Page 12 of Effortless

So far, those enforcers had never needed to step in for Camilla. Other than the few times the men had taken her to a safe house when issues came up with other organizations her father dealt with, she didn’t see them. She hadn’t even known their names until a couple of years ago when she first moved out of her parents’ home.

Sure, being a woman meant Camilla wasn’t supposed to know details about the criminal organization her father ran, and her brother participated in. She was far from dumb.

Observant.

Quiet when needed.

Not, however, stupid.

“Make sure you’re not late for classes on Monday,” her mother said.

“I won’t.”

Like they even had to worry at all about that.

Camilla emptied the last bit of Pinot Noir from her glass while waving for her brother’s friend—Zeke—to grab her another. Cross had always been clear on the rules when Camilla partied. Be safe. Never drink from a glass you didn’t pour or see poured, or a drink taken from someone she couldn’t explicitly trust.

She trusted Zeke.

Turning her back to the loud music pumping through the Odessa beach house, Camilla tried to focus on her phone call.

“Give me all the details,” she demanded.

“Damn, I can’t even hear you very well.”

Camilla cursed under her breath, but headed out the back exit of the house where a few people had gathered to drink, and smoke. The heady scent of weed clung in the air, but she focused on her conversation with August.

“Details,” Camilla said when the music was all but a deep murmur at her back. “Give me them.”

“It went good. Basically a what’s what, and the stuff I’ll be doing.”

“That’s good, right?”

“I got the impression my main job is to keep Brock Darling’s specialty coffee full all day.”

Camilla barked out a laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“Not really.”

“Ugh.”

“We’ll see how it goes. It’s a high energy environment. They started the magazine a few months ago, too, so there are some opportunities for me to learn there. Everybody made it seem like Brock isn’t hard to work for.”

“That’s a plus.”

The music blasted louder behind Camilla as someone came out of the house.

“Where are you?” August asked.

“Zeke’s place.”

“Your brother there, too?”

“Not yet. You wanna come and party?”

August made a sad noise. “Can’t. Someone’s going to need their coffee at eight sharp tomorrow morning.”

“He doesn’t do church?”