Bastien
The SUV pulled into the warehouse, and I left the back seat and entered the rear of the building. The double doors were open to the next room, the processing facility where we organized all the taxes paid by the dealers in the city.
Cash was everywhere, stacked on tables, workers dropping piles into automatic machines that counted the bills digitally, while guards paced the room with rifles in case anyone slipped a bill into their pocket.
When I entered the room, everyone paused what they were doing to sneak a glance.
I pretended not to notice.
I headed into the next room, where Luca sat with some of the guys, his laptop open on the table. Poker chips were in the center, and it looked like they were playing a hand rather than getting s**t done.
“What the f**k are you doing?”
