“Shut up,” three different voices mutter.
“Get down here,” Gray orders. “Now.”
Evlynne is not happy to be relegated to sniper duty. When we descend the ladder, we find her standing at the bottom, wearing a murderous expression.
“If anything happens to Gray,” she warns.
“It won’t,” I promise.
She scales the ladder with her rifle, and we head toward the waiting vehicle. When we reach the other warehouse, I leave my long-range rifle in the back seat and accept the assault rifle that Gray passes to me.
Xavier looks between us, scowling. “If you expect me to walk into a smuggler’s lair unarmed, you’re fucking crazy.”
Gray unholsters the handgun on his hip and hands it to Xavier. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic.”
Outside, Gray leads the way. The ground beneath our boots is damp and dirty concrete that turns to gravel as we slip through an alleyway between two warehouses. Most of the doors I see are rusted shut. We creep past them all, finally coming to a stop in front of an unmarked door. Slate gray, thick steel. Despite the rust on it, the hinges look brand-new.
Gray presses his knuckles against the door, giving a slow knock followed by two fast ones.
Several seconds tick by before the door opens with a low groan, and a man appears. He’s short and burly, with a harsh face devoured by a dark beard and bushy hair. He has the kind of suspicious eyes that you need to survive in the Point’s seedy underbelly, and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t smiled a day in his life.
Gray nods at him. “Shamus.”
“Blake.”
He lets us in, the door creaking shut behind us. The minty odor of euca and tobacco clings to his dark coat. It’s all I can smell as we follow Shamus deeper into the warehouse, which is lit by pale bulbs that flicker above our heads. Shadows dance over wooden crates that are stacked all the way to the ceiling.
“Smuggler’s paradise,” I whisper to Xavier.
He sighs. “Silver Elite was trying to find his caches for years. But he’s got a great system in place. He moved the product so fast, we’d always show up too late.”
“Jas is back here.” Shamus’s voice is a deep baritone and full of gravel.
We walk through the rows of crates toward a dusty area in the back of the warehouse. I see a desk with a holoscreen and tablet, and a big leather chair where Jasper sits, looking way too comfortable in the shadows.
He grins at the sight of us, leaning back in his chair. “Good to see you again, Lieutenant.”
“Likewise.” Xavier glances around, eyes gleaming. “You got any contraband I can sample? Preferably a nice glass of glenshade?”
“Nah, nothing interesting. It’s all canned stuff. But I’ll let you know when the next shipment comes in.”
“Seriously?” Gray looks between the two. “This is why you requested Ford? To talk about contraband? You realize he’s your enemy, right?”
“Everyone is my enemy,” Jasper replies with a shrug. “So. Why are you here, Gray?”
Gray gets right to the point. “We need a favor.”
“I don’t do favors. I do deals. And only deals I get the better end of.”
“Trust me, this one is going to be very beneficial to you. We want an audience with the Faithful camp leaders, and we know you can make those introductions.”
“Why would I do that? They’re some of my best customers.” Jasper rolls his eyes. “What do I possibly gain by putting their lives in danger and disclosing their locations?”
“You help to take the Company down, for one. And if we succeed in doing that, the Authority is offering you a seat on the council.”
“Nah. You know I don’t want any part of your cause. I’m busy.”
