“What thefuckare you playing at, Ronan?”
My stomach drops at the icy tone of his voice.
Harry’s not exactly a warm guy, but I’ve known him a long time, and he’s always spoken to me with a quiet respect. But right now, there’s nothing but animosity in his voice.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t insult me. You leaked sensitive, high-level intel about one of my shipments! Shit only your side had eyes on, and because of that, it’s now in the hands of the Caldwells.”
The Caldwells?
Fuck.
Harry offers me a never-ending string of expletives, and I pinch the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger as I wait for him to finish.
“I didn’t leak anything. Neither did any of my brothers.”
“I don’t give a fuck what your brothers did or didn’t do. What I care about is that I’ve got a warehouse in ashes and twenty million dollars' worth of product gone. Someone sold me out, and all signs point to you.”
I shouldn’t be surprised, considering recent events, but I would have thought that my longstanding relationship with Harry, as well as my reputation, would be enough to earn me the benefit of the doubt. But it seems it’s not.
“We’re not behind this, Harry. Youknowme. We’ve done business for years.”
“I used to think I knew you.”
“Harry, come on?—”
“No, Ronan. We’re done here.”
And just like that, my mood goes from bad to worse as he hangs up the phone.
“Fuck!” I slam my phone down onto the desk so hard the screen cracks, but I don’t care.
This is the third hit I’ve taken because of this fucking mole, and they don’t seem to be slowing down anytime soon. If anything, they’re only raising the stakes.
I spend the next few hours trying to talk Harry down, refusing to let him back out of our working relationship. I call twice, leaving messages both times before taking another route and sending a message through his second-in-command. I offer to meet face-to-face on his territory, but I get nothing but silence in return.
Only when I leave him yet another voicemail offering to write him a check for the money he lost do I get him back on the line.
“Have you officially lost your goddamn mind?”
“I thought you’d be pleased?”
“I don’t need your charity, Sullivan. I need my product.”
“Which I don’t have.” I lean back in my chair and turn around to stare out of the window. “What I do have is a mole inside my operation who is feeding information to the highest bidder.”
“A mole?”
“Yes. Trust me, Harry, I wasn’t the one who leaked the intel on your shipment.”
It takes everything I’ve got to keep the conversation civil, to sound reasonable instead of furious.
Harry’s old-school and of my father’s generation, which means he values loyalty more than profit.
I can tell he wants to believe me by the way he pauses before he speaks.
“You’ve got one chance. You better find out who’s doing this and fast because if another deal goes sideways, I won’t be calling again. I’ll be sending someone.”
