Page 17

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Dasha

It was the headache that woke me up sometime later, a little disoriented by the strange room and the only light coming from the purple glow of the TV across from the bed that had gone to screensaver mode.

It was the smell of cocoa and coffee that grounded me first. On the bed, on me, clinging to the man beside me.

Santo was still in sleep, his handsome face somehow just as masculine in the softness of rest. He was still wearing his clothes from earlier, though he’d undone a few shirt buttons, removed his belt, and set his watch on the nightstand.

Carefully, I slid off the bed, making my way into the bathroom, wincing at the harsh overhead light. I dug around in the cabinet and drawers until I found a bottle of acetaminophen to take for my aching head, then a spare toothbrush for my teeth.

I watched my unfamiliar reflection as I brushed, noting the way the bruises under my eyes, on my cheek, and my forehead had set in to darker shades of blue and purple. My nose looked a bit swollen too. And the band across my throat couldn’t be mistaken for anything but the outline of someone’s hand.

I had a pretty good hand at makeup, but even I wasn’t sure if I would be able to cover all the damage up. And some part of me really didn’t want to go back to work with proof of everything that happened to me right in everyone’s faces.

I especially didn’t want them to see if one of them was responsible for it. It was bad enough that they saw and heard and felt me at my lowest. It would be a power move to be able to walk back in there like nothing at all happened—and no evidence of it on my skin.

I rinsed and spit, then set my toothbrush in the drawer next to Santo’s before opening the door, getting a weird little tug in my chest at seeing it there. Like it belonged. Like maybe I did too.

Shaking off those thoughts, I reached down to slip off my borrowed pants. I’d been okay with wearing them with Santo’s family around, but I was so used to dresses that the material felt like it was, I don’t know, strangling me. Santo’s shirt was long enough to meet me mid-thigh, so I wasn’t being indecent or anything.

I folded them up and set them on the counter, then moved back out into the bedroom.

I hadn’t turned the light off when I opened the door and the brightness had Santo blinking awake, looking over.

“Sorry,” I whispered, turning the light off.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, holding up a hand so he didn’t get up. “Just wanted to brush my teeth.”

Santo reached out a hand, a silent invitation to come over to his side of the bed.

I slid my hand into his.

“Come here,” he said, pulling slightly until I moved to slip up onto the mattress.

Santo’s hands went to my hips, pulling down until my lap was on his.

A small gasp escaped me as I felt his hard length pressing against my cleft. There was nothing between us but his pants, and I couldn’t stop myself from grinding down onto him.

“I’m not asking for anything, baby,” he said, his fingers running lightly up and down my bare thighs. “Just can’t help how much I like being around you.”

My hips did another wiggle, making his hardness press against my clit. A whimper escaped me, and his fingers dug into my thighs reflexively.

“If I ask…” I said, hips rocking.

“Baby, you can have anything you want,” he said, his hands slipping toward my shirt, working each of my buttons free.

The material split down the center, and Santo took a slow, deep breath before pushing the material down from my shoulders, baring me completely.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. His hands slipped up my sides, then moved to cup my breasts.

A shiver spread through me at the touch, my nipples twisting into points against his palms.

There was no stopping my hips from writhing as his hands squeezed, as his fingers circled, rolled, and pinched.

His hands fell, but just so he could sit up and press his face between the swells, placing a kiss on my warm skin, then shifting his head to suck one of my nipples into his warm mouth.

My moans filled the room as he licked, sucked, and teased my desire to a painful point.

“Santo, please,” I begged, hips rocking restlessly.

“Not even close to being done with you yet.”

“I can’t take it,” I whimpered, bearing down harder on his cock. “Please,” I pleaded again. “I need you inside me.”

That rumbling sound moved through Santo as he sat back, his eyes liquid desire.

“Fuck, baby. If you need it that badly, take it,” he said, lying back and reaching into the nightstand for a condom.

I didn’t need another invitation.

My hands went down, working the rest of his shirt buttons free with quick fingers before undoing the button and zipper of his pants.

Greedily, I reached inside, closing my hand around his thick cock, and pulling it out.

My thumb teased across the head, making his body jerk and his eyes go half-closed.

“Santo,” I whimpered. “I need you now.”

He ripped open the foil and quickly protected us before holding his cock at the base, waiting for me to rise up and take him in.

Some part of me wanted to take it slow, to really get wrapped up in him for hours.

But the second I felt him slide inside me, there was no reasoning with my desire. I rode him hard and fast, driving myself to that edge.

“That’s it,” Santo said, fingers digging into my hips as my walls tightened around him. “Come for me.”

Just like that, I did, crying out in his quiet house as the pleasure coursed through me again and again.

“No, baby,” he said as I leaned forward into him, my face in his neck. “We’re not done yet.”

Sure enough, he was still rock-hard inside me. And before I could even fully come down from the orgasm, his hips were rocking up into me.

He somehow managed to take me from one orgasm toward another in a few short moments.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he groaned in my ear as his hips moved faster and faster.

“Santo, I—” I broke off on a cry as another orgasm crashed through me.

Santo threw his weight, rolling me under him, and fucking me through the orgasm, leaving me gasping and then moaning as he fucked me harder and deeper, the headboard knocking against the wall.

It didn’t seem possible, but he sent another orgasm shooting through my body, my cries filling the room as Santo slammed deep and came with me.

“Definitely like you not needing to be quiet,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before rolling to the other side.

The bed rocked as he got up and moved into the bathroom.

By the time he came out—as gloriously naked as I was—I was sitting up and trying to look up at the wall. “I think we damaged the wall,” I told him, face scrunched up.

“Worth it,” he said, coming into the bed and reaching to pull me onto his chest. “You feeling alright? Probably should have been gentler with you.”

“No. That was exactly how I wanted it. I’m fine. I had a little headache earlier, so I took some acetaminophen. So I’m feeling pretty good.”

“Happy to hear that. You still a little dizzy?”

“I think that passed. It was probably from not eating. And the adrenaline.”

“Good. Lucky reminded me to offer to have our cousin Lettie come over and check you out if you want.”

“Is she a doctor?”

“Not technically. But she has a lot of training. She works as the family doctor. Even handled a gunshot wound or two.”

“Oh, wow. I mean… I’ll get checked out if you think I need to. But I really think I’m okay. What I really need is a cosmetician to tell me what makeup to use to fix all of this,” I said, waving at my face.

“I’m sure we can look that up.”

“I don’t want the guys at the garage to see me like this.”

“I get that. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” But there was something in his tone that had my belly tightening.

“Why does it seem like you suspect it’s one of the guys at the shop? Have they been giving you a harder time than you’ve mentioned?”

“No. I mean, yes. But that’s not really it.”

“Dasha, you can talk to me,” he said, his hand drifting lazily up and down my bare arm. “As your paid protector, if that’s what you’re more comfortable with. Or as a man who cares about you and wants to help. Either way.”

“How about both?” I asked, sitting up, taking the bedsheet with me to cover myself.

Santo sat up against the headboard and reached to flick on the light. “I can be that. What’s going on?”

“I don’t even know where to start,” I admitted, reaching up to rake a hand through my hair.

“Easiest part first?”

“I’m not sure any of this is easy. But I will start with the less complicated part first. When I first got to the shop and started looking over the books and receipts, it was immediately clear that something wasn’t right.”

“In what way?”

“Well, for example, the price of an oil change is very different car to car.”

“Not to imply you don’t know your business, but don’t different cars cost different amounts? Bigger cars need more oil, right?”

“That’s just the thing, though. Sometimes, a very small car is charged almost twice as much as a much larger car.”

“Alright, yeah. That makes no sense.”

“I tried to think of all different reasons for the discrepancies. For example, maybe different mechanics charge more or something like that. But the closer I looked, the more widespread it seemed to be. All of the mechanics have charges that make no sense.”

Santo was silent for a second. “How far back have you checked the books? Was it like this when your uncle was still running things?”

“As far as I can tell, yes.”

“Have you confronted any of the mechanics about this?”

“I did ask Ren one day about it. But once I realized it was all of them, it seemed pointless to single anyone out.”

“Could there be a glitch with the computer syst—no?” he asked when I shook my head.

“They don’t use a computer. Everything is handwritten. Receipts too. They still use carbon copy receipts.”

“Hmm.”

“Exactly.”

Santo looked over at me, his keen eyes watching me for a moment. “Why do I get the feeling that’s not all?”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Okay. What else you got?”

“Remember my uncle’s storage unit?”

Santo’s eyes warmed. “Yeah, baby. I remember that unit well.”

He looked seconds away from pushing me on my back, burying between my thighs, and recreating the scene from the unit.

Despite being wholly satisfied already, a twinge of desire grew once more.

“Well, it turns out that my uncle had more than one storage unit.”

“That makes sense, for such a packrat. The one we saw was probably just his newer one, right?”

“Well, it was the newer one, yeah. But…”

Santo’s head tipped as he watched my discomfort. “Baby, do I need to remind you that I literally pay for this house through illegal means? Whatever it is, you don’t have to hesitate to tell me.”

“So I realized that most of the keys on that big ring I had of his—“

It was then that I remembered my purse falling, the contents spreading.

“Whoa. What is it?” Santo asked when I all but leapt off the bed, grabbing my shirt and putting it on, but not bothering with the buttons.

“My purse. Where’s my purse?” I remembered seeing it in the car. Santo had grabbed it. But what if it had already been gone through? What if it was gone?

“Baby, wait,” Santo called, grabbing a pair of sleep pants out of a drawer and tripping as he tried to put them on and rush after me at the same time.

“Where is it?” I asked, running down the steps.

“Slow down. You shouldn’t be running. It’s in the kitchen,” he called as I rushed toward the living room.

By the time I made it into the kitchen, Santo and his long legs had caught up to me. He flicked on the light and, sure enough, there my purse was on the table.

I grabbed it with frantic hands, dumping the contents on the tabletop, then reaching inside, finding the staple I’d used to close the hidden compartment was ripped off.

I shoved my hand into the rip in the lining, not feeling like I could draw a breath until my hand closed around the new keyring.

“Thank God,” I sighed, eyes closing as I took a few steadying breaths.

It was then that Santo grabbed my shoulders, turning me and kicking up my chin with his thumb.

“Now I really need to know what is going on with those units.”

I nodded as I dropped down on the kitchen chair, putting the keys down on the table so I could slowly button my shirt again.

“I found out that my uncle had the paperwork—and keys—for twelve separate storage units.”

“Jesus,” Santo said, leaning back against the island, watching me. “Maybe we should call one of those reality TV shows—I’m joking, sweetheart,” he said as my heart plummeted. The horror must have reflected in my face as well. “Did you go to the other units?”

“I went to one.”

“Okay. Why just the one?”

“Well, it was a project to get access. But that’s… okay. I got in, then unlocked the unit, and the inside looked just like the one we went to. Except this one had more plastic containers.”

“Getting the feeling that there’s something not great in those containers.”

“They’re full of drugs.” There. I said it. It was out there. I couldn’t take it back. And, honestly, I felt like a hundred-pound boulder was lifted from my shoulders.

“Drugs?” Santo sounded dubious.

“I pulled down a plastic container and it had a bunch of clear bags full of off-white powder,” I explained. “I mean, I’m not an ATF agent or anything, but… what else could it be, right?”

“Hmm,” Santo said, brows pinching.

“Hmm, what?”

“I’m just trying to make it make sense, is all.”

“What part doesn’t make sense?”

“The part where your uncle lived in a run-down house full of crap. Maybe if you came across a load of cash stashed somewhere, I’d buy this story at surface level. But where’s the money? If we are assuming all of the units are full of drugs as well, that’s… millions. Maybe even tens or hundreds of millions.”

“What?”

“How heavy was the container? Roughly? Ten pounds? More?”

“Maybe fifteen or twenty?”

“So one container would be worth an estimated… million. Give or take. The unit had how many containers?”

“Ten?”

“Ten,” he said, sucking in a breath that expanded his bare chest in a very distracting way. “If they all had the same amount of drugs… that’s ten million. In one unit.”

“And if there are ten other units still…”

The quick math in my head made me suddenly dizzy.

“Did your uncle have any evidence of a gambling problem? Old receipts from the racetracks? Chips from a casino? Maybe a bunch of sports channels on the TV? Even weird shit?”

“No. Nothing like that. He had a cable package, but it just had basics.”

“I have to ask this, even if it might be upsetting.”

“Okay…”

“Was there any evidence of a drug habit? Needles? Burnt or bent spoons? Powder residue?”

“He definitely liked his beer,” I told him. “He had a lot of beer in his fridge. But just that. I only found one random old bottle of vodka in the basement, looking like it hadn’t been seen since the ‘90s.”

“Okay. So, he’s probably not an addict himself or a gambler. What about his financial situation? Was the house paid off? If so, when? What about the garage?”

“He just paid off the house right before he died. The garage is… doing okay. I feel like, with how busy we are, there should be more leftover. We’re just barely making it.”

“What about his spending? I don’t know if he kept his receipts for—”

“He kept receipts for everything. And he always paid in cash, it seems. He really was a Luddite.”

“Hmm,” he said again, clearly knowing something I didn’t. “Okay. What was his spending? Did he eat out a lot? Did he have receipts for any kind of travel?”

“Actually, it seems like he ate out constantly. I mean… there was no real food in the house. Just the beer and some ice cream. As for travel…”

“What is it?” he asked when I felt my eyes go round.

“He had several receipts, going back maybe a year or two… I don’t remember now because I didn’t think anything of it. But he had several receipts for orders from Mexico.”

“What kind of receipts?”

“For shipping containers. They were marked as car parts, but—”

“The powder in the bags,” he cut me off. “Was it more like powdered sugar? Light and fluffy looking? Or was it a little more crystalline, like sugar? It would be shinier if it was crystalline too.”

“Oh,” I said, racking my brain. I’d been so shocked that I just assumed it was fine powder. But… it had been kind of shiny. “I think it might have been shiny. Why?”

“If the car parts came from Mexico, or anywhere in South America, the powder was likely crystalline and, therefore, cocaine, not heroin. Heroin would have come from the Golden Triangle in Asia. But for a shipping container to come in with car parts hiding loads of drugs, it would have specifically come from Thailand, since it’s the only area with a thriving automotive industry.”

“Wow. I should have just asked you instead of trying to research anything myself, huh?”

“You didn’t search on your phone, did you?”

“I’m no savvy criminal, but I’m not dumb. I used the library computer.”

“Better. Not perfect, but better.”

“What does it matter if it was heroin or cocaine?”

“Right now, heroin has a slightly higher street value than cocaine. It’s still potentially an insane amount of drugs. But it’s good to know exactly what we’re dealing with. When was the last time you saw a shipment receipt?”

“I don’t remember. It wasn’t long before he passed. It was close to the top of his pile.”

“Okay. What about what port it came in through? Was it New York?”

“No. No, it was the port here.”

“Wait,” he said, standing straight, shoulders squaring. “The port here? In Navesink Bank?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because that’s my Family’s port.”

“Oh. Okay. Is that… bad?”

“It’s… not good. We do a lot of legit business through the port. But for those who want to import less-than-legal shit, they owe us a fee. And since we already worked with Phil, we would have known he was bringing in illegal shit if he’d told us.”

“Oh. So… so my uncle was screwing you guys over?”

“To be fair, there’s a small chance he didn’t know that. Very small. But it’s possible. Hey, don’t look so worried. We’re not gonna hold you responsible for your uncle’s actions. I’m just… trying to get all the facts.”

“I can give you all the receipts, if that helps.”

“I’d like to know the car parts company for sure. I can look up shipments and shit like that on our end.”

“Okay. We can go to my place whenever.”

He nodded at that, glancing at the clock on the stove, then moved to start making a pot of coffee.

“Hey, question,” he said, glancing over at the keyring on the table.

“Shoot.”

“Is that the same keyring? The one you had last time?”

“No. No, I took all of the padlock keys off of the other ring and put them on this one. Then I hid it in a slit in the lining of my purse. Why?”

The rich scent of coffee filled the kitchen as he brought down two mugs.

“I think someone was looking for the keys. I’m assuming they thought the place was empty. And they were going to search your office. Maybe they realized the keyring was different.”

“Oh,” I said, things starting to click together. “Hey, Santo…”

“Yeah?”

“When you were at my house and we heard that tumble…”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t leave that garage door open. I couldn’t even get the garage door open.”

To that, he exhaled hard. “Someone was in your house.”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Likely looking for the keys or info about the units. Baby, can I ask a really indelicate question?”

“Sure,” I said as he poured two cups of coffee, then brought mine over to the table.

“How did your uncle die?”

“Oh. Um, well, they said it was likely a heart attack. He died in his truck parked right outside of work. Someone found him there the next morning.” Santo turned away to bring sugar, half I’ll be fine.”

“How would you even move it?”

“In a moving truck,” he admitted. “Wearing gloves and masks and hoods.”

“Where would you keep it?”

“In a shipping container at the docks. We keep a few unclaimed containers around just in case we ever need to have somewhere to store some shady shit while still having plausible deniability.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m positive. I’m not going to get caught. Neither will anyone else. And all we will need from you are the codes to the gates and the keys.”

“I have some of the codes. Others, though, I might have to go to the office to get passcodes.”

“Okay. Well, we will start with the ones where we have access. We can worry about the others after.”

“This all sounds like… a lot. My head is spinning.”

“We’re gonna take it one step at a time. Today, I have Dom and Dante putting up cameras in your office and the waiting room. They should be at the store now.”

“Shouldn’t I be there then?”

“That’s up to you.”

“I think I should be there. Let whoever it is know that I’m not scared.”

To that, he nodded.

“Guess you should start looking up what kind of makeup we need to pick up… while I make you breakfast.”