“I understand you brought me something dangerous,” he said. “Or at least news of something dangerous.”
“I brought you a problem,” I said. “Whether it’s dangerous depends on what you do with it.”
He huffed. “You always did speak in riddles when you were nervous.”
“If I was nervous, you’d know,” I said. “I’m being careful. There’s a difference.”
“Careful,” he repeated. “Good. Be careful, then. Start at the beginning.”
I did.
“Couple nights ago,” I said. “We took a job off your pier. High buyer, simple delivery, drop site, contact name and a key. No questions asked. You know the kind.”
He nodded once. His face didn’t change, but something in his posture sharpened. “Which pier?”
I named it. Gave him the container number. The shipping company. Reminded him that Salvatore handed it off to us. His eyes narrowed with each detail, especially the mentioning of his youngest son.
“We loaded the bike up, rolled out,” I went on. “Made it to the drop site when a team hit us. These weren’t just street corner punks. They were professionals. Coordinated. They wanted that bike, not us. Miami took off with it to a safe house. Wrecked after fleeing there to another after discovering what wasinsidethat bike.”
I kept my tone flat when I said it, but a mental image of him laying up in a bed flashed hot in my head.
“Your man lived?” Roman questioned.
“For now,” I said. “He’s in a bed at Shoreline. Broken, stitches everywhere. Code silver went off yesterday when a man in a suit walked into his hallway with a gun and intent.”
Roman’s jaw ticked.
“Was a cleanup job for sure. They didn’t like that the package didn’t make it to its destination. They didn’t like it less that others were now connected to it. So, they went looking for the last man who touched it and found him in a gown instead of on his bike.”
Roman’s eyes were on me the whole time. He watched my mouth. My eyes. My hands.
“You keep saying ‘they’ like you know who ‘they’ are,” he said.
“I think I know who ordered the move,” I said. “The Vincinos, even though it rolled off your docks.”
“And you think that means I signed the death warrant?” he asked.
“I think it means someone used your pier tomove something that can rearrange this city, and they thought you’d be either too blind to see it or too compromised to care,” I said. “I’m here to find out which one they’re banking on.”
His eyes cooled. “Careful, Alice.”
“You know me to speak freely. Me and you don’t have time for bullshit.”
He sat back, gaze never leaving mine. “I assume you didn’t come here to talk about just a bike. You said your man fled when he found what was inside of it. Was it heroin? Guns? You’ve moved these before. What could be so dangerous? Information? Receipts?”
“Not receipts,” I said. “A blueprint.”
I flicked my eyes toward Vladimir involuntarily. Roman saw it.
Roman’s stare sharpened. “Vespiano,” he called.
The Shark appeared from a side door I hadn’t seen open, a fresh cigar between his fingers. Of course he was already upstairs. He probably knew every knife and gun slot on this floor.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Cigars,” Roman said. He turned to me. “Let’s take a walk.”
He didn’t wait for a yes. He just rose and headed toward the balcony doors. I stood and followed.
