Chapter 9
“What the hell are you doing here?” I mumble to myself. No one is around to hear me, but I voice my question, anyway.
I followed Moore out of the restaurant and across town to a shipment yard. I’m parked at the back of the lot behind a massive shipping container that hides my car perfectly.
Moore came in and drove to the front of this lot, close to the water. His car is in plain view, so whatever he’s doing here, he isn’t trying to hide. That means he’s likely here often enough to be at least partially welcome.
There seems to be a night crew working, but not in this lot. I watch men come and go through the gate behind me. No one seems to notice either of us.
So far, all Moore has done is a lot of fucking nothing. He hasn’t gotten out of his car once, and from here, it looks like he’s been on his phone nearly the entire time. I can see the screen on his phone light up from here every time he checks it.
I pull out my binoculars. First, I look at the work crew across the way. Nothing seems out of the ordinary there. One guy has snuck off behind a shipping container to smoke, but other than that, nothing off to report here. I don’t think Moore is here to meet one of them.
I turn to look at Moore’s car and notice his head resting against the driver’s seat headrest. No longer on the phone now, his eyes are closed, and he seems to be in deep thought. I look down at my watch and note that we’ve been here roughly thirty minutes already.
I’m tired and confused as hell as to why he’s just sitting in a shipping yard. It could be for work, like he told Jade. Maybe he’s meeting a client who’s running extremely late. However, I have enough experience in situations like this that I highly doubt whatever is going on tonight is on the up and up.
The only reason you come to a dark and obscure place is to hide something. Moore has checked off every metaphorical box on the list of signs someone is hiding something from their significant other. He’s definitely keeping something from Jade; I just don’t know what yet. Util I have something concrete, I won’t tell her.
My phone silently vibrates in the car’s console. I place the binoculars on the passenger seat, reach for my phone, and then turn it over to see who it is.
Donovan.
Fucking finally.
I called him back right after leaving the restaurant, but he didn’t answer. I assume he was still tailing Vinny.
“Yo, you find anything else?” I ask instead of a formal greeting.
“Not much. I sat at the bar and watched them until Vinny got a phone call and left out the back. Some of his crew followed him, while the others stayed back at the bar.”
“Any idea who this guy is?” I’m hoping we can get a better idea of who we’re dealing with here. Donovan has connections I don’t, some of which that would be very useful here.
“No, but I know somebody who might. I’ll put some feelers out there and see what comes back.”
“Discretely, I assume.” It should go without saying, but I want to be crystal clear here.
“What do you take me for? An idiot?” Donovan asks, affronted by my concern.
“You know I don’t, but with how much this client is up my ass, I can’t afford any mistakes. Might be the first case I actually get fired from.”
I think about how I called her gorgeous right before hightailing it out of the restaurant like a lovesick shmuck.
Not my best move.
Donovan barks out a laugh. “From what I hear, Jade Foster has it as bad for you as you do her. I doubt you’re fucking getting fired. My money’s on getting fucked a different kind of way though.”
His laughing only intensifies when I respond. “I wouldn’t fuck her if my life depended on it.”
“Sure, sure, and my momma’s a famous opera singer.”
“Fucker,” I growl out.
“Sucker,” he fires right back.
Another groan escapes me as he laughs. “Look, we can agree to disagree here, but just to be clear, I don’t like Jade Foster, nor do I have any desire to sleep with her. She’s a client, a fucking annoying one at that.”
“Hate sex is the best kind of sex, Colin. You should try it.” He’s only goading me more, and I won’t get sucked into it.
I look in my rearview mirror in time to catch a gray sedan pulling onto the lot. What piques my interest is they cut their headlights as soon as they enter. They also don’t turn right, where the crew is working. They head in my direction.
Well, well, well… What do we have here?
“I have to go. Call you later.” I end the call before waiting for a response from Donovan. The car creeps in my direction, the headlights still out.
I slide down in the seat to avoid being seen. If this has anything to do with Moore, I need to be extra careful, and my gut screams that it does.
I shrink down enough to obscure my body from view just as the car passes by. They’re maybe forty feet from where I’m parked, and still creeping along in the dark alley between containers while headed straight for Moore.
The car pulls off to the left behind another shipping container—effectively moving out of my view—instead of continuing straight into the open area where Moore’s black SUV sits.
I can only see the small plume of exhaust disappear as they kill the engine, but I hear no doors shut, indicating no one makes a move to get out. I shift in my seat, trying to get a better angle to see into the car, but I can’t make out shit. It’s dark, and the car is even darker. I reach for my binoculars, hoping they’ll help me see into the car.
I look over to where Moore is still parked, wondering if he saw them come in. Maybe this is who he’s here to meet. Seems unlikely though, since neither party is approaching the other.
Is he being tailed by someone else?
The question floats into my mind, and I toss around the possibility. I know for a fact no one has followed him since I started. I would’ve picked up on that. But the way they entered the lot then positioned themselves to have a clear view of Moore without his knowledge sure seems like a fucking tail.
Before I can get into a better position to use the binoculars, Moore’s taillights suddenly come on as he puts the car into reverse. I glance over at the mystery car and hear the engine roar to life right behind Moore’s.
Moore’s car whines as he steps on the accelerator while in reverse before putting it in neutral, whipping the car around, and shoving it into drive. His tires spin out on the gravel as he hightails it out of the open area. He drives straight back toward me, passing the other car on the way. I slink down further into my seat, making sure no part of my body is visible as Moore speeds past.
The undisclosed dark gray sedan revs its engine, whips around much like Moore had done, and then speeds out of the shipping yard behind Moore. Right as it passes, I barely make out two men in the front seats, but I can’t see anything more than their dark figures.
Well, hot damn!
I might not be the only one interested in Moore’s whereabouts.
Now I have more questions burning in my mind that need answers. Most importantly, what the hell is Moore up to, and who is his other tail?
There’s only one way to find out.
Without another moment’s thought, I start my car, and slam it into drive. I turn and head through the exit and turn right out of the parking lot. I press hard on the gas, speeding down the road until I catch a glimpse of the gray sedan ahead of me.
Easing off the accelerator, I leave some distance between me and the unknown second tail. I don’t see Moore’s SUV ahead of them, and I wonder if he outmaneuvered them to get away.
Either way, I want to know who these guys are, and, more importantly, why they’re following Moore. I keep my distance, but I’m sure to keep their taillights in sight. It isn’t long before I start to recognize my surroundings. We’re headed towards the dive bar, Vinny’s spot.
The gray sedan turns into the parking lot, but I’m far enough back I can drive by and get a look at whoever gets out if they’re quick. I pass the parking lot and try to get a good look at the guys getting out, but it’s no use. Aside from the fact that one of them is unusually tall and slender, they look like two ordinary guys.
I drive a couple of more blocks, then loop back around after allowing them time to get inside. When I park—choosing a spot close enough to the door for a quick getaway if needed—I fish a baseball cap from my glove box and pull it down tight on my head. I need to go inside to see if I can get a better look.
I quickly snap a picture of the tag on the gray sedan as I pass by it. Maybe I can get a lead from the owner of the vehicle.
As I walk in, my eyes scan the room. I straighten my cap when I immediately recognize Vinny’s voice from the recording Donovan sent me earlier. He’s on my left as I walk through the door, sitting at his table.
I spot Donovan at the bar before he sees me. I walk up behind him, and, just as I go to place my hand on his shoulder, he turns his stool, facing me. He cuts his eyes around the room, making sure no one has noticed us.
“Colin,” he says with a nod and a sly grin. He tilts his head toward the barstool beside him before he turns back to face the bar.
“Donovan,” I reply in a hushed tone as I take a seat beside him.
He takes the shot of whiskey in front of him and tosses it back without making a face.
The bartender comes over, a different man than the one I talked to several nights ago. I don’t recognize this guy. I order a beer, and without a word, he pulls it from the mini-fridge, pops the cap off in the blink of an eye, and slides it over to me. His attention is on someone else as he mindlessly wipes the bar while his gaze is locked on Vinny’s table. I don’t turn to look, but whatever is going on has this bartender concerned.
“Nothing?” I ask Donovan under my breath without turning to look at him.
“Just chit chat since those two guys walked in.” He taps his glass on the bar top, signaling the bartender to bring him another. The bartender is there quickly, turning the whiskey bottle up to fill Donovan’s glass.
I sip my beer casually and glance at the TVs playing above the bar. Different sports games are on, but none of my teams. I look around, hoping a table will become available. Having our backs to Vinny and the guys is the worst vantage point.
“Those guys were tailing Moore,” I explain, taking another pull of my beer.
“Hm. Explains the, ‘We lost him boss,’ the tall, goofy-looking one said when they came in,” Donovan says.
I stifle a laugh. That explains my theory that Moore made them and shook the tail. Moore has turned out to be more competent than I first calculated, which means I may need a new way to go about this.
An idea brews. I don’t have much experience in the area, but the man sitting next to me does.
“What do you think Vinny’s deal is?” I ask to test the waters.
I have my suspicions and wonder if Donovan agrees with me. I keep my voice low. The bartender tends to customers at the far end of the bar away from us. Right now, it’s just the two of us down here.
Donovan drops his shoulder and chin. The movement ensures that his lips are from view. “I think he’s a mid-level drug runner. I just don’t know who he works for yet.” He furrows his eyebrows, like the question aggravates him. An itch that he can’t quite scratch.
“Hmmm, that’s exactly what I was thinking, too. But are we dealing with a local gang, or is this bigger than we think? I’m worried it’s bigger since they were able to pull in Moore. They would have to have a lot of money running through the city to entice someone of Moore’s status.”
He clears his throat and takes a sip of his whiskey, nodding at the TV like we’re talking about the game. I plaster on a smile and bang on the bar top just as a team on the screen scores. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about the team, but we need it to look like we’re two friends out here, enjoying a drink and the game.
Donovan playfully groans, “Get your shit together, guys!”
After a few minutes, Donovan finally responds. “I think you’re probably right. We can’t discount that people do some pretty stupid shit when they’re desperate, and it looks like Moore is pretty damn desperate.”
“That’s my boys!” I holler out just as the team scores again.
“What the hell!” Donovan responds.
I shove his shoulder for good measure just as the game goes into half time.
“I’ve been following him for weeks, and there’s nothing concrete so far. I think I need to approach this different this time.”
He raises his whiskey glass and takes another sip. “What did you have in mind?”
“I’m thinking full-on infiltration, old school style.”
Donovan laughs as he slaps me on the back, hard. His laughs don’t die down as he asks, “You?”
It’s my turn to be affronted. “Yeah, me. Got a problem with that?”
His chuckles die down and turn into a smirk. “Just never thought you had it in ya, brother. This is the big boys’ league.”
“I can fucking do it.”
“Sure, sure, and how the hell are you gonna get in, pretty boy?”
“I have a plan; I just may need a little help.”
He groans at my response. “Figures. We gotta talk to Liam first. This wasn’t how this case was supposed to go, and this shit can get very dangerous, very quickly.”
“He’ll clear it. We both want Jade off our case and this whole thing done. This is the quickest way.”
Donovan turns toward me finally, a serious look of contemplation on his face. “I’m not sure you know what you’re signing up for, kid. But if you need my help, I’m there.”
I won’t need it; this should be a breeze. Get in, get the answers I need, and get the fuck out.
What could go wrong?