As I place it on the shelf in front of me, a name on the shipping label catches my eye.

Ezra Hawthorne.

Hawthorne Wholesale.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Grabbing the box, I look at Mateo. “Do you know this guy?”

“Ezra? Yeah he’s the new manager. That’s why we have all this new merch.”

“I thought your aunt and uncle owned the store,” I shot back a little too eager for information.

“Nah,” he answered easily. “Ezra bought it after the hurricane last year. We almost lost everything.”

I nearly forgot about the big storm that ripped through the coast last September. It’s not out of the ordinary for Wicked to get storms, but this one hit us harder than we expected it to. A lot of businesses nearly went under after that.

And if it were anyone else who saved Mateo’s family from going hungry, I would call them a hero, but this was Ezra. He never missed an opportunity to cash in where he could, and if he bought the store...using it as a front to distribute...I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.

I don’t want to come on too strong at first, but pieces are suddenly coming together. If Mateo is being pressured by someone to push product around town...someone who has something to hold over him...like his visa, this could make my job a lot easier.

“He’s a good guy?” I ask, just trying to get a feel for the boy’s thoughts.

He shrugs and gives me a non-committal answers. “Sure.”

I knew Ezra was in town, working in distribution, but this tie between him and the recent drugs bust has to be more than a coincidence.

I have to be careful about how I approach this now. Putting too much heat on Mateo could backfire, and he’ll turn to Ezra for help. The whole operation could implode before I even have a chance to make a move. But lucky for me, I have someone else I can pressure about this.

Shelby

I make it three days before cracking. Every time I pass his door, I wonder if he’s inside. I think about the way his rough lips felt against mine. My wrists in his hands.

But it was the crummy day I had today that has me standing in front of his door now. Every visit felt like bad news after bad news, and it wears me down. I need something to take my mind off of it. Something to think about other than Mrs. Yan’s face when I told her to stay by her husband as much as possible because his days are almost over. Something to take my mind off the fact that he didn’t smile one time to me today. Something to take my mind off the fact that I think my brother is involved in something crooked and I can’t do anything to stop it.

So I wait in my apartment until I hear him enter his. Now I’m standing here, ready to knock without knowing exactly what I’m getting myself into. It could be wonderful, but it could be terrible. I could get hurt, in more ways than one.