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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Santo

“Jesus Christ,” Luca said, standing on Dasha’s driveway with me.

Dasha was inside trying out her new makeup, getting dressed, and packing bags to come back to my place for the foreseeable future.

We’d made it over to her place after a trip to the pharmacy for the makeup guaranteed to even cover up tattoos and spent an hour gathering all of the most important paperwork—everything to do with the shipping containers, storage units, the mortgage for the house, and the business. It was all sitting in a box in my trunk to bring back to my place and pore over later.

Once we’d finished with that, though, I told her I needed to fill in my boss while she got everything she needed gathered.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“That could potentially be… a hundred million in drugs.”

“I know.” I’d redone the math in my head over and over, sure I was calculating wrong. In the end, though, that was the exact sum if the other storage units featured the same amount of cocaine.

“Why so many units, though? If there are only a few boxes in each?”

“I was wondering that too. But when I saw the paperwork, it’s because they’re scattered all through the state. My best guess is Phil had dealers in different areas, so he opened the units closer to each of them to limit how much driving around he—or they—would be doing with the drugs on them.”

“Alright. That makes more sense. Christ, I can’t believe he was running this big of an operation under our noses.”

“I know,” I agreed. “And that he lived like this,” I said, waving toward the house. “I get living under the radar when you’re doing illegal shit, but he could have at least kept the place up.”

“Yeah, I mean, I wouldn’t say anything to Dasha, but that foundation is cracked. If he was sitting on a hundred mill, why not fix that before it becomes a bigger problem?”

“So much of this doesn’t make sense.”

“What is your end game here?” Luca asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Say you figure out who hurt Dasha. You handle that. She’s in the clear. What is the plan? Does Dasha become a drug kingpin? What does she want to happen to all that cocaine?”

I’d had similar thoughts all through sorting the paperwork alongside her.

Nothing about Dasha said she would be comfortable becoming a drug dealer. But she was sitting on a shit ton of product. It wasn’t like she just had a baggie or two to flush down the toilet and wash her hands of it all.

“I mean, I guess it depends on what kind of deal Phil had going on with whoever was supplying. Did he pay up front? Does he owe installment payments as he moves the product? Either way, the only way this product goes away is if it gets sold.”

“I agree,” Luca said. “Cocaine is easier for us than heroin for that matter. We got a major cocaine dealer right here in town.”

That was true.

Richard Lyon was the biggest cocaine dealer on the coast. He funneled his illegal money through everything from clothing stores to a luxury car dealership. If anyone would know how to handle the situation, it was him. And while he wasn’t exactly an ally of our Family, we did have an ‘in’ to him through the biker club in town who were our allies. The club president’s father-in-law was Richard Lyon. If or when we needed to have a sit-down with the man, we had a way to get that arranged.

“And if there are still strings to the cartel where the drugs came from, Lyon would know how to handle that too,” I said.

“Yeah,” Luca said, nodding. “Alright. So what is the plan today? She’s hellbent on going to work?”

“She is. But I have Massimo bringing his car in to get a bunch of bullshit work done. That he is going to insist on waiting around for. So Dasha won’t be alone while Dom, Dante, and I clear out the closest storage units and get them into a shipping container.”

“Alright. Sounds like you got it all worked out. I want updates on this, though. This could turn ugly fast.”

“Every step of the way,” I assured him before watching him climb in his car and take off.

My gaze scanned the street but saw nothing unusual.

“Okay. Be honest,” Dasha called, making me turn. “Can you see the bruises?”

My gaze slid over her face and neck, knowing exactly how rough she looked before applying the makeup. But the reviews of that makeup were right—it covered just about everything.

“I think there might be a slight shadow under your eyes, but it comes off more like being a little sleepless,” I told her, taking the duffle bag from her hand, then the small suitcase from the other.

“Good. I was really following a video I found online. Glad it worked.”

“Are you sure this is all you want to bring?” I asked as I stored the bags in my trunk. “Got a big ol’ house to store anything you want.”

“I didn’t really bring much with me from Washington. Just clothes. Essentials. I packed everything I thought I could possibly use for a week or two.”

“We can always pop back. I just don’t want you realizing you need something last minute.”

“I’m all set,” she assured me.

“You ready to head into work, then?” I asked. I kept my tone light even if my gut twisted at the idea of her being there without me.

I trusted Mass. With my life. But I wanted to be able to keep an eye on her myself.

“Yep,” she agreed, exhaling hard. “Is your brother there?”

“Got a text a minute ago that he was pulling in. And all the cameras are up.”

I opened Dasha’s door, and she slid in. “What am I going to say?” she asked.

“About what? Nothing happened, remember?”

“Right.” She nodded. “My car is there, though.”

“It didn’t start.” I was good at coming up with a believable lie; sometimes my line of work demanded that skill. “So you had a friend come pick you up.”

“I don’t have any friends.”

There was a sad twinge to her words that I wanted to erase. I would, I assured myself, with time. My friends and family would become hers. She wouldn’t feel so alone anymore.

“Have you ever expressly stated that to your employees?”

“No. I really… don’t talk to them at all.”

“Good. Then you got a ride from a friend. Maybe you even stayed at their house, explaining why you’re later than usual today.”

“Right. Good. Okay. I got it.”

“I know you want to show your face. I get that. But just… hang in your office or the waiting room as much as possible, okay? I don’t want to take any chances with you.”

I pulled the car to a park out front of the repair shop. Before she could slide out, I wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her close, and pressing my lips to hers.

It quickly started to get hot and heavy as her lips responded and little mewling sounds vibrated against my lips.

“Okay. Gonna need to stop now before I pull away, take you back to my place, and spend the entire day fucking you instead of getting all the shit we had planned done.”

“Fiiiine.” Her face and chest were flushed with her desire. “But only if you promise we can finish that later.”

“Baby, you can have me any way you want me.”

With a sweet little smile, she climbed out and walked toward the front door. I idled, watching the way she paused and took a steadying breath before reaching for the door handle.

I hated knowing she was going back to the literal scene of the crime on her own. But the last thing we wanted was for anyone at the shop to know about us. If it was one of her employees who’d attacked her, if they were watching her, and they’d seen her getting too chummy with my Family, they might escalate.

Watching Mass stand and look out the front window, giving me a subtle nod, I forced myself to pull off.

Dom, Dante, and I all met at the docks, knowing it was the only place where we didn’t have to worry about surveillance as we put fake plates on a moving truck that we’d bought at an auction years before.

We each took turns going into the office building to change into throwaway sweats. We donned baseball caps with large brims and sunglasses. We put on gloves. Then we piled into the truck and drove to the unit that Dasha had been to herself.

“I honestly thought maybe she was exaggerating or mistaken,” Dante said as he uncapped one of the totes to reveal the bricks of cocaine once we had them safely in the back of the truck. “And it’s all of them,” he said, uncapping tote after tote to check.

We took the totes to the dock, checked the time, then made our way to the next unit that we had the passcode to the gate for.

Inside, we found the exact same setup as the previous units. Metal storage shelves. Black and yellow garage totes. Every one of them had, roughly, a million in street value in them.

We’d moved four units’ worth of product into the shipping container before we had to call it a day.

“What is this, all said and done?” Dom asked as we stood at the mouth of the unit, looking at the totes.

“Thirty mil? Give or take,” I said.

It was a huge sum of money. Even to us, who were used to doing multi-million-dollar deals.

“And there’s another thirty or so left? Maybe more?” Dante asked, whistling. “You’re dating a rich woman,” he said, shooting me a smile.

As much as I loved the idea that Dasha could see herself sitting on a pile of money, I had a sinking feeling it wasn’t going to be as easy as that.

We closed and secured the unit, took turns changing back into our suits, changed the plates of the truck back, got rid of our clothes from the day, and then all went our separate ways.

I made a quick stop at the grocery store, intent on making Dasha a home-cooked meal, like the one that had gotten ruined the night before.

When Mass texted that his car was done and that Dasha had pretended to fiddle under the hood of her car to get it to work, so she could leave as well, I rushed through the checkout and made my way home to meet her.

I managed to get in and put away the food before she was knocking on the back door.

As soon as I swung it open, she practically fell into me, arms wrapping around me, exhaling a deep breath it seemed like she’d been holding all day.

“You okay?” I asked, running my hand down her hair with one hand while the other held her tight.

“Just a long day, and I’m really, really happy to be home.”

Fuck.

I wasn’t prepared for how good it felt to hear her call my place home. Even if, objectively, I knew she just meant it as a turn of phrase.

If I had it my way, I would be all too happy to have her move in and never leave.

Even if it was maybe a little too early to admit that aloud to her.