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t w e n t y - f o u r : problems
Drake’s POV
“What is it now?” I snap.
“Problem at the oil rig,” the tattooed beast mumbles.
“What fucking oil rig? We have hundreds of—”
He dangles a bag of white powder before I can finish my sentence.
Oh. Oil rig.
I sigh, rubbing my temples. “What kind of problem?”
“Some managers”—law enforcement— “stumbled on”—busted—“some weird activity”—our illegal drug business— “among the
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