Chapter 11
Boden
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"Hot damn." Kaige whistles, impressed, as we watch crate after crate get hauled out of the back of a semi backed onto the loading dock. “So not just some coke, then. No wonder they wanted to murder you guys for holding this shit up.”
The warehouse is chaotic, Stonewood’s men rushing here after the very brief warning Adrian gave their alpha that things were a go after all and to come meet the truck. Not like he couldn’t have called at any point over the last three days, but it’s better to keep men on their toes with these sort of business relationships so that they can’t plan the best way to fuck you over.
A little over a dozen men are hastily unloading the truck and running the crates across the open expanse of the warehouse, out to their waiting SUVs on the other side. They have to work double-time since they sacrificed eight of their guys to watch the four of us, semi-automatics trained on our chests. With Kaige’s ability as an ace up our sleeve, though? It’s not much of a threat. Really, the only thing that’s even the slightest bit alarming is the realization of how much of an influence the Slaughters have had in this area for gods know how long when we’d never even heard of them before Sabrina showed up. We keep tabs on all of the packs and their dealings to a certain degree, and while we knew Stonewood was in the drug trade, we never delved so deep as to knowwhatdrugs they were moving.
Brent Stonewood finally arrives, his skin flushed with irritation. Not only at being expected to drop everything and jump at a snap of Adrian’s fingers when he’s so far beneath him in social standing, getting jerked around this month and his plans ruined, but at Cinjin, Kaige, and mine’s presence. “Someone care to explain what the hell they’re doing here?” Furious eyes lock onto Adrian’s scarred face, and a lesser man might have flinched in the face of the pissed off asshole that looks like he stepped out of a B-rated mafia movie.
“Since you were so hard pressed to receive the shipment and Jackson failed to handle the-” Adrian pauses for dramatic effect with a knowing smirk “- contributing factors to its delay, I pulled a few strings as a surprise. So, you’re welcome. Now everyone’s happy.”
The man has balls, I’ll give him that.
Brent’s jaw ticks, but he attempts to conceal it by tucking his hands in the pockets of his dark suit, rocking back on his heels in faux casualty, as if contemplating the situation without a care. I share a quick look with Cin and find him struggling to suppress a grin of his own; Brent’s always had a shit poker face.
Eyes as black as his soul narrow on the four of us as Brent catches our amusement, aiming his attention at Adrian. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Let’s put it this way then.” A cruel, smug smile spreads across my face. “Your suppliers aren't particularly happy that their daughter was injured in your sloppy attempt to ‘handle’ things. And as someone mated to said daughter, who do you think they’d prefer to align themselves with when certain connections were brought to light in order to save face?”
A crease forms between his eyebrows. “She was never threatened, simply escortedawayfrom potential crossfire. I made sure that was abundantly clear, so anything else that happened to that girl wasn’t at the hands of my men.”
He’s not really this dumb?It’s almost impossible not to roll my eyes.Yes, please admit to your involvement.
Adrian shrugs a single shoulder. “Regardless, it nearly resulted in their relationship with their daughter getting off on the wrong foot, and they have no interest in chasing her away.” The ‘like her mother,’ is implied, hanging heavily in the air. “And you know as well as I do that they have plenty of other interested buyers, so it would go a long way all around to extend a peace offering to smooth things over between all parties.”
Red spreads up his neck, but he wisely keeps himself in check, at least smart enough to realize the corner he’s been backed into. Seething, he grits out, “Such as?”
Cinjin speaks for the first time, his voice devoid of all traces of his usual humor. “Carter. I promised Slade that we’d play by the rules and wait, but seeing as no one else is doing so anymore, my patience is wearing thin. I’d think the men you sent after my sister that never reported back would be proof enough that our pack may be small, but each one of us is worth ten of your men. Your failed attempts at getting us arrested over the past week should convince you that our lack of retaliation is out of respect for the old laws of our kind, not because we’re afraid. We’re owed blood, and I damn well plan to collect; with or without your blessing.”
He looks from me to Cinjin, then Kaige, Adrian, and the truck. After several minutes of silent contemplation, weighing all of his options, he nods, barking a command at one of the men pointing a gun at us to fetch him.
“Will this affect the next shipment?” he asks, speaking to Adrian and acting as if we aren’t worth acknowledging. Still, his men keep their weapons trained on us, his show of an olive branch exactly that; a show.
Adrian pulls out his phone, bringing up his calendar and dragging shit out simply to piss off Brent. “I’m not seeing anything that would indicate a delay.” He lifts his gaze to the alpha in front of him, reveling in the fact that we promised to protect him to the best of our ability in return for his cooperation, exploiting it as much as he possibly can. “Unless there’s something you’d like me to pencil in? Any maimings or pissing someone off that will disrupt the supply chain?”
If that vein in his temple throbs any harder, it’s going to burst.
The words are hardly discernible between his grinding teeth. “Everything’s running smoothly on our end.”
Adrian nods to himself, pokes at his phone a little more, and then tucks it in his back pocket with the bulging envelope containing the ‘tip’ he suggested they should bring for all of his hard work. “Then pending no more issues, we’re on for around six weeks out. Pleasure doing business with you as always.”
The next twenty minutes pass by without any more conversation, only the sounds of men running crates and beginning to roll out keeping it from falling into silence. Jackson finally shows his face, the beta storming into the warehouse, his gun held loosely at his side.
After a terse update as Brent brings him up to speed, Jackson spits on the floor at our feet. “If they kept their bitch on a tighter leash, there wouldn’t be any problems in th-”
