Page 109 of Unruly

“Grazie, my man.”

Miguel nodded. “When this is all over, someone better make sure I have a whole uninterrupted month with my wife.”

Cross dragged Catherine close to kiss her temple. “We can definitely do that, Miguel.”

Or, they would figure it out.

Once Miguel was heading for the hangar, Cross directed his wife to their waiting car.

“Figured out who was stealing clients, huh?” he asked.

Catherine grinned. “Yep, and guess what else?”

“What?”

“Made a deal with a cartel. Not the best deal, mind you. Profit margins will be a bit smaller, but it’s a start for now. Abril is open to renegotiations after a few payments go to her, and shipments go through without issue.”

“Wait, like a woman?”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

Cross made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat. Oddly, he wasn’t surprised, but he didn’t expect the news, either. It really wasn’t common to find a woman sitting in that kind of position given the job description and all.

“You ladies are killing it in the boss departments, huh?”

Catherine gave him a wink. “Yep, and don’t you forget it, either.”

How could he?

Once Cross was sure that Cece had fallen asleep in the bedroom of the brownstone meant for her, he went in search of his wife. It didn’t take him long to find Catherine. The yelling helped, honestly.

In the office downstairs—a room that only really had drapes, a desk, chair, and an empty bookshelf—Catherine talked on her cell phone.

Well, she talked.

Andino yelled.

At the sound of a man shouting at his wife, Cross’s irritation level instantly blew sky-high. Still, this was Catherine’s business. She didn’t step in on his. He didn’t step in on hers. That was their thing.

He kept telling himself that over and over again. It was not helping.

“No, do tell me, Catherine,” Andino snarled over the phone, “just how much more are we going to have to pay?”

“Andino, you’re not thinking long-term about—”

“Tell me!”

Catherine rubbed her temple with one hand, while she held the phone out in front of her face to speak in to the speaker. “About ten percent more.”

“Ten. Fucking ten.”

“You’re fucking lucky it wasn’t twenty or more, Andino,” Catherine snapped back. “And if you think you can waltz your stupid ass down to Mexico and get a better deal, I dare you to try.”

“I think I could, actually.”

“Then you’re a fool. Street price can remain the same. Profit margins will take a small hit. Who cares? We now have a stable, sure thing on a supplier. First shipment in two weeks.”

“Catherine—”