I listen and eat while Ransome runs through the logistics of the El Paso deal. That’s what they call it, despite the fact the trucks dock in Las Cruces, New Mexico before being loaded. There is an Apex hub there of all places. El Paso is the port of entry where the trucks haul from Juarez, Mexico.
“Does all the…product…come from Mexico?” I ask as I mentally take notes.
“South America,” he answers. “The majority of the US’s cocaine comes from Columbia, Bolivia, and Peru, smuggled in through a hub near LAX. We run through Juarez and Mexico City because the people we work with—very wealthy, very dangerous people—have access to a producer in Peru that makes the finest, purest stuff on the market. That’s who we are working with now.”
I nod, my eyes narrow in thought as I sip my coffee. “So they haul it over the border in the underside of gasoline tankers. Why would trucks of gasoline run from us to Juarez? Don’t they have access through their own country?”
Ransome’s lips tip in the hint of a smirk. He likes the detailed questioning. “Because Apex has a deal with Energia. My company is king in the oil and gas industry. We own rights and distribution to half the planet. Anyone who does business with us stays in business. Clemente Rodriguez, the CEO of Energia, works with me to keep Mexico and Central America up to speed in the O&G industry… and he’s also the distributor to the Mexican cartel. He sells to the kingpin of the Mexican prison systems, where this particular blow is in highest demand.”
“And he works with you so that same product can become available and thenneededin America.”
“Yes,” Ransome answers. And there’s the rest of that smirk.
“So trucks run from the Apex hub in Las Cruces down to Energia in Mexico. They do a fuel exchange where they load up with product and run back to Las Cruces,” I start in. “And then the product is put in the new trucks, and also more fuel, so at checkpoints it appears they are actually doing the job of running for Apex.”
“Yes.”
“They cross the country meeting halfway and do an exchange at a hub in St. Louis where three new trucks take the product and bring it here. The trucks are detailed, loaded with fuel and emptycargo bays below, and then run back to St. Louis where they meet again.”
“Exactly. You learn fast,dorogoya.”
But I’m not done. As my brain wraps around the logistics of it all, I grow increasingly fascinated by the process.
“Why the stop in St. Louis? Why the trade-off? It seems risky to unload into new trucks out in the open like that.”
Ransome nods and sets down his mug. “The St. Louis hub is Apex secured. Most trucks load and unload at docks on the building’s exteriors. These ones are brought inside for cross-country maintenance.But I understand your questioning. I had the same concerns myself.” He leans over slightly as he speaks. “My dad, Anton, insisted that this way was better. The trucks that run from St. Louis to New York are labeled Northern region and he believes that’s safer than having South West region trucks up here.”
“Like it would be too obvious to have trucks that are most likely running the Mexican border just showing up on a bi-weekly basis or more in an area where cocaine and narcotics have become a huge issue on the streets.”
“Exactly.”
“If not to the cops, then definitely to the other dealers out there. Like the Chadovichs and who knows who else.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself, kitten.”
It earns me a grin. A real fucking grin. Heat shoots down to my crotch and I squeeze my legs together more before I make a mess all over her black leather chair.
“It still seems risky to me,” I say. “How long does it take to unload from one truck to another?”
“About two hours start to finish, and that’s if they really move.”
“That’s two sitting duck hours.” It’s a bold thing to say. Ransome studies me. “You have eyes on the entrances and the roads in and around the hub during these trades?”
“Maybe not enough.” He sucks air through his teeth and pinches the bridge of his nose. “This operation was started by Anton and placed in my lap. I am ironing out the details to ensure it doesn’t explode. But I agree with you. The tighter we run, the better.”
“No leaks.” I take a sip of my perfectly made coffee.
“Zero,” he agrees, and his head cocks to the side a little. His blue eyes are light, flecked with a deeper sapphire, and his lips are still tugging in a half smirk. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, kitten. Smarter than I gave you credit for.”
“I’ve had to be,” I admit.
He nods. “I get that.”
I wonder if he really does. If he’s ever been stuck in survival mode like I have. But then again, he is Bratva. Chances are, he’s gone up against way worse than I have.
Guess we’ll find out.
After breakfast, Ransome tells me to take the rest of the day off. He is still going into the office, but claims he doesn’t need me. Normally, I’d argue, but I’m still not standing quite straight after last night. If the boss wants to give me some sweet PTO, who am I to say no?
