Bad Idea (Stonewall Investigations Miami 1)

“Uh-uh,” I said, my turn to jump in. “We want the information first. Then we can consider if you’re trustworthy enough to bring on.”

Jonah nodded. Even though my attention was fully on Dank, I could still see Jonah from the side of my eye. I wanted to keep him in eyeshot at all times. “Exactly,” he said, solidifying my point.

Damn, we work well as a team.

I didn’t want to admit it earlier, but this entire endeavor was extremely risky. Not only we were entering into enemy territory, but our partnership was freshly minted and completely untested. We could have been like oil and water, and this entire operation could have been blown before it even began

But that wasn’t the case. I knew that wouldn’t be the case.

“You two are fucking crazy, I ain’t giving you shit.”

Damn it. Jonah’s plan wasn’t working. Dank was shutting down. He was shifting from white sneaker to white sneaker, his hands still in his pocket, eyes beginning to dart around the dusty and dirty street.

I had to bait him into giving us information. If he wouldn’t divulge it by himself, then I had to steer him with my questions. “Is it because of the North Tarantinos? We can offer you protection.”

There was an instant reaction, like throwing a spark into a gas tank. “The fuck you bring them up for, eh? No fucking way. I don’t deal with those fucks, man. Don’t even say their names again, all right?”

“So you don’t work with them?” I asked, pressing the issue.

“I fucking said no.” Dank spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ve got bad blood with them. So no, the NoTas have nothing to do with Dragon.”

Bad blood. The North Tarantinos killed someone Dank cared about; no wonder he was so vehemently against them. Okay, so that was one chunk of gold that I had to store away. The North Tarantinos may not have been involved in this like I’d thought they were…

It shot my entire theory down and dead, but at least we were getting somewhere now.

“Then who’s got you running so scared?” Jonah wasn’t backing down. “Why can’t you tell us who to contact?”

“Because I don’t know, all right? I don’t fucking know who’s pulling the strings behind Dragon. They set up anonymous drops. I pick up my supply, drop off my payment, and go on my merry fucking way.”

“Why Club Trinity? Why are you dealing primarily there? Dragon hasn’t shown up anywhere else.”

“It’s one of the conditions.”

That made me reflexively arch a brow. “Conditions?”

“To sell. It’s got to be on Club Trinity property. If I sell anywhere else, my supply gets cut.”

Jonah and I shared a brief look. “Is this the first time you’ve ever heard of this ‘condition’?” I asked.

“Yeah. Whoever’s running this Dragon shit is organized as fuck. They treat it like a fucking soda business or some shit. Crazy shit, but I’ve made some serious bank off it, so I can’t complain.”

There was a sound, like a twig crunching. It was brief but enough for me to be put on edge. I looked around Dank, into the shadows that stretched into the warehouse behind him.

“But you don’t know who’s actually running it? Who created this?”

Dank shook his head, beady eyes jumping between Jonah and me. “Everything is done through a phone system. I call a number and someone answers. They use a voice distortion thing every time, so I can’t tell shit about them. There was only one time it dropped; dude sounded like he had an accent. European, I think. Then they send me a message telling me where to go to pick my shit up.”

“Where do you pick up your supply?” I asked. I could feel Dank getting more and more suspicious of us by the second. His hands had come out of his pocket, but they were fidgety, and his lids were narrowing into slits as he looked us over.

“You know what? I think I’m done talking to you two. I’ve got a feeling my business is fine without anything you have to offer.”

Shit. We were losing him, and although we’d managed to collect a few nuggets of useful intel, there was still a lot left that I wanted answered.

“Are there a lot of dealers out there? Does this operation look like it’s gearing up?”

He crossed his thin arms. A twisted smile bared his yellowed teeth. “You know, this is starting to sound a whole lot like a police interview to me.”

“We’re not cops,” I assured him. “If we were, we would have taken you down when you admitted to dealing.”

“Not unless you two are fishing for an informant.”

“That’s not how it’s done,” Jonah chimed in. I didn’t have to look to Dank to know that Jonah had messed up.

“And how would you know how it’s done?” Dank took a few steps back, creating distance between us. “Huh, pig?”