Page 77 of Tangled Lies

I sighed.

“She’s sort of a pain. Do you think she’s picking favorites? She can’t marry Ronan and stay in our house if she’s…”

I shut up as Ronan’s door opened and closed.

Knox leaned closer to me.

“I don’t think she knows her own feelings yet.”

He was probably right., but we didn’t trust just anyone, and Ronan was the most paranoid. What had he seen in her that made him adopt the stray? Fuck, what did any of us see in her? We walked in silence to the side door where I’d seen a guy taking his break.

The rain still flowed from the heavens, but it wasn’t pouring any more. The sound on the metal roofs of the buildings was a good way to hide our approach and make our jobs easier.

Margaux’s face kept invading my thoughts even in the short walk. There was a fire in her behind that pretty little exterior. A survivor. It reminded me of something. It reminded me of just exactly what had brought the four of us together as kids. We all had a fire that simmered just below the surface, waiting to burn down the world around us.

“You seem light with your fingers, Mark. How long did you think we wouldn’t notice?” Ronan had Mark’s head pressed cheek to metal on a table.

“I didn’t do it. I swear.”

I stepped around.

“Mark, Mark, Mark. If not you, then who?”

I grabbed his hand and laid it on the table right where he could see it.

“I don’t know. We’ve had some issues with the cops. The van almost got pulled over on its way here.”

I shifted my weight and he flinched as I dug a finger into a pressure point of his hand.

“Almost doesn’t mean did. And from what I’m seeing,” I paused and watched Knox finish going through the shipments, “it looks like we’re a crate short.”

Mark’s eyes were a little wider.

“How would you know? There’s no record on the number of crates expected. I asked. The supplier just got a cut, but the exact counts weren’t reported the last two times.”

Knox had his knife out even though he was done prying open each crate. There were eight in total and there should have been nine. Knox moved like a fucking ghost, and Mark had no warning as he slammed his knife into Mark’s hand.

Mark screamed, but there was no one here to care.

Three others remained kneeling next to us. One moved, and I pointed my gun at his head.

“Someone is going to tell us how we know there has been missing product even without a so-called count.”

We’d recently changed the way we had to get the painkillers here. Had to get more creative. Barone’s business models were mostly legal, but then there was this side of things. This side is what brought in the real cash.

“Alright, since Mark isn’t answering, let me enlighten you,” I said. “Each crate is marked. The fruit in them? All unique to the crate. We know the fruit that’s coming, you don’t. Why? Why wouldn’t we tell a lowly warehouse worker what we were expecting?”

I leaned over until I could meet him eye to eye. I watched his pupils dilate.

“I think he’s in shock. Fucking hell,” I said.

Just then the rain got louder, and when we looked over at the side door, it was evident why.

“Fucking Jett.”

He had Margaux’s arm in his hand and she was pulling him along all the same.

“Guys, I had to chase her down. She won’t stay in the car. Look at my damn eye!”