7. Tyson

7

TYSON

I slam my fist against one of the tent poles, my cock throbbing from Sofia’s body in my arms. “What the fuck, Lars? You couldn’t wait five fucking minutes?”

Lars shifts his weight, running a hand through his dark hair. “Boss, I’m sorry about the cockblock, but we’ve got bigger problems.”

“Bigger than me getting somewhere with Jimmy’s daughter?” The tension in my shoulders builds as I adjust myself, trying to get comfortable.

“The Friday shipment.” Lars’s voice drops lower. “Just got word twenty kilos went missing from our supplier’s warehouse.”

“Fuck!” I kick over a nearby chair, sending it clattering across the ground. “That’s almost half our order. Jimmy’s gonna have my balls in a vice if we can’t deliver.”

“That’s not all.” Lars crosses his arms. “Word is it wasn’t random. Someone knew exactly what they were looking for.”

The implication hits me like a punch to the gut. We’ve got a leak somewhere in the supply chain, and now I’ve got to deal with this shit instead of pursuing Sofia. Between my blue balls and this clusterfuck, my mood turns darker by the second.

“Get Phoenix, Nash, and Colt. Meeting in my trailer in ten. And Lars?” I fix him with a hard stare. “Next time you interrupt me with a woman, it better be because the whole fucking carnival’s on fire.”

He nods and strolls out.

I rest my forehead against the cool metal of the tent pole, the same one that had supported Sofia’s weight moments ago. Her scent still lingers—a mix of vanilla and something uniquely her. My dick throbs in my pants, though the urgency has faded since Lars’s interruption.

“Fuck.” I exhale, squeezing my eyes shut. The memory of her soft curves pressed against me, the way she melted into my kiss—it’s all burned into my brain. The little whimper she made when I pulled her closer.

I straighten, adjusting myself in my jeans. My fingers trace the metal tent pole, remembering how perfectly she fit there.

“Get it together,” I mutter to myself. I can’t afford distractions, not with this shipment mess threatening everything I’ve built. But damn, if Sofia Moretti isn’t the most delicious distraction I’ve ever encountered.

The tent feels empty now, hollow without her presence. The usual carnival sounds seem muted like they’re coming from miles away. My skin still burns where she touched me, and my lips tingle from our kiss.

I push off the pole, rolling my shoulders back. Time to switch gears and deal with this situation. But as I turn to head toward my trailer, my cock gives another defiant throb, reminding me exactly what I’m walking away from.

Jimmy Moretti’s daughter. Of all the women to get tangled up with, I had to pick her. And now I’ve got to figure out how to tell her father that his shipment’s been compromised. Perfect fucking timing.

I storm into my trailer, the door banging against the wall. The usual suspects are already here—Lars leaning against the counter, Colt sprawled on my couch, Nash perched on the arm, and Phoenix pacing by the window.

“Someone better have answers,” I growl.

Phoenix stops his pacing, his expression softer than usual. Ever since he met Tilly, he’s lost that perpetual scowl. He’s still a grumpy bastard half the time, but at least now he cracks the occasional smile.

“Got some leads on who might’ve hit the warehouse,” Phoenix says, pulling out his phone. “Security footage shows three guys, professional job. In and out in under ten minutes.”

“They knew exactly what they were looking for,” Lars adds, echoing his earlier warning.

Nash leans forward, his grace evident even in that simple movement. “Inside job?”

“Has to be.” Colt sits straighter. “No way they’d know which shipment to hit otherwise. ”

I rub my temples, the headache from earlier intensifying. “Show me the footage.”

Phoenix hands over his phone. The video quality is shit, but I can make out three figures moving with military precision through the warehouse. They bypass other valuable merchandise, heading straight for our shipment.

“Any faces?” I ask.

“Masked,” Phoenix confirms. “But check out how they move. Ex-military, maybe private security. These aren’t street thugs.”

“Great.” I toss the phone back at Phoenix. “So we’ve got professionals stealing our shit, and I’ve got Jimmy Moretti breathing down my neck, expecting his order.”

The memory of Sofia’s kiss flashes through my mind, making this situation even more complicated. Her father is not just a client anymore—he’s the father of the woman I can’t get out of my head—a woman who is engaged to another one of my clients.

“Options?” I look around at my most trusted crew. These men have never let me down before. We’ll figure this out. We have to.

I lean back in my chair, rubbing my jaw as Lars speaks up.

“I’ve been looking at the numbers, boss. If we drop Paulie or Frank’s shipment, we can deliver it to Jimmy. Just put the smaller fish off for now.”

“You want me to stiff either the future son-in-law of Jimmy Moretti or the guy who’s been with us since day one?” I shake my head. “That’s a powder keg waiting to blow. ”

“Frank’s been getting cocky,” Nash chimes in. “Acting like he owns us.”

“And Paulie’s a piece of shit,” Colt adds. “Everyone knows it.”

My mind drifts to the memory of Sofia and how she looked at me in that tent. The thought of her marrying that bastard Paulie makes my blood boil. But business is business. Isn’t it?

“Either way, someone’s going to be pissed,” Phoenix points out. “The question is, who can we afford to have gunning for us?”

Lars crosses his arms. “Jimmy’s the biggest player in Dawsbury. We lose him, we can’t move the product.”

He’s right. Jimmy Moretti could crush us without breaking a sweat. But crossing either Frank or Paulie could start a war we’re not ready for. Plus, there’s Sofia to consider. One wrong move and I could lose any slim chance with her.

I drum my fingers on the desk, weighing our options. The numbers don’t lie—we can only fully deliver to Frank or Paulie. Jimmy Moretti isn’t the type of man who accepts partial shipments. But do I piss off his future son-in-law or his rival?

I grind my teeth and am about to make a decision when Phoenix clears his throat. “Boss, you might want to check out what I found about the SUV owner and who he works for.”

“What?” I ask, walking over to the desk.

“He works for Frank. Frank tried to take out Jimmy’s daughter here at the carnival.”

“Motherfucker!” I growl, hands clenching by my sides. “Well, that decides it then. Frank’s out. He fucked up trying to kill Jimmy’s daughter on my turf. Consider this karma.”

Lars nods, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Want me to break it to him gently?”

“No. Not yet. I’ll tell him at our usual meeting. He’s lucky I don’t tell Jimmy it was him.”

Colt stretches his long frame on the couch. “Frank’s been pushing boundaries for a while. This’ll knock him down a few pegs.”

“More than a few,” Nash adds. “Without our supply, he’ll be crippled in Dawsbury. Jimmy will eat up his territory within weeks.”

“Exactly.” I crack my knuckles, satisfaction coursing through me. “Two birds, one stone. We keep Jimmy happy with his shipment, and Frank learns what happens when you fuck with the wrong people.”

The crew exchanges knowing looks. We’ve all been waiting for an excuse to cut Frank loose. His attempted hit on Sofia made the decision easier. Jimmy will crush him, and I won’t have to lift a finger.