Chapter 204
Luciano snapped the folder shut like a gavel. “Partnership, then.” He lifted his chin toward the
credenza. “We drink.”
Alina’s smile was neat, professional. “We
She slid the executed pages back acros
on first, then we drink. I like the order of things.” ross the table, pen aligned like a compass. the table, pen aligned like a compass.
“A true business woman.” Luciano said, amused. He clapped my shoulder, then steered me toward the small bar by the windows.
He poured two fingers each, no ice. “You did good,” he said under the hum of the HVAC. “I don’t know how, the blonde never folds quick.”
“She didn’t fold,” I said, taking the glass. “We traded clean. Predictable for punctual.”
He considered that, then huffed a laugh that barely ruffled his tie. “I’ll send the invoice schedule in an hour.” He drifted off to charm Pink Ear into not resigning on the spot.
Alina came to the bar like a tide that had decided where it would land. Up close, the watch at
her wrist wasn’t flashy; it was precise. “Mr. Donatello,” she said, accent light but present. “We
toast or we argue again?”
“I can multitask.” I tapped my glass to hers. “To not wasting each other’s time.”
She drank, eyes on mine over the rim, measuring, not flirting. “I will need your dispatcher’s cell and whoever has authority after midnight. I do not want to talk to a recording if a crane
eats a container at two a.m.”
“Hunter or me,” I said. “Jeremy on data if the problem is numbers pretending to be facts.” I wrote down the numbers and slid them over to her.
“Good.” She set her glass down, a neat circle on a napkin. “We will push you a live forty–eight- hour window through our TMS. EDI if your man is old–school; API if he is not.”
“He is not.”
“Then you will get berth locks, yard moves, and truck gate ETAS in real time.” She angled a look toward the contract on the table. “With this, your penalty becomes less a bat and more a
metronome.”
I liked the way she thought. “Metronomes keep bands honest.”
Chapter 204
“Exactly.” A small smile. “And sometimes put them to sleep.” She slid a card across the bar. The card was textured, the font unbothered. ALINA SOKOLOVA, Strategic Ops. Under it, a second line in smaller type: Night Control.
“You run nights yourself?
I asked.
“When it matters.” A shrug that said schedules bend for storms and fools. “Weather, union action, vessel late out of Santos… I sit in the tower and make sure no one lies to me and things run as they should.”
“Useful hobby.”
“Necessary one.” She tilted her head, studying the river like it might confess. “Also, I have no patience for ‘ghost delays.‘ You will find I am… how do you say…” She tapped the paper. “Predictably unpleasant to them.”
“You’ll fit in,” I said. “We like our lies small and declared.”
She laughed, quick and clean. “Then I tell you one thing off the record.” She slid the emp glass aside, leaned a forearm to the bar, close enough for confidence, not enough to cred “Medical freight has been messy at night. New vendors. Manifests that say ‘research.
for
equipment,‘ weights that are… inconsistent. Maybe nothing. Maybe someone moving biotech.”
I kept my face neutral, because that’s the work. “If you see creative manifests,” I said, “send Jeremy the container IDs. He’ll make a religion out of the paperwork.”
She nodded once. “I will send you anomalies, not gossip.”
“Appreciated.”
Luciano reappeared with a grin that meant Pink Ear had apologized to someone. “Alina, you’ll like working with my boys. They return calls and don’t cry about fees.”
“I like people who decide,” she said, sliding on her jacket. To me: “I expect your dispatcher details before midnight. I will send the window and the escalation ladder.”
“You’ll have them in an hour.”
She offered her hand again. Grip the same. “Then good day, Mr. Donatello.”
“Kaiden,” I corrected.
“Kaiden.” She held my eye a beat. “Do not be late when you are trying to be early. It confuses everyone.”
Chapter 204
When she was gone, the room felt warmer, somehow smaller. Luciano lifted his glass in a small salute. “You sure you’re all right?” he asked, softer now that the door had shut.
“No,” I said honestly. “But work is a good distraction.”
He nodded like that answer passed. “Handle the river.”
“Deal.”
I pocketed Alina’s card, texted Hunter to ask for dispatcher details, then sent Jeremy a quick: Heads up, night tower ally. Medical freight ‘research‘ flags. Build watchlist.
The river chopped under the wind. Predictable for punctual, I thought. We could live with that. And if “research equipment” turned out to be something ugly we’d make that clock stop, too.
Hunter
I got the text before I hit the driveway: She wants quiet. Be soft when you come in. I’m heading to L’s.
Copy. Shoes off at the door. Sweat cooling on my neck. House too still. Mia was at the table, standing, not sitting, fingers braced on the chair back like she might shove the room somewhere it didn’t hurt. One of Kaiden’s shirts, sleeves shoved to her elbows. The kettle sat full and cold, like it hadn’t earned heat today.
“Hey,” I said, soft enough not to ripple the air. “I’m back.”
She nodded without looking.
“I can disappear to the garage,” I offered. “Or make tea and vanish. Or start the shower and leave it running. What do you need from me right now, space, food, silence, a bad joke, or a
nap guard?”
Her jaw flicked. “I need you to stop asking me what I need every five minutes.”
The bite landed. Not a deep cut, sharp enough. I swallowed the reflex to fix the tone of the day. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll stop asking.”
“Stop hovering,” she added, eyes still on the wood grain. “I can feel it.”
“Okay,” again, because I meant it. I set a bottle of water within reach and backed off slower than my pride wanted. “I’ll be in the other room. Yell if the house catches fire.”
“Hunter.” She finally looked up, and the tired in it was marrow–deep. “Please.”
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“I hear you,” I said, and let the kitchen have her.
I did the quiet chores that don’t announce themselves: tossed my run clothes in the wash, wiped yesterday’s lemon ring off the counter, moved the vase of jacaranda blossoms to the window where the light could do better work. In the hallway I passed the nursery, the door still open that deliberate inch. The blue elastic on the rocker arm caught the light like a silly medal. I closed the door. There was no point in leaving it opened.
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