Page 11

If that was the case, finding the warehouse wouldn’t have been a problem. The warehouse wasn’t ours like I thought it would be. Rather, it was rented by one of the several shell companies we used in moving things around. For an organization like us, shell companies were more or less a tool we used to move funds around and get things done. In the past, Jake, an employee of my father, was responsible for creating them, but now, Logan did the work. Jake had set up the company, one of the several he had set up right before he died.

“Are you sure that’s the warehouse?” Logan asked as he threw his cigarette on the ground.

“The records and financial statement points to it,” I said as I rubbed the base of my neck. “You also confirmed it yourself.”

“Yeah, but we could be wrong. Honestly, that Jake was an asshole, and I still believed he stole from your father.”

Logan’s opinions of his predecessor were quite obvious, one that he had brought up a couple of times. Jake was family, and even if there were evidence that he was a thief, my father wasn’t willing to mar his reputation.

It was quite cold tonight, and I guess it was the best night to smoke whoever was behind this whole thing besides a barrel of fire. I know for certain that I won’t be able to figure out who was really behind it. No, they seem to be quite smart in covering up their tracks. I’ll only get the hired hands, those hired to help with the whole operation.

“If only I knew about the shell company on time,” Logan pointed out.

“There’s a lot of things about this organization you don’t know,” Thomas told him.

Apart from the three of us, there were five other men with us. The seven of them were the handful of people I could trust, men I had handpicked myself. Logan wasn’t much of a fighter, but I knew I could count on Thomas and the rest. Coming with just seven men might seem like a rather stupid move, but of the seven of them, only Logan was not much of a fighter. Thomas and the rest were experienced fighters, and they could handle themselves in a fight.

“Okay, guys, the plan is quite simple,” I said as I turned to them. “We get in, beat whoever’s in our way, and get my cars out.”

“Set the warehouse on fire?” Charles called out.

“No, sadly, we can’t do that. You and Mike will have to see to the people left behind.”

The rest of us would drive out the cars back to my mansion. I needed to send a message out to whoever was responsible for this that I wasn’t the person to be messed with. Walking toward the warehouse, I noticed there were a few guards right outside the door.

“The place doesn’t seem that much guarded like before,” Thomas commented.

True, in our earlier drive by, there were four guards stationed. Now, there were only two, and they both seemed tired.

“Maybe they’re about to change shifts? I just hope my cars are here,” I continued walking.

“Hey, fella,” one of them called out in what seemed to be a Boston accent. “What are you looking for?”

“That’s a very nice question,” I said as I folded my arms. “You see, about a week ago, five cars went missing, and I just discovered they are in that warehouse which strangely my family rented.”

“Who are you?” The second guard asked.

Both men looked at each other, and I heard one of them laugh out loud. “I don’t really know what you lots are up to, but get out of here. Do you know who this place belongs to? Marcus LaRosa.”

“Really?” Thomas asked as he stepped forward.

Both men stepped back momentarily. It was always the same when people noticed Thomas, who stood around 6’5. His huge build and height made people wary of him, and these guards were no different. “Do you know who he is? You are looking at Lucas Cruz.”

“Yeah. If that’s Lucas Cruz, then I’m Lebron James,” the left guard said.

Barely had the words left the guard’s mouth when he was punched in the face. Thomas had moved at the speed of light, hitting him in the face. The second guard tried to come to his colleague’s defense, but he got a punch in his face for his effort. Thomas had disabled both men within seconds, and that was just a demonstration of his abilities.

“Don’t kill them, Thomas. We are only here to retrieve my cars and nothing else,” I told Thomas. My gaze switched to the two guards who were writhing on the floor. “Sorry, guys.”

I half-expected someone to come out because of the ruckus we caused, but until Thomas pushed open the doors, no one stepped out.

“Who the fuck are you guys?” Someone yelled at us as I stepped into the warehouse.

Four men were sitting around a table playing what seemed to be poker. It was a rather stupid move, but then, they probably thought they had nothing to worry about.

“Seems like my cars are in good condition,” I spotted the Ferrari and Porsche.

“Who the fuck are you?” A rather tall guy walked toward us.