Mitch’s jaw tightened. “I already did. You won’t listen.”
Heat raced up his body. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
Narrowed eyes regarded him from a flushed face. “I don’t know. You’re risking our whole enterprise by turning on me for no good reason. That sound smart to you?”
So. That was how Mitch wanted to play this?
He clenched his fists. Fought the urge to cross the room and bury his fist in Mitch’s face. “You want to see the video? Of you snooping outside this place?”
White washed the color from Mitch’s cheeks.
Had he really thought Tio wouldn’t have the surrounding area surveilled? “Oh, yeah. There’s video. Of you hiding behind a shipping container like some kind of spy. You saw the car enter. You saw the boat enter. And I watched you see it all.”
Mitch’s tongue flicked across suddenly colorless lips. “I-I don’t know what I saw.”
Of course he didn’t. Too bad he knew enough to be dangerous.
Pain pulsed behind Tio’s eyes. This wasn’t how he’d wanted things to be. Sure, he’d always known the risk, known that this day might come, but he’d thought he could cover it up well enough that Mitch never had to know.
He’d been wrong.
Sighing, Tio gestured to the sofa, then took a seat on the closest end.
Mitch slowly lowered himself to the cushion at the other end.
“How much do you know?”
Time stilled. Mitch stared at him, those strange green eyes unreadable.
After what felt like minutes, but was probably only a few seconds, Mitch slumped back against the sofa. “You took that Boggess kid. And some other guy. No idea why.”
Hmmm. Assuming he was telling the truth, Mitch only knew about those two. And he didn’t seem to have as much information as Tio had feared.
Mitch was a good liar, but after all these years working together, Tio could usually tell when he was lying.
“Are they dead?” Mitch’s question made him blink.
“What’s it to you?” Injecting a challenge into his tone, Tio fixed his attention on Mitch’s face.
“You know how I feel about that!” Mitch rubbed the top of his head, making his short gray hair stick out at odd angles. “We don’t hurt people. That’s always been our philosophy.”
Mitch’s philosophy, maybe, but not his. “Get off your high horse. You think no one is hurt in the sweat shops that produce our products? That no one dies so we can do what we do?”
Mitch averted his eyes. “No one that I know about.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not happening.”
“It’s different. We’re not making those choices. But this… you’re choosing to hurt people!”
Who did Mitch think he was? Making up his own twisted sense of morality and imposing it on others? “How do you know, huh? Maybe I’m helping them escape their pathetic existence for a new life. You ever think of that?”
Blinking, Mitch pulled back slightly. “Uh… but that doesn’t make any sense. That Boggess guy has it all. Money, power, family–”
“And a life in the spotlight. The pressure of the media criticizing and second-guessing his every move. His father grooming him for a career in politics. Wouldn’t you want to get away from that?”
He could practically see the gears turning in Mitch’s brain.
It was a lie Mitch would want to believe. Hopefully that’d be enough to make him believe it.
Truth was, he couldn’t maintain both operations without Mitch working the smuggling gig. While he didn’t need both to survive, why throw away a good thing if he didn’t have to?
“So what now?” Mitch’s breathing hitched. “You know you can’t do this without me. I’m the scheduler. I’m the money man.”
Neither of which was Tio’s strong suit. They both knew it. “I don’t want to do it without you, but you might not leave me a choice. I won’t give up my business. It brings in more cash than the smuggling, let me tell you.”
“Then let me in on it. You probably need a numbers guy. I bet your books are a mess.”
They were, not that he’d ever admit as much.
If he could trust Mitch, he’d bring him in, but he couldn’t trust him. The last few days, with Mitch snooping around and meeting with that still-unidentified woman, had proven that much.
“I’ll think about it. For now, you’ll continue to run our operations from here.” Under Zane’s watchful eyes.
Mitch’s eyes narrowed. “And if I won’t?”
Rising, Tio stared down at the man who used to be a friend. “Then you’re of no further use to me.”
Nine
“You can sit wherever.” A waving hand punctuated Noelle Orson’s words.
Kevyn eased onto the corner of a leather sofa that looked brand new.
An ornately carved mahogany table separated Kevyn from Noelle, who had curled up in a leather recliner.
Had she purposely chosen the recliner, knowing Kevyn couldn’t sit too close?
Always possible.
“I’m glad they didn’t have to keep you at the hospital for too long.” Kevyn kept her tone conversational, like they were discussing the latest fashion. “Hospitals aren’t fun. Or comfortable.”
Noelle nodded. “They said I wasn’t hurt too badly. I have to keep bandages on a few of the scratches and they gave me some kind ointment for my wrists, but said I’ll be good as new before long.”
“That’s great news.” Hmm. Maybe a little test would be a good thing. “I bet you’re anxious to get back to your clients.”
“Oh, I am.” Noelle’s words were emphatic. “I have several clients who will lose so much progress if I’m not working with them again soon.”
No trace of apprehension or fear. Interesting.
The idea of returning to the scene of the crime should be enough to make Noelle nervous. At the very least. Honestly, terror wouldn’t be a
