“You said you’re coming to me this time as a man. Who would you have come to me as the next time?” There is laughter in his eyes. He wants me to believe this is playful banter. But I can see past bullshit. He’s asking a legitimate question, so I’ll answer him honestly.
“A Saint.”
His brow furrows at my reply.
Turning around, I walk away. Ghost is standing at the door watching me. He holds the glass door open for me as I get close.
“You think he’s going to listen?” Ghost asks as we step outside into the chilly fall air.
I button my suit jacket and then place my shades over my eyes. “I actually hope he doesn’t.”
Ghost laughs as we make our way over to the SUV.
My Tom Ford Oxfords crunch over the debris underneath my feet. I stuff my hands down into my front pockets. As I scan my Greenbriar warehouse, my demeanor is calm. On the outside I’m cool and composed, on the inside I’m counting down in my head like a fucking Sesame Street character.
Five million dollars’ worth of guns, ammunition, and other weapons has been destroyed.
The news will report a fire at an empty warehouse. That’s what money and connections can get you. Truth is, I have a shit ton of product that can no longer sell.
“All clear. The last fire truck and police officer have left the area along with the news crews. Everyone has been paid.” Ghost says as he and Roc approach me. “And as of right now, the entire area is cleared.”
One reason I use warehouses so far away from the city and away from any other residents is because of this very reason. The fewer people I have around, the better.
Nodding my head, I scan over the charred walls, exposed pipes, broken frames and the opening in the roof.
“What are you thinking?”
I turn to Ghost. “All this destruction. For what?”
“Your attention?”
“Nothing was taken,” Roc points out. “The guys said everything appears to be accounted for so far.”
Walking through the rubble are some of my men. The ones in charge of this warehouse are huddled together in a corner.
I toss my head in their direction. “What did they say?”
With one hand over his chest and the other resting on top of it, Ghost rubs his chin. “This warehouse isn’t on rotation until next month. There were no drop-offs or pickups scheduled. This was a dead site. This space held only twenty crates. If someone were going to rob us, it would’ve been the perfect opportunity. The guards were changing shifts, the workers were on break, so they had ample time.”
“Yet they didn’t take anything,” Roc says, looking around at the scene.
“Because this wasn’t about robbing me. This was about cutting me off at the knees.”
Ghost’s gaze narrows. “He’s blocking your money. Which is why the last shipment was tossed in the fucking ocean and not taken.”
Running a hand down my face, I try to ease some of the tension in my neck by turning my head from side to side.
The words in that first letter come back to me.My sole purpose is to destroy everything you and your brothers created. Everything that was gained after the four of you destroyed William Bone’s school for boys.
The fucker was going after my money. The resort business does well. And if I gave up the arms dealing today, my family would live happily off that wealth for generations. But the money I make from supplying weapons is the type of money that goes beyond generational wealth. It’s the type of money that could move the world.
By fucking up my supply chain, you make it easy for someone else to step in and take control. There is no loyalty in this world. Consumers will go to the next reliable thing without a second thought.
Laughter to my right has me turning in that direction. Two of my men are talking among themselves, seeming to be in good spirits.
“Something funny?”
Both men straighten at the sound of my voice. The one who laughed looks at his partner nervously.
