Easton and I head inside the empty building, two of his men following us in while the other two keep guard and wait for our ‘guest.’ It’s one of several buildings we keep empty specifically for meetings like this, but there are no direct links back to the company.
It’s not long before the door opens, and three men walk in, followed by our two, their hands resting on their weapons in case something goes wrong.
It’s easy to pick the man we’re here to see. He walks in front of the group, but unlike the two brutes with him, he wears a complete three-piece suit. He’s younger than I was expecting—mid-thirties maybe—but that’s not what sets me on edge. It’s the way he walks in like he owns the place.
He doesn’t fucking look likelow-levelto me. Unless it’s all for show, but then, it’s a pretty fucking good act.
I glance at Easton, and his eyes are locked on the man, muscles tense, and I suspect he’s thinking the same thing I am.
“Sebastian Reed, I presume,” he says when he reaches us, holding out his hand to me, a grin on his face. We’re about the same height, but it’s hard to tell his build through all the layers.
“Mr. Deveigne,” I say, taking his hand in a firm grip, but his grin only widens.
“Alexander is fine,” he says
Pulling my hand back, I gesture to Easton. “This is Easton Woods. He deals directly with most of ourclientsand ensures everything runs smoothly on our end.”
“Ah, yes.” Alexander looks to East. “Your father told meallabout you.”
Easton’s eyes darken, and the muscles in his neck strain.
Shit.
Alexander holds Easton’s stare, not backing down, and while his face remains neutral, his eyes almost gleam with delight as Easton’s grow darker.
“I’ll admit, Mr. Deveigne, I’m not exactly sure what we’re doing here,” I say, interrupting the fucking explosion that’s about to erupt between them if Easton doesn’t calm the fuck down. “What is it you’re looking for?”
“I’m expanding my business,” he says, his attention back on me. “My regular service isn’t able to keep up with demand, and apparently, you’re the best. I want the best.”
His attempt at an ego boost doesn’t work with me.
“What are we talking about here? Drugs? Weapons? How much are you trying to move?”
“Drugs, yes,” he says. “Guns, some military-grade weapons.” He rattles off numbers, but something still doesn’t feel right.
“Oh, then there’s my extra special cargo.”
My back stiffens.
“I lose just as many of those as I receive,” he says, scowling. “The bastards don’t give a shit what condition they make it here in. As long as they’re still breathing, they get their money.”
I clench my jaw as my suspicions are confirmed.
“I’ll give you a percentage on top of your price if you can get them here in a reasonable condition. It shouldn’t be hard if you’re really as good as your reputation precedes,” he continues.
“We’re done here.”
Alexander stiffens at my words. “What?” he questions, his voice deathly calm.
“I said,we’re done.We aren’t interested.”
My blood burns as it roars through my body. Fucking human trafficking.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says, and the change in him is palpable.
His blue eyes darken to almost black, and his muscles tense, straining against his tailored suit.
He takes a step towards me so that we’re only a metre away from each other, and I hear weapons being drawn behind me, but I don’t take my eyes off him.