“No,” she muttered. “I’m trying, but a lot of it is in code. He was smart enough to encrypt damn near everything or have someone else do it.”

“How long do you think it’ll take you to get through it?”

“I’m not sure if I should.”

I paused and gripped the steering wheel. “What?”

“You’re getting obsessed,” she said evenly. “I don’t want to be part of the reason you spiral.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Just do it, Chelsea. Or give it back, and I’ll find someone who can do their fucking job.”

“Fine. Jerk.”

She hung up, and I stared at the screen. Great. On top of feeling sick, I felt like an asshole too. I thumped my head against the steering wheel. I’ll apologize to her later. I was so close to figuring out what was going on, but I needed more. Learning about Brycen was a pet project. I had no idea if I could pin it on Enzo. Or if it would be enough. I had to keep digging.

I was so close to making detective I could taste it. One big case, and I would be there. I rolled my shoulders, trying to ease the tension that made them tight. But it stayed there like a stone making my chest constrict and my skin feel tight.

I could be on the verge of getting everything I wanted. So, why did it feel so empty?

Chapter 14

The smell of cigarettes weighed heavily in the air as I stood by the dock. Even the salty smell of the ocean couldn’t force it away. My eyelids fluttered closed. I needed a second to get myself together. I was doing that a lot lately, trying to grab onto the control I prided myself on. But the moment I relaxed, the bluest eyes appeared before me framed by thick black lashes on a clean-shaven face. A sharp jawline that was perfect for nibbling on and soft pink lips that tilted up in a daring smile.

“Open the crate,” Benito said.

My eyes flashed open at Benito’s voice, and I forced it all down. If my brother noticed how out of it I was, history would repeat itself. I couldn’t go through that again.

Three of our men jammed crowbars under the thick wood lid and cracked it open. The cover thunked down on the ground next to the box as the contents were revealed. Or lack of.

“Fuck,” Gin groaned. Our eyes locked for a second before we both looked at Benito. He stood over the empty crate that was supposed to be holding the shipment of guns. Ones that we’d already sold.

“Open all the fucking boxes,” Benito said through clenched teeth.