I Can't Own You? (BOOK 1)

49 (NEW)

SYDNEY

At dawn, I prepare myself for another hectic day. Ten million units of cocaine and meth has to go out today. That's James's normal quota for the mafia. His other clients receive five thousand units a week. He's kissing asses too much, to be honest. James has workers slaving all day, packaging up bricks, blocks, and cubes of drugs for twelve hours straight...and I have to oversee it all. The boss is on medical hold; the Dons are having secret meetings, while I play boss.

Am I ready for this? A security guard turnt co-kingpin? I ask myself as I get up from a leather, sleep sofa. I feel around in dim light for a bag. A duffle bag full of hygienic items, a change of clothes, and aspirin. I locate it, drawstring it open, and take aspirin...dry swallowing, not even experiencing a headache...but preparing for one.

I swoop up from the sofa, stretching and hearing bone joints pop. I slip into short boots, joggers, and a hoodie. It's time. 6:05 am. I leave a small office, opening a creaking door. My hand on my 42, which rest in the waistband. In times like these, there is no keep your guard down. The mafia could hit this operation at any moment, just to show how low their dicks swing.

I scan a narrow hall, feeling nostalgia hit. The booming of dropping bombs...a face full of mud, the smell of blood, men yelling, the whiz of flying bullets. An open field of death.

I snap out of the memory when I find no one in the vicinity. My feet bump on wobbly floors, as I head to grab a Nutri-Grain bar and orange juice from a mini-fridge. I eat quickly, knowing that the workers were already up, so I chew, drink, as if it's my last meal. I throw away the wrapping and bottle, once done. My ears jerk at the sound of an army of trucks rolling up outside. The headlights shine brightly onto the parked trailer I'm in. I head to a metal door, pushing it outward.

Thirty trucks, all in a straight line, greet me. I watch as each one rotates to their backsides, reversing, beeping, backing up, and connecting to loading docks attached to a factory building. Bitter winds fog up my sight, mixing snow in with it. I shield my eyes and walk towards the factory.

Inside, fluorescent lights scorch my eyes, I blink furiously, as they water and burn. I press forward, cautiously...not wanting to bump into shit. Laughs follow as I feel around. "Rookie on the job." Dorian, a turtle shirt wearing asshole, with the whitest hair I've ever seen, croaks. Of course, my eyes hadn't adjusted yet, but I've seen him enough to know the annoying amusement that plasters his tone.

"Fuck off!" I retort groggily. "There's no time to just stand around." My eyes make out the surroundings now. The ten men I informed James about, are huddled in a circle. "Get to work!" My attention goes to the factory workers, who pile white packaged products into steel boxes and hand drill them shut-using three screw shots. A conveyor belts from a few rows down, whirls, and rolls the drugs down to the boxing sections.

"I guess we gotta listen, boys; the new boss can fire us." Dorian waves the crew ahead, who all shuffle over to work stations. "Possibly." He says backhandedly, before following the rest.

"Keep pushing it, we'll see." I watch as the ten guys load up the steel boxes onto dollies. The trucks at the end of each loading dock have their trunks open, waiting to be filled. I watch most of the station workers package up white drugs, wondering why all twenty-five areas aren't occupied. A mechanical droning noise rocks the warehouse.

A woman approaches me with a clipboard. "How many units are we at?" I request.

"Two point four million, sir."

"There are twenty-five stations...you're telling me that six are only operating!?" I get critical.

"Yes. There was a quality problem with the others, a ceiling leak, that will be dealt with once the cleaners arrive, sir."

"Get them up to par now; sanitize and hang coverings below the leaks, you have fifteen minutes." I can't have a bad day. The units can't be short in any way, especially for the mafia. If they are, I would have to stay here another night...and deliver the rest tomorrow, but that scenario will end bloody. The Dons aren't to be fucked with. James is not to be fucked with either. So I have to perform as expected.

I watch the group of ten pack dollies with drugs, wondering if they would flip? Are any of them spying on the business for a foe? How else would they know James is at the hospital? Dorian said new boss. Why did Dorian say that? This situation with James is only known to me, his family, and Ryan, no one else. Unless the mansion is bugged or the phones are tapped? Hmm...it won't hurt to investigate. Ask some questions. I'll have to catch them outside when loading is done.

I bet James is dying for updates. Maybe I should send one of the guys to ease the boss's mind. Plus, there needs to be a security sweep to secure his safety. "Luther!" I yell over the roar of mechanical shift breaks.

A bald guy with a long beard, places down a steel box, mid load, and hops down from a truck's bridge. Panting. "Yeah, boss?" He says the last part a bit oddly.

I ignore his tone. "You're temporarily relieved of your post."

"Oh, okay. What's my mission" He says, all keyed up.

"To report to James, let him know how things are going..."

Luther shrugs, a judgmental read to his face. "A phone call can do what my leaving will."

I step up, using my chest as a loaded gun, puffing it out, scaring the little shit. "If you have forgotten, there is no one guarding him...no lookout. Can a phone call do that?"

Luther hesitates a bit, then lowers his tone. "Hospitals are pretty good at keeping people comfortable..."

"That doesn't make it's a haven. The Dons know he's there."

Luther's eyes widen in honest bewilderment, I guess he didn't know that last part, maybe I'm being paranoid about this groups knowledge. "Oh damn, you serious?!!"

"Do as I say, and don't leave until sweeping the parking lot."

"Yes sir." He salutes me, amusement present on his lips. "Get it, because you were in the..." I throw a humorless look at him. "Never mind."