Page 66 of Pretty Lies

Della grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “Yeah, well … same to you, what are you doing here? Especially dressed like that.”

She didn’t say it to be rude; Jennika winked like she wasn’t offended.

The black, skin-tight cashmere dress hugged Jennika’s curves and clung in just the right ways to the rest of her body. It dipped low at the breast, and the hem of the skirt stopped above her knees and her knee-high, heeled leather boots.

That was the kind of shit they wore when they worked.

They didn’t work around here.

Jennika gave Della a sly smile—one she recognized. Whenever her friend found a man she liked, or reclaimed an already won conquest, she smiled exactly like that. “Oh, you know … fun stuff. And a bit of work, too. Later.”

What?

That’s not right, she thought.

Hadn’t J said …

“Are you sleeping with—”

“When you got a second,” Cory said, finally catching up with her and coming to stand behind Della, “then I’d really like to have a chat with you, yeah?”

He still sounded really pissed.

She probably deserved that.

Della didn’t get the chance to deal with Jennika or Cory because a familiar face popped out of the black metal door between the right and middle bay of the warehouse. Her brother called out, stopping the conversation entirely to say, “Didn’t know you were bringing a guest.”

His gaze swept over the people down the side of the street, her included.

Why wouldn’t she bring Cory?

He was her bodyguard at the moment.

Before she could come back with a smartass remark, J added with a wave to her specifically, “Get off the fucking street before you draw attention, Jesus.”

Della headed for the warehouse.

They could follow or not.

She came here for a reason.

It didn’t matter if she had more questions to ask … she came here for a conversation that she desperately needed to have. J was the one person she might be able to have it with and come out better for it. The rest? It could wait a minute. Not much longer, though.

•••

“What exactly is happening here? Or … out there,” Della corrected, nodding toward the closed office door. She considered what had been inside the warehouse.

Cars—a lot of them. Cardboard boxes piled high between each vehicle. Which probably made it hard to see anything through the dirty windows on the three-bay doors at the front of the building. Steering wheels with the front caps that had been popped off, a pile of airbags sat forgotten in the corner, and other than J, the place looked like a ghost town when it came to other people. Except for all the personal items she noticed here and there as she walked to the rear of the large building with her brother—other people were here. She just didn’t know where they were now or their purpose.

J glanced up from the papers on the desk as he sat down. “What do you think?”

“I don’t want to guess.”

“Drugs,” her brother explained, words clear and tone dry. “Pills, to be specific. Packaged bags get put in the steering wheel after the airbag and sensors are all removed. It’s transported across the border when it’s time. But because it only takes one person knowing—the wrong person—a crew of four or five handles each shipment to keep any talk at a minimum. If you get my drift.”

“Oh.”

J shrugged. “I’m only telling you right now because you’re here and you’ve seen it—if I gave you enough time, you’d put it together on your own.”