Page 25 of Deja Brew


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She swallowed hard before answering.

“Someone else picked up my shipment.”

“Fuck,” I hissed.

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure it wasn’t one of them?” I asked.

“It was a woman. Or, at least, it looked like a woman. With a light purple wig.”

“Like your hair before you changed it,” I said, looking at her multicolors.

“Yes. She was really close to how I look. If I didn’t know it wasn’t me, I’d likely be fooled. The guys at the freight pick-up sure were. Told me there was nothing they could do. So here I am. In debt to a cartel for about half a million dollars, just waiting to be picked up, tortured, and murdered.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” I said.

“Um, I’m pretty sure it is,” she said. “I’ve considered running. But I don’t have that kind of money.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” I told her. “I’ll help you,” I added.

“Help me… what?” she asked, shaking her head. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“Don’t be so sure about it. Which dock was it? The one here?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

“Damn.”

“What?” she asked, brows pinching.

“If it was these docks, that would make life easier. They’re run by the local mafia family. The Grassis. They’re… friendly with my family. I could have gotten access to their cameras. And they have a fuckton of them.”

“Oh, that’s… news,” she said, eyes a little round.

It wasn’t surprising that it was new information for her.

In general, most people in Navesink Bank didn’t know exactly how many criminal enterprises there were around.

The Navesink Bank Henchmen, a crew of bikers who ran guns.

The Grassi mafia.

The Mallick family, who were loan sharks and enforcers.

There was the paramilitary operation up on the hill.

Then there were the dozen or more independent crews.

My old man was an enforcer for hire almost all of my life, only slowing down more recently.

“It was the smaller dock about an hour from here. I don’t know why, but that was where the shipment had to come in to.”

“Probably something to do with the cartel. Alright. I’ll get on this for you,” I told her.

“Get on it… how?”

“First, I can get the feed from those cameras at the docks. Maybe get a plate. Then follow that to an owner. If they’re stupid enough not to have fake plates, that is.”

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