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“So a drug case?” Jonah said, after going through the binder. “Dragon?”
“Yeah, it’s bad and it’s getting worse.” I took the binder back, set it on the desk. “I’ll make copies of all this and give it to you. But you probably got the gist of it: the owners of Club Trinity want this stopped before it decimates the gay community and spreads out even further. DEA is about to shut the entire club down, but the owner, Dylan, he’s got connections everywhere. He was able to pull some strings and keep things running for now, but he’s hoping we can stop the source of this shit before more lives are lost and his entire livelihood is thrown away in the process.”
“Shit,” Jonah said. “So it hasn’t spread, then? It’s mostly concentrated here in Club Trinity.”
“Seems to be. There are a few isolated incidents I’ve picked up on, but nothing further than a fifteen-mile radius from the club. It’s bad. This shit is fucking kids up, mainly gay kids. And when they aren’t OD’ing, they’re apparently experiencing a massive and addictive high.”
“And you think this guy, Castel Rico, is behind it? The head of the North Tarantinos cartel?” He was referring to one of the last pages in the binder. I had watched him skim over it, but I didn’t realize just how much detail Jonah had retained for the short time he had with my notes and findings.
“He’s on the top of the list.” I opened the drawer again, the space already filling up with files and binders even though I’d only been in this office for less than a month. “Here, check this out.” I pulled out my dark green folder, the one holding everything I had on the North Tarantinos cartel.
I had pretty much memorized everything that was in the folder: surveillance footage of a drug trade with men wearing the North Tarantino colors, a bag of small, circular green pills being swapped between them. It was taken four blocks away from Club Trinity, and then the same man was seen in line to enter Club Trinity that night. There were photos of another drug trade, the same pills being swapped with different men involved, still wearing the same shade of browns and blacks.
“It does seem like NoTas could be the source of this…” Jonah sounded apprehensive to me. He shifted in his seat, cracked his knuckles, then handed back the folder. He chewed on his lip
—something I wouldn’t mind doing to him.
“What are you thinking?” I asked point-blank.
“How did you…”
“You wear your thinking face like I wear my favorite jock.”
Jonah snorted at that. “And how is that?”
“Boldly.” I cracked a smile and crossed my arms.
“Boldly, huh?” Jonah tilted his head. The way the sunlight bounced off his eyes had me hypnotized. “I didn’t even know you were wearing a jockstrap—how can that be boldly?”
“Wait until I’m off the clock,” I said, chuckling. “Zane put in a strict ‘no jockstrap’ policy during work.”
“Ah, gotcha.” He was smiling wide, small dimples forming on his cheek. “Zane Holden, he’s the founder, right? I did some research a few days ago. Read all about how Zane and his husband stopped that sick fuck. The Unicorn.”
Nodding, I let my gaze drift out the window. Outside, I could see the small recreational area we shared with the building next door. It was a well-taken-care-of garden with benches and tables and plenty of shade offering an escape from the heat. “Thank God,” I said. “So many innocent men lost their lives… and then to discover who it really was, fuck. Right under their noses the entire time.”
“Talk about trust issues.” Jonah shook his head. “I’m not, you know, a serial killer or anything. In case you were wondering. Although now that I’m thinking about it, that could be a serial killer thing to say, but I… well, you know, you…”
I noticed Jonah getting a little frazzled again. I jumped in, rescuing him. “Don’t worry, Andrew followed up on your references and went through with the background check you had verified. We know you’re good.” I cracked a smile. “Besides, with that baby face of yours, I’d be shocked to find out you even step on cracks because you’re scared of breaking your mama’s back.”
Jonah paused for a moment before laughing. “I also don’t walk under ladders and cross in front of black cats.”
“Cross… in front of them? You know it’s when they cross in front of you that the bad luck happens, right?”
He arched a brow and his lips parted into an O. It was a nice shape. “Oh. Hmm.” His eyes narrowed. “Really?”
And then I tilted my head. “Wait, are you being serious?”
Jonah shrugged. “Possibly.” He put up a finger. “Or should I say… ‘purr-sibly’?”
“You’re something else,” I said, laughing, enjoying the moment. As the seconds ticked on by, I was feeling more and more confident about my decision to not only hire Jonah, but also ask him to help on this drug case. I was quickly discovering that I could also really use Jonah’s company along with his help. There was something about him that made me want to be around him. A light that drew me to him. I couldn’t help but be pulled in by it, although I couldn’t be overwhelmed by it. I knew Jonah would have zero interest in me, at least in the way I was interested in him, and that was fine, totally fine. Completely fucking fine.
