Oliver giving me something concrete to focus on, it didn’t feel as suffocating.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “If you could be anywhere right now, doing anything, what would it be?”

The question threw me. “What kind of question is that?”

“A hypothetical one,” he said, glancing at me with a faint smile. “Come on, humor me.”

I thought about it for a second, my gaze drifting to the window. “I’d be on a beach somewhere, drinking something fruity and pretending predators like Lopez didn’t exist.”

Oliver chuckled. “You? Relaxing? Yeah, I don’t buy it.”

“That’s why it’s a fantasy,” I said with a smirk. “It’ll never happen.”

“Sure it will,” he said, smirking back. “Right after you take down an entire cartel and save the world.”

“If only it were that easy,” I said, smiling despite myself.

Oliver shook his head, his focus returning to the monitor. “Alright, Lucy. Let’s save the world, one rescue at a time.”

And just like that, the weight settled back into place. Those people out there—the ones Lopez and Dragon Fire were preying on—they needed me.

And I wouldn’t let them down.