Page 43 of Captive Bride: Armani
I don’t look at my brothers because I don’t need to. I already know that we’re a unified front on how we’re going to handle this.
The officer—the very young officer—pulls his lips to one side as if he doesn’t believe me. “You sure about that? No rivals, no enemies? This doesn’t seem random.”
I don’t have time for this shit. “Look. In our industry, sabotage by competitors is hardly unheard of, but no one’s exactly going to sign their names, are they?”
He’s about to speak again, but I hold up a hand.
“Officer, listen, I need to make a few calls to our insurance company and check on my employees. My brother Dante here will be happy to help with any further questions.”
I don’t wait to see how my brother reacts to me throwing him under the bus. He can hold his own. Marco falls into step beside me as I head back to the dock. The barge is still floating, but there’s significant fire damage where the cargo was being loaded. A tugboat is attached to the barge now, likely preparing to tow it to dry dock for a full assessment, though I doubt it’s possible to repair it. Replacing the barge, rebuilding the warehouse, cleaning up the rubble and soot and ash…all of this is going to cost a fortune.
Trying to keep my anger under control, I make my rounds through the employees, checking on them before sending them all home. Then Marco and I meet Frederica inside, who is still going over the inventory. Honestly, I don’t want to know how much money we lost today.
She turns her sharp eyes on me, looking both angry and defeated. “I don’t know what happened. You know me, I’m always on my feet. I was in and out of the place all morning, I never saw no one come up the docks who shouldn’t be there. I checked the security camera footage myself and there’s nothing. Whoever did this had to be a ghost.”
Gripping her shoulder comfortingly, I turn Frederica to a chair and have her sit. She’s been working well past retirement age, and I wonder if this is the kicker she’ll need to finally call it quits. She could have died. She’d probably appreciate more time with the grandkids anyway.
“You’re sure you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Nah. The cops asked for a copy of the security tapes so they can look, too, but I doubt it’ll make a difference. They probably won’t figure out a damn thing until the arson investigators come around. Anyway. Can’t sit here. I got so much to do.”
She moves to stand, but I keep her in place.
“Frederica, go home. Get some rest. You’ve been through enough already.”
“Oh, no. I’ve been here almost fifty years and I can count on one hand the number of days I had to miss work.”
Knowing that I’m not going to get her out of here, I change course. “Fine. Go ahead and make copies of the footage and anything else the authorities need. I’ll get you some hot coffee.”
She waves me off. “Terry sends me with a thermos. I’ll get on it. You be a good boy.”
Marco works his jaw as we head back to Dante.
“Anything from Frederica?” he asks.
“Not a fucking thing,” Marco grinds out. “I don’t get it. This is a highly secure, private dock. No one knows we ship from here. How the fuck did this happen?”
Fuck.
Moment of truth. I could lie to them. It’s easy and I’ve done it before. But lying gets increasingly complicated over time and it’s easier to manipulate than to outright lie.
“I gave Candi a tour yesterday,” I tell them.
“Jesus,” Marco exclaims, followed by a string of creative curses.
Dante throws his hands up. “Of course you did.”
Marco pushes a hand into my chest. “What’s the fucking deal with this chick, Armani? You’re sacrificing everything to get your dick wet? Is that it? You have any idea how much money we lost on that fucking shipment? What if they’d lit the place up at night? This entire dock would’ve burnt to ash, not just our shit.”
“Marco,” Dante warns.
My little brother doesn’t get pissed at me or Dante often, but when he does, he goes full Italian. Stepping back—knowing better than to put his hands on me again, but still too wound up to relax—he shakes his finger in my face.
“This stupid game of yours ends now. Fucking her for information isn’t working! You’re done. You understand?”
Oh, baby brother. Pulling a breath through my nose, I grab his wrist and move his hand. Our eyes lock. He’s lucky he’s my blood or he’d be in pieces, along with what’s left of our wine.
“Don’t underestimate me,” I say. “I know what I’m doing.”
