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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

THE ALLEY SMELLED like oil, body odor, and old garbage, the kind of mix that clung to your clothes and made you want to burn them afterward. I pressed my back against the brick wall, my breath shallow, listening to the low rumble of voices coming from the garage.

The Dragon Fire idiots weren’t subtle, but they weren’t stupid either. If they caught me here, I wouldn’t get a warning they’d take me prisoner and hold me for Drago.

Still, I couldn’t stop. I needed proof, something solid that tied them to the trafficking and drugs I knew they were running. Without it, all I had were suspicions and a bad feeling, and neither of those would hold up for a warrant.

I peeked around the corner, careful not to let the light from the garage spill onto my face. Four of them were inside, laughing and talking shit like they didn’t have a care in the world. Fang wasn’t there—thank God—but I recognized a few of the others from the clubhouse.

One of them, a wiry guy with a scar running down his cheek, was waving a package in the air. It was small, wrapped in brown paper, but from the way the others were eyeing it, I had a pretty good guess what was inside. Drugs, probably heroin.

“Got another shipment coming in tonight,” Scarface said, tossing the package onto the workbench. “Drago says we need to up production.”

I bit my lip, forcing myself to stay calm. This wasn’t the kind of intel I needed.

“Yeah, well, Drago needs to worry about more about profits,” another one said, a beefy guy with arms the size of tree trunks. “That bitch we lost—Zeynep—she’s a problem. Drago’s losing his shit about her.”

Scarface shrugged, lighting a cigarette. “She’s gone. And he’ll get over it in a couple weeks. One wet hole is as good as the next, nothin’ special.”

“Drago’s worried about her talkin’,” Beefy said. “He’s worried about her friend. You know, the one he told Fang to rough up? What was her name? Lucy?”

My blood ran cold, but I stayed frozen, pressing harder against the wall.

“Yeah, Fang’s pretty interested in her,” Scarface said, blowing out a puff of smoke. “He keeps talkin’ about how he’s gonna find her and bring her back. Says she’s got unfinished business with him.”

“Unfinished business,” Beefy repeated with a laugh. “That’s one way to put it. Pretty sure he just wants to fuck her. Too damn scrawny for me.”

The others laughed, adding their own grating and cruel remarks about my appearance. Fuck them, like I’d ever touch their stinking asses. I pushed away all the memories of Fang that their words sparked in my head. There was no time for any sort of weakness. Not now.

I needed more information about what was in those cargo containers.

The sound of an engine rumbled through the alley, and the laughter stopped as the men turned toward the noise. A black SUV pulled up to the garage, its windows tinted so dark you couldn’t see inside.

“Shit,” Scarface muttered, flicking his cigarette to the ground. “He’s early.”

The SUV came to a stop, and the driver’s side door opened. A man stepped out, tall and broad-shouldered, his suit marking him as organized crime. It wasn’t Drago, but it was someone important.

“Everything ready?” the man asked, his voice smooth and commanding.

“Yeah,” Scarface said, nodding quickly. “We’ll have the shipment ready to move as soon as it lands. Shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“Good,” the man said, his gaze sweeping the garage. “Boss doesn’t want any screw-ups. If this goes south, it’s your heads. We have too much important cargo arriving this month to have anything go wrong.”

Scarface and the others nodded, their earlier bravado gone.

I pulled back, my heart pounding as I tried to process what I’d just heard. The shipment. If I could follow them, get proof, I’d have something solid.

It was dangerous but I couldn’t back out now.

I slipped back into the shadows, pulling out my phone. Oliver’s number was at the top of my recent calls, and I tapped it with shaky fingers.

“Lucy?” he answered, his voice tinged with concern.

“I found them,” I said, keeping my voice low.

“Found who?”

“The Dragon Fire,” I whispered. “They’re moving something in a few days.”

There was a pause, and then his voice turned serious. “Where are you?”

I gave him the address, my eyes flicking back to the garage. “Find out what you can about this warehouse,” I said, ending the call before he could ask questions.

As I tucked the phone back into my pocket, I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm.

The night wasn’t over, not until the men inside left. They could spill more information and I wanted to be around to hear it.

And if Fang was coming for me, he’d have to catch me first. And I prayed that would never happen with every breath inside me. I don’t think I could survive another round with him.