Chapter 4: Infiltrating the Core

Carter made the call two days later. The meeting was set for after dark in a warehouse district just off Moncrief—old brick buildings, chain-link fences, and loading bays that stayed empty after the legitimate businesses closed. Mace drove. Emily rode in the passenger seat in dark jeans and a fitted black top, her hair pulled back, the same calm expression she used at the clinic when a patient was about to get difficult. Neither of them spoke much on the way.

Carter was already there when they pulled up, leaning against a concrete pillar inside the open bay door. He nodded once and led them deeper into the building, past stacked pallets and a row of empty offices. The air smelled like oil and damp concrete. At the far end, three men waited under a single hanging work light. The one in the center was Alonzo—mid-forties, broad through the shoulders, gold chain visible at the open collar of his shirt, eyes that moved over both of them without hurry.

“Carter says you used to wear badges,” Alonzo said. His voice was low and flat. “Says you know how to keep your mouths shut and your hands useful. I don’t trust badges. Even old ones.”

Mace kept his posture easy, hands visible. “We’re not wearing them now. We’re here because the money’s better than what we’re making on the outside. You want product moved and protected without the usual heat. We can do that.”

Alonzo studied him, then looked at Emily. His gaze stayed on her longer. “She’s with you?”

“She’s with me,” Mace said.

Alonzo’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “Then she needs to prove she’s not here to listen and report back. Everybody who walks in here has to show they’re not standard informants. Especially the ones who used to carry a gun for the city.” He nodded toward a metal desk against the wall, its surface scarred and dusty. “She puts her hands on that desk. Right now. You watch. If she does what she’s told, we talk business. If she doesn’t, you both leave and we forget Carter ever mentioned your names.”