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I lean forward on the desk with my elbows, rest my chin on my clasped hands, and look directly at Enzo. “Send a team to wipe the warehouse and divert all incoming shipments to our dock on the north side. We own it, so we don’t risk pissing off Patrick even more if it gets hit. We’ll also need to clear some room in the airport warehouse to accommodate the additional load. Have Tony brought in to take point. Until it’s decided who will inherit Luke’s spot, he’ll do.” When Enzo nods, I ask. “Was the shipment claimed?”
“Thankfully, no.”
I sigh in relief. “That’s good.” It’s one less thing to worry about. Losing the supply is bad enough without the added trouble of an angry buyer.
Raphael’s right, though. The fire at Sinners was retaliation for killing Chang, but everything else the Triads have done makes little sense. It’s extremely unsettling fighting an enemy with no agenda. The recent attacks have been so random that it’s as if they’re simply drawing names and locations out of a damn hat.
I have a growing theory and can’t shake the sour taste it leaves in my mouth. That maybe the Triads appear to act without reason because they’re already getting exactly what they want. Tension building between the ruling High Table families. Anger and distrust tainting years of friendship and alliances that will eventually boil over into a war.
And if I’m right, our problems will be far worse than just stolen products and destroyed warehouses.
Every inch of Sinners is covered in creepy decorations like cobwebs and skeletons, making it feel like a haunted house. The fog machine emits a cloud of smoke that billows and creeps along the ground, creating the illusion that the dancers are floating. Halloween tends to be our most popular night of the year, and this year is no different. Since we re-opened Sinners a few months ago, the club has never been busier.
Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. Something about the atmosphere of the night attracts me. It’s the one time of the year when the world resembles the darkest parts of my mind, calling to me like a siren.
I lean forward, balancing my arms on the railing, and peer down at the eccentric crowd below. I wait to feel something. Anything. Desire. Temptation. But I feel nothing. And believe me, plenty of both can be found in Sinners tonight.
Rose disappeared months ago, but I can’t seem to move on. After a while, I stopped searching relentlessly for her when there was nothing to be found. But even now, nearly ten months later, I can’t bring myself to touch another woman, let alone have one touch me. And I’ve tried. Believe me. I’ve gone to the Playground a few times, hoping someone would tempt me, but not a single girl could compare to Rose. So I stopped going altogether, choosing instead to focus on the war at hand.
The damn temptress has a viselike grip on my cock without even knowing it. Sometimes it feels like she never even existed, but the panties tucked away in my nightstand prove otherwise.
PING
I dig my phone out of my suit jacket pocket and glance at the screen to see an email notification.
Subject line: Save her
All Hallows’ Eve Auction
All ages, genders, and ethnicities are available
Midnight Halloween
96 Industrial Park
Masks are mandatory.
$100k admittance fee.
Holy shit. It’s an invitation to a human trafficking auction.
Save her
The subject line makes a little more sense now. It’s a plea to save someone, but I’m not sure who. Warning bells ring in my head. Red flags wave. My mind shouts that this is a bad idea, but my gut screams that if I don’t go, I’ll live to regret it. And I always trust my gut. It led me to Rose all those months ago, and that was hands down the best choice I’ve ever made.
I check my watch. It’s a little after nine o’clock. There isn’t much time.
Save her
Enzo flops into the chair in front of my desk. “What the hell, man? I was about to be balls deep in this girl dressed up as this spicy little devil. You would have loved her. She’s with a friend dressed up as the sexiest angel I’ve ever seen, if you—”
“Shut up, Enzo.”
The blond crosses his arms over his chest and pouts. “Okay, fine, Mr. Grumpy. What’s so important then?”
I hand my phone to my friend. It’s open to the email. I watch him scan the content not once or twice but three times before his eyes go wide with understanding. He passes the phone to Raphael, who hands it back to me after he reads the email.
“What have you gotten yourself into, Michael?” Enzo demands, all earlier humor now gone. “Human trafficking? We don’t touch that shit with a ten-foot pole. None of the families do.”
