Bad Idea (Stonewall Investigations Miami Book 1) Read online

  I leaned toward Fox. “He’s one for the dramatics, huh?” I said in a hushed whisper.

  Fox chuckled and gave a small nod.

  “Detectives, meet my partners, Lucien and Pierre.”

  The two men who had been previously tangled together were now swimming lazily over to us. They looked like complete opposites, one with silky brown hair tied up in a messy bun and tattoos all over his body while the other one was as clean-shaven as they come, with a buzzed haircut and zero markings or body hair on him.

  “Lucien,” said the one with the bun and tattoos. He reached out a wet hand and we shook. Same with Pierre, who suggested the three of them get out of the pool and dry up.

  It was considerate. It made me like Pierre the most out of the trio, not that I had anything against the other two. As they got out of the pool and we talked some more, it was clear to see that Dylan was determined to put a stop to this. He made it obvious that he felt his club was being targeted and that the LGTBQ community which found an escape in Club Trinity were the ones who were being affected the hardest.

  He led us and his partners through an airy and well-decorated living room, windows all around which bathed the space in summer light. Past the white couches and around the cheetah statue we went, entering into a wide hall. I noticed a couple of photos hanging, showing the smiling trio on various occasions.

  “Right in here, gentlemen.” Dylan stepped aside and allowed us to enter first. I stepped into the living room, which was hard to classify as a room. It looked more like a greenhouse, with an entire wall and ceiling functioning as windows, giving us a gorgeous view of Biscayne Bay, the light blue waters rolling with the gentlest of waves just outside. Inside, there were dozens and dozens of plants of all kinds, some in hanging pots, others hanging out of their pots. There were brightly colored orchids and thick ferns and beautiful bromeliads.

  “Wow,” I said, looking around with admiration on my face. Even the air felt fresh. “This is stunning.”

  “Is it too hot? I can throw up the shades.” He went over to a button on the wall near the door, but I shook my head.

  “All right, perfect,” Dylan said. The men were still in their swim trunks, but they had each thrown on a shirt and wrapped a towel around their dripping waists.

  “Wine? Beer? Kombucha, anyone?” Pierre asked as he walked toward where I assumed the kitchen was. Fox shook his head, and I also politely declined. Lucien, on the other hand, asked for two cans for himself and went to go sit down on the dark red love seat.

  A rapid series of knocks from behind me turned all our attention. In the doorway was Walter, who had disappeared for a little bit. His hair was messy, and he looked slightly frantic.

  “So sorry, but I have to run, Dylan. My mom again.”

  Dylan nodded, his face showing that this has definitely happened before. “Go.”

  “Thank you.” Walter gave a tiny bow, turned on his heel, and disappeared again.

  We got comfortable around a dining table in the dining room, adjacent to the greenhouse of a living space. There was a flow of fresh air from the bay that beat back the oppressive heat that tried chasing you indoors.

  Dylan sat down at the head of the long table, putting his wineglass down with a clink on the polished wood. Pierre and Lucien were sitting on opposite sides of him.

  “Beautiful place you guys have,” I said, letting myself openly admire the modern and clean architecture mixed with some classic Miami flair. Most of the walls were a bright white except for one, a wall that popped since it was covered in bold prints of palm trees and deep green palm leaves. There was a neon flamingo that sat next to a black-and-white bookshelf next to a sunny reading nook, plenty of worn-out book spines staring back. None of the titles particularly jumped out at me. There was one book with its faded cover facing out: an old guidebook of Miami beach.

  It looked vintage and judging by its plastic cover, it may have even been valuable.

  “Thank you. It’s mostly all our fabulous interior designer. She’s worked on Jennifer Lopez’s place, right down the street, and after we saw Jen’s living room, we knew we had to get this entire place redone.”

  “Still have a couple of reno projects we want to tackle,” Lucien pointed out, “but so far, so good.”

  “Have to make sure we don’t blow it on our finances.” Dylan spoke as though there had already been a talk about blowing their finances.

  “We had to tighten our belts.” Lucien shrugged. “C’est la vie. Thankfully, things turned around for us.”

  “Well, the club isn’t my only business, baby.” Dylan sounded a little like someone tired of reminding people what they did. “We’ll always be fine.”

  “Still,” Pierre jumped in, “the club is a big part of our life. And a big part of the community, too. We may not have had full-capacity nights until recently, but all those faces I’d see every night inspire me. I loved seeing everyone having a great time every night; it didn’t matter that the dance floors were a little empty. These men and women were finding a place to let loose and be themselves, and now that’s threatened.” He was getting angrier the more he spoke; I saw it through the flush of pink rising up his neck, coloring his fair complexion. “You two need to stop it before it gets out of hand.”

  “We will,” I assured him.

  “I love you, Pierre, I love you so much, baby.” Dylan reached for Pierre’s hand and grabbed it, pulling it up to his lips and kissing him.

  “So, you mentioned that the club was quiet until recently. Is it because of the drug?” Fox was typing up his notes from the meeting on his phone, his big fingers flying across the screen.

  “For sure,” Lucien offered, “I’ve never seen our lines so long, and it all happened after the drug started to spread.”

  “It’s just a coincidence.” Dylan waved it off. “A good one. But I’ll take it.”

  Pierre perked up in his seat, cutting through the bullshit. “Really? You don’t think it has anything to do with the fact that, for some reason, this drug is only showing up at our doorstep? That’s being a little bit ignorant, Dylan.”

  I looked to Dylan, who bristled for a moment before moving on. “I don’t want that kind of business, then. I’d rather our club be a ghost town than a hotbed for a new drug that’s killing more people than it gets high.”

  Lucien’s enthusiasm about the drug and the business it stirred sparked a question. “Have any of you ever taken this drug?” I asked.

  Dylan shook his head vehemently. “Absolutely not, no. None of us have. Wouldn’t even know where to get the damn thing. If I did, I’d stop it.”

  “How has no one been able to track down the source if this is only centered around your club?” Fox asked, blunt with his question like a barbarian with a club. He looked to the three men, none of them being able to give an answer.

  “As the owners of Club Trinity, I don’t think many people really trust us. Not with information about their drug dealers. They know I’d shut that shit down in a second.” Dylan’s answer made sense, but it was still frustrating.

  Fox grinned then. It felt a little predatory, like a tiger who had cornered its shaking prey.

  It was kind of hot…

  “I was actually able to nail down someone selling it,” he said.

  “Oh?” Pierre perked up, his back straightening. A couple of golden bracelets clicked together on his wrist.

  “How have we not been able to find anyone dealing?” Lucien asked the room. He was shaking his head, jaw set, molars grinding. The messy bun of hair on his head was coming loose, silky strands making a break for it.

  “Because you’re usually too drunk to even see straight, Lucien, much less spot a secret drug deal,” Dylan shot back with a loving kiss on Lucien’s cheek before he moved over to Pierre’s side, putting a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Who’s the dealer?” Dylan asked. “Do we know them?”

  “I don’t know. All I’ve got is a screen name right now… guys ready?” Fox paused
for dramatic effect. “Dank69.”

  “Are you kidding me,” Pierre said, rolling his eyes.

  Fox chuckled, the sound feeling familiar to me for some reason. “If his creativity is any indication of his smarts, then I’ve got a feeling we’ll track this guy down sooner rather than later.”

  “What about your club’s security footage?” I asked.

  “We’ve got fifteen cameras, but with the flashing lights and the angles and the smoke, it’s hard to see anything useful, I’ll admit. We can get them to you.”

  “Actually—” Pierre raised his hand, finger extended skyward. “—we can’t.”

  “We can’t?”

  “Not yet at least. The system’s been corrupted by something for days now. I’ve been trying to get a tech guy in but with the Dragon development, time and resources have been limited.”

  “Do it yourself, then,” Dylan joked. At least, I assumed it was a joke until Pierre replied.

  “I already tried. Classes haven’t gotten that far yet.”

  “Classes?” I asked.

  “We like to enroll in community college classes every now and then to keep things sharp.” Dylan didn’t look thrilled by the idea, but Lucien was grinning wide.

  “I never went to college, so it’s been fun. We took Principles of Accounting last semester. This semester it’s coding and computer programming. What are we doing next after this semester?”

  “Philosophy,” Dylan said. “I skipped out this round with all that coding nonsense, but I’m looking forward to philosophy. That shouldn’t be too difficult, right?”

  Having taken philosophy in my own college courses, I didn’t want to burst his bubble by saying the opposite, so I stayed quiet.

  “Don’t forget the art class we signed up for. Art’s more my thing, but I’m trying to get these two into it.”

  “I just don’t have the same brain for art as I do for coding, you know?” Pierre shrugged. “Well, regardless,” he said, a light French accent coming through, “I can’t fix the issue, and the tech guys can’t make it out before we leave.”

  “Leave?” Fox asked.

  “Our honeymoon,” Lucien offered. “We’ve put it off, so we’re having one with compound interest taken into account.”

  Pierre laughed, an almost birdlike sound emitting from his pouty lips. Dylan looked at him with a kind of love I rarely saw these days reflected in his gaze. Lucien, too, was glowing as he looked between Dylan and Pierre.

  “We’re leaving for a couple of weeks on a Euro trip,” Pierre said. “It’ll be a great time. We’ll be making all the big stops and going a little off-road to visit our hometown.”

  “Our?” I asked.

  “Lucien and I were born and raised in Le Mans, France. That’s where we met. We got together and moved to Spain for a couple of years. Dylan was there on a business trip, and the rest is history.” Dylan leaned in and planted a kiss on Pierre’s cheek, leaving the man smiling from ear to ear.

  “And there’s no way we can get another tech team in before you guys leave?” I asked, feeling more pressed about the security footage than their trip itinerary.

  “We leave in five days. My guys are booked until the day after we leave, unfortunately.”

  I tried hard to control my expression. What kind of tech guys were these people using that they were so booked? “Mind if I have the contact info for them?”

  Lucien seemed to have stiffened. Something in his demeanor changed. “Why are you so interested in our geek squad? You’ll get the footage, give us a couple of weeks. Jesus. We’re the ones going through it over here, why are we being put through the ringer?”

  I literally just asked for contact information…

  Dylan put a hand on Lucien’s and squeezed. It seemed as though Dylan was trying to defuse him before things escalated. “Sorry,” Dylan said. “Tensions have been high around here. We’ll get you the information and the footage as soon as possible.”

  That was the answer we would have to take. Fox and I stuck around for a little longer, asking some more questions and making sure we didn’t step on any toes in the process. Lucien seemed agitated, but honestly, I didn’t really blame him. This was no joking matter. We were trying to take down an entire drug operation before it went platinum; all the while, these men faced the possibility of seeing their club shut down indefinitely.

  It was a stressful situation, to say the least. As we started saying our goodbyes and getting up from the table, I looked around and really realized where I was. Part of me couldn’t believe I was involved in all of this. I had been working as an unarmed security guard to make ends meet only a few months ago, a far cry from sitting inside of a mansion on Star Island, trying to figure out which big drug cartel was behind the spread of this new drug.

  And then there was Fox. I hadn’t known who he was until this morning, and now, as we walked back to the car, chatting in the Miami heat about the case, I felt like the morning happened ten years ago. I couldn’t explain what it was about him, but he put me at ease.

  That must be why I can’t stop sneaking glances his way. It’s because he makes me comfortable.

  That’s it.

  That’s the only reason…

  7 Gabriel “Fox” Morrison

  We were back in my car, the sun was setting, and my heart was beating pretty fucking fast. Why was it doing that? Ever since Jonah dropped into my orbit, my heart rate had been completely out of whack. Was it something I ate? Had to have been.

  It couldn’t be because I was finding it hard to stop looking at Jonah. Every time I glanced his way, I spotted something else I liked about him. He was like a damn gemstone, changing every time the light hit him. He reminded me of a rainbow lorikeet, a bird with an array of colorful feathers that seemed to shift and dance with even the slightest movement. Fascinating birds to watch, as Jonah was a fascinating man to observe.

  A straight man with a girlfriend.

  Reminding myself didn’t exactly stop the thoughts that were revving up in the same way my car was.

  During my time in the army, I had encountered a good number of guys who came off as straight but got off as a bottom. In this case, though, Jonah was taken and completely off the market. There was no bending the rules or awakening some suppressed side of himself.

  So stop thinking about sucking his dick.

  “This is going to be an interesting case, huh? Thanks for bringing me on as your partner. I really appreciate you giving me a shot.” Jonah was buckling his seat belt, and even though his face was turned away from mine, I could still hear the smile on his voice.

  “You kidding? I should be thanking you.”

  I started back onto the wide roads that led off the island. In my peripheral vision, I could make out Jonah and his spread legs, those big thighs of his that opened and closed to some unknown beat.

  A beat I wanted to learn and use and—

  Fuck. Stop.

  “So do you think Dylan’s behind it?” Jonah looked at me, dead serious in tone and expression.

  And then he cracked up. “Joking. Imagine, how crazy would that be?”

  “He’d be one stupid drug lord if he hired me to investigate his own shit.”

  “Seriously, he’d have to be on Dragon to even think about that.” He looked over at me as we rolled to a stop at a stop sign. “His assistant, though…”

  My turn to crack up. Jonah was a ball of fun and a half. That was something my grandpa would always say—“Oh, Shirley from down the street is a ball of fun and a half”; “Zane? He’s a ball of fun and a half”—and I found that whenever he used that term to describe someone, me and that person would get along without a hitch.

  The dashboard clock glowed in blue as the sun started to dip. It was six thirty, and I was shocked by how fast the day had gone by. “Want to grab something to eat?” I asked it without having any expectations, but I found myself suddenly hoping for a yes.

  Instead, Jonah pulled his phone from his pocket and checked
something.

  “It’s all right if—”

  “Yeah, let’s do it.” He put the phone back in his pocket, clapped his hands. “Want to do Luca’s? It’s a Cuban place down on Seventh Street.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I said, turning onto the street and pulling up at the security post so they could open the gates that led out of the island. “You know, that way we can talk some more about the case.”

  I wasn’t sure exactly what spurred me to qualify this dinner as something—anything—other than a date, but I did. This was more of a friendly business dinner than anything else, something I had to keep in mind because the A/C was carrying Jonah’s cologne over my way and holy fucking shit was it making me hard just imagining what that would smell like with my nose buried in his chest—

  I’m such a fucking idiot.

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

  Jonah could eat. I thought I was one to demolish a three-course meal, but Jonah was eating everything in sight and more.

  It was kind of cute.

  Straiiiight, you fucking oaf.

  “This place has crazy-good calamari, doesn’t it?” He wiped his lips with the soft white napkin. “And crazy-good people watching, too.”

  We were sitting at a small table on the restaurant’s covered patio, a small white fence dividing the restaurant from the sidewalk. To our side was the brightly lit Miami street beginning to fill with clubgoers and partiers, swapping out with the families and friends who had been out for a perfect beach day. People changed their bikinis and swim trunks to skintight dresses and heels, their dates in button-up shirts, with most of them unbuttoned, and equally skintight white pants.

  It was Miami, and I fucking loved it.

  “If I had a superpower I think it’d be invisibility so I could people watch all fucking day.” I put my wineglass down. “Sorry, that sounds creepy as fuck, doesn’t it?”

  “If it’s creepy, then call me Tim Burton, because I’d do the same exact shit.” He cracked that effortless smile of his. “Seriously, people watching is probably my favorite hobby. Besides cars, if I had to list them.”