Page 38 of My Ghost

Luc’s expression hardens.“Looks like it.Doesn’t make sense though.No one’s stupid enough to try that here, not without our say-so.”

D downs his whiskey in one go and slams his glass on the table, eyes dark.“Unless they don’t care, or they think we won’t touch it.”

“Manticore?”I ask.

Luc meets my eyes with a shake of his head.“That’s the question.”

I lean back in my chair, fingers steepled.Everything about this stinks.

“We intercept, of course,” I say.

They both nod.

“I’ll handle it.”

D nods again.“Want backup?”

I shake my head.“I’ll take my crew, I want silence.We go in and out before anyone can so much as blink.If it’s clean, it never happened.If it’s dirty…” I down my glass and stand up, “I’ll want names.”

* * * *

The port is quiet except for the hum of cranes and the slap of water against the piers.My men move like shadows in the dark, melting between rows of containers until we’re in position.Three unmarked containers sit near the far end, lit by a single floodlight.The air smells of sea salt and diesel.My boots are soundless on the concrete as I walk toward the four dockworkers loitering nearby.I recognize every face.D’s men.Ourmen.

I don’t slow down, I want them to see me coming.When they finally see me, their faces go ashen and one of them looks ready to bolt.But then he spots my men closing in on them from every side, and he knows that any attempt of escape would be pointless.

They shift uneasily, one of them takes a step toward me with a forced smile.“Matteo—”

I grab him by the collar and slam him against a container so hard the metal groans.“Don’t ‘Matteo’ me,” I growl.“You know whose city this is, you know whose port this is.And yet here I am, standing in front of a shipment you let through.”

He starts to babble incoherently, and I can’t contain my rage any longer.I slam my fist into his gut, folding him in half.One of my men tosses me a crowbar.I catch it mid-air and drag it slowly across the container’s surface, the screech of metal shrill enough to pull teeth.

“Open it,” I order.

My men break the padlock and the doors swing open.

Stale air whooshes out, laced with the stench of fear.I step closer and my blood runs cold.A dozen girls are huddled in the dark, wrists bound and eyes wide with terror.

Ice cold fury runs through my veins as I turn back to the dockworkers.I grab the nearest of them and slam him against the container, the crowbar rammed into his throat.

“Who paid you to keep your mouths shut?”

He gurgles a reply and I ease the pressure to allow him to take a breath.

“Talk.”

He swallows hard.“N-Naples.Shipment’s been coming from there.The transit through this port…” He hesitates and I shove the crowbar harder against his throat before he goes on.“…it was approved.I don’t know who signed off, but it’s cleared.”

I narrow my eyes.“You’re telling me someone high up gave a green light to run girls through my city?”

He flinches but doesn’t answer, which is answer enough.

“I want a name,” I grit out and he knows damn well that it’s not a wish.

“I…I don’t know.”He sounds desperate.“The shipment’s been handled by a private shipping company for a client listed as…Geryon.”

I pause and look at him for several beats and watch him squirm.

“Matteo…I swear I don’t know more.W-we thought this shipment was clean since it has been approved.I swear…” He starts to snivel now.