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I still don’t know what’s connected and what isn’t, but there’s something big, and I’m willing to bet a large chunk of my fortune that the Smith Group is involved.
The problem is getting real information on them.
But I’m a fucking stubborn man.
Spring break is coming up soon, and she’s not spending it here.
“Two minutes, Karlee.”
“Shut up!”
I grin. I shouldn’t. She’s the worst kind of brat. One that sparks unformed fantasies I don’t need. But I’ve always been a sucker for a brat. A submissive one, I correct myself. Not whatever the fuck she is.
Leaning against the wall, I wait and think about all the information I know.
There are supply blockades. Very small articles about vendors who are bitching about livelihoods, but I know what’s behind it. Cartel. Smacks of it. And with that comes price hikes on goods.
None of this affects the De Lucas, but things like this have a habit of exploding. And chances are they might. That doesn’t come from any feed. It’s straight from people talking and my team listening.
But we have to be careful. We’re fucking De Luca enforcers, not low-level muscle.
Her door opens, and she stands there like a half punk avenging angel. “Well, where are you taking me?”
Karlee examines the small residence. “You could use an upgrade in security. Smart house shit.”
“Smart house shit goes wrong,” I say, dumping her bags in the bedroom. There’s only one she won’t let me touch, and that’s her computer and paraphernalia.
I’m almost positive she didn’t need to bring the monitors, but she’s making a point, so I let her drag the three bags with her. Not my problem.
“Sometimes.”
“Look, this place is secure, very fucking secure. Don’t sneak the fuck out, you try it, you’ll be caught.”
She immediately looks up for hidden cameras. There’s not a lot of stuff here. This is more for safe house reasons than anything else. The very occasional guest. I probably don’t need it, but old habits are hard to break.
“No cameras, Karlee,” I mutter. “But no one comes or goes without me or my new security team knowing about it. I’ll introduce you to everyone. You don’t get an intro, you don’t go anywhere with them or open the door, get it?
“Yes.” She pushes out the word. “I’m a prisoner. I get it.”
I don’t argue.
Instead, I head to the kitchen living room combo and the front door, making short work of the locks on the steel-reinforced door.
“This is Wendy and Alan. This is Karlee. Karlee, they’re your ports of call when I’m not here.”
Wendy is the brightest of all the bodyguards Fallon and I employed in my previous life. If ever I need extra or someone to work adjacent, I call her. After all, she bought the business.
“Boss?” she asks, like old times. I smile and the temperature in the room, courtesy of Karlee, drops about twenty degrees. “Where do you want these?”
She and Alan hold grocery bags. Enough for an evening or two. Bare basics.
I look at Karlee and at them. “Counter, the little punk princess can put it all away how she desires.”
“I’m a vegan.”
“I’ll inform the pepperoni and sausage you ate on your pizza,” I say, grabbing an apple from the top of one of the bags. “She’s a vegan, so tofu from now on.”
Wendy doesn’t even try to hide her smile, and I’m sure Karlee wants to go sub-atomic ballistic.
