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“She better fucking stay there; she’s as stubborn as Nesrin,” Damien says as he rolls his eyes in frustration, but he doesn’t look at me. Instead, his focus is on the screen. He’s probably working on Thorne Industry documents, so I just offer him a slap on the shoulder when I pass by him.
“She will. See you later.”
Pulling up outside the shop I know Genevieve works at, I shut off the engine and exit the vehicle. It doesn’t take long to find Harris, and I head toward him.
“What’s going on?”
“She’s been working, nobody hanging around beside me,” he informs me. “I called up our contact at the FBI; they’re going to make a move on Manny. I gave them everything we found, even the confession from Paulo. He’s waiting on a call from his team.”
“So the bastards will possibly be arrested before we even leave here?” I ask, wondering if that will truly be the end of our fight with the goddamned cartel. Manny was a dick, but he didn’t strike me as a leader of anything. Yes, he was all talk, showing off his guns, bringing in guys, and clearly getting the better of us in the fight, but there was something off about him.
“Let’s hope so,” Harris tells me before I head into the shop. The door causes the bell to tinkle at our entrance, and Gen glances up before offering a smile.
“Cass,” she says, coming around the counter to hug me. It’s a one-armed, friendly hug, and I’m thankful she’s given up on trying to get into my bed. For a long while, Damien would take a bite of the red apple, but once Nesrin walked into his life, that all changed. Quickly.
I take her in, noting there are no scars, no bruises. “Are you okay?”
“Of course, why?” she asks, and I can’t stop my assessment of her. Pupils aren’t dilated; she looks alert as if she’s had a fairly normal morning. Except she now has us in her shop.
“There’s just been a threat hanging around Thorne Haven. He’s targeting women,” I tell her honestly. I would never be able to lie to Gen; she can smell bullshit a mile away.
“Honestly, I haven’t seen shit go down in this town for a long time. Last night I was in bed by eight, and this morning, I was up late, racing to work. When I got in, I only had Hadley here, but there hasn’t been anything out of the ordinary happening.”
“You, in bed by eight?” I tease, a chuckle vibrating my chest. Gen has always been a party girl. She opened the shop a few years ago when her folks died, but other than that, she’s always enjoyed her drink, her late nights, and company for the evening who she then discards as soon as the sun rises.
“Shockingly,” she says with a smile. “If I see anything off, I’ll give you a call, Cass. Thanks for checking up on me.”
“No problem.” I turn to walk out of the shop, but Gen calls to me, stopping me before I reach the door.
“How is Kalyn doing?”
I didn’t think they were friends or even liked each other. Most girls in town don’t get along with Gen. But her concern is welcome. “She’s doing better. It’s not easy for her to be here with her folks in LA.”
“I meant…” Gen shakes her head. “How is she doing with the drugs?”
Sighing, I shrug. “One day at a time, I guess,” I tell her. There’s nothing more I can say. It’s not something that you can just get over. Even though the pain killers I took earlier have done their job, it’s not the same for Kaly. “But I’m with her, so she’s not alone.”
“She’s lucky to have you, Cass.”
“I know.” I wink when she laughs out loud. “See you around.” When I step out into the rain that’s started pelting down, I find Harris on his phone. I gesture for him to slip into the passenger seat of my car to get out of the rain while I slide into the driver’s side.
“Okay. That’s good news. Thank you for letting me know,” he says into the speaker, and I find relief washing through me. It must be Manny being locked up tight; that’s good news because I can’t imagine anything else fitting into that category right now.
I pull out my phone and tap out a message to Finn to let him know Gen is fine. They’ve been fairly close over the years, so I know he’ll be worried. By the time I slip my phone back into my pocket, Harris has hung up his call.
“They got Manny at the pier,” he tells me. “Looks like he’s been docked down there for a few weeks. They’ve found a few girls stowed away.”
“Do I want to know more about that?” I ask, my fingers curling around the steering wheel as anger takes hold of me.
