Chapter 12
12
COURT
The August night was perfect. It was warm but not too hot, with a slight breeze that made the humidity bearable. Ryan and I had just finished dinner at a cozy Italian place in the North End, and now we were walking hand in hand along the waterfront.
Ryan looked over at me. “So, I was wondering. Does Courtland West have any future plans, or is working at the Sapphire Lounge what you want to continue doing?”
His question caught me off guard. It was easy to lie when I was on a job, but I was starting to think my desire to get closer to Ryan wasn’t just because of the job. I’d been playing Court West for a little more than a month now, and somehow it felt harder to lie to Ryan than to anyone else. Maybe because something about him made me want to drop the act and tell him what was really happening.
I was frustrated with everything, but I tried not to show it in front of Ryan. I should’ve had more by now—more solid leads, something that would bring me closer to taking Donnie and his supplier down. I’d even had Dalton run the fire stamp I saw on the tablet Mia took and nothing came back tying it to any drug organization.
It was clear Ryan had no idea who Donnie really was—or about the drugs he was running. But ending our relationship felt impossible. I didn’t want to lose what we had, even if we were just starting. The moment he had my dick in his mouth, I knew he wasn’t just someone to help me build my case.
Being with Ryan wasn’t a role I was playing anymore. I cared about him. And the worst part was he had no idea I was a cop doing his job. The more time I spent with him, the more I realized I was only digging a hole for myself, one that would hurt him when the truth finally came out.
I pushed the feeling aside and focused on his question. “Private security, maybe. It seems like a solid career, and it’s a good way to use the skills I’ve picked up. And how do you know my last name?”
He raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Donnie told Morgan.”
“Of course.” I chuckled.
“But private security? Like, bodyguard stuff?”
“Something like that,” I said, the lie tasting like ash in my mouth. “But, uh, not all the glamorous stuff you see in the movies. Just … you know, escorting clients and shit. That kind of thing.”
Ryan nodded slowly. “Hmm. Sounds like it could be a good fit for you. But if you want to do security, why stay at the club? Why not find a job in private security now?”
I hated that he was asking questions I couldn’t answer honestly. But I gave a half-shrug. “It’s a new idea I’ve had, and working at the club is paying the bills until I really know what I want to do.”
“I guess that makes sense. Maybe you could talk with Rhett? I know he’s Secret Service, but maybe he has some insight on that line of work.”
“Yeah, maybe, but what about you?” I asked, trying to shift the conversation because talking to Rhett would be pointless if Ryan offered to get me in touch with him again. “You ever think about doing something else? Or maybe starting your own firm?”
Ryan gave a small laugh. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m ready to go out on my own anytime soon, but maybe one day.”
“I get that.”
We kept walking for a while longer, the conversation drifting back to harmless topics. Eventually, we stopped at an ice cream cart near the pier, and Ryan grinned at me.
“Come on. Let’s get some ice cream. It’s practically a rule when you see an ice cream cart,” he said, pulling out cash.
I raised an eyebrow and grinned. “You know I bust my ass in the gym. You’re really going to make me get ice cream?”
“You only live once, right?”
“All right, all right. Twist my arm, why don’t you?” I chuckled. “I’ll take mint chocolate chip.”
He handed me my cone after he paid, and then laced his fingers with mine again. We’d been holding hands the whole time, but now the feeling of his skin against mine felt different, like I wasn’t just going through the motions anymore.
We continued walking along the harbor, both of us licking our ice cream. When I glanced over at him, I caught him looking at me with that wicked smile of his. “You’re a bad influence,” I said, taking another lick.
He bumped my shoulder lightly, still grinning. “If you start getting wild from all the sugar, I’ll keep you in line.”
I smiled. “I’m sure you’ll do a good job of that.”
Before I could finish my cone, my undercover phone buzzed in my pocket. Letting go of Ryan’s hand, I pulled out the burner cell and saw Donnie’s name flash on the screen.
“It’s Donnie. I should get this.” I answered the call. “Hey, boss!”
“I need you!” he yelled into the phone, clearly frantic. “You need to come to my place now! I’ll text you the address.”
“What? Why? What’s happening?” My eyes met Ryan’s as he arched a brow. I lifted a shoulder.
“It’s Morgan,” Donnie clipped. “She’s acting like Mia did before she passed out. You need to get here right now!”
“What’d she take?” My stomach dropped as I continued to stare at Ryan. He had no clue what Donnie was saying on the other end, and I knew he wasn’t going to take it well that his sister was on the verge of an overdose—if what Donnie was saying was true.
“Just Molly, man. I don’t know why this is happening! Please hurry!”
The line went dead.
“Everything okay?” Ryan asked as I took the phone away from my ear.
I swallowed hard; the words were caught in my throat. I didn’t want to say it. “It’s Morgan … Donnie gave her Molly, and he thinks she’s ODing. He needs my help.” Except what I had in my first aid kit couldn’t help with an overdose on MDMA.
Ryan’s face went pale. “Needs your help? Why didn’t he call 911?”
“I don’t know, but the same thing happened to a dancer the other night.” I grabbed his hand again, and we started to run back to the garage where I’d parked, tossing our ice cream in a nearby garbage can on the way.
“And what happened to her?”
“I saved her, but I was next to her when it happened.” It was a good thing the fentanyl that contaminated Mia’s pill wasn’t strong enough to outlast the Narcan I gave her.
“Why is he not calling 911?” Ryan repeated.
“I don’t know,” I said again. We stopped on the corner as cars drove by and I looked over at him. I couldn’t tell him that I really knew why: Donnie was scared the cops would get involved and that would be bad since it was his drugs. Or were they? I still wasn’t sure what he actually sold.
“Then let’s call,” Ryan pleaded. “Paramedics can get there faster than us.”
I turned to him, placing my hands on his shoulders and making sure he was looking into my eyes. I hated that his sister was in trouble, but I needed to see if the drugs were laced with something and the only way I could do that was to give Morgan Narcan just like I gave Mia. “I know you’re freaking out, but I won’t let anything happen to your sister.”
He stared at me a beat and then asked, “Where are they?”
“Donnie’s place.”
He looked around. “That’s just a few blocks over, isn’t it?”
I know. “I think so. He texted me the address. Let’s run back to my car and drive over.”
The crossing sign beeped to indicate it was okay to walk, and I took his hand once more and we bolted toward the garage.
I parked around the corner at Donnie’s building, grabbed the Narcan from my first aid bag, and then Ryan and I hurried to the front door. Lucky for me, the doorman at the entrance wasn’t the same one who’d been there the day I showed up while Donnie was at the prison.
“We’re here to visit Donnie Pierce,” I said to the man.
“Mr. West?” I nodded, showing him my fake ID, and he handed me a keycard. “This will get you to his floor.”
I grabbed it. “Thank you.”
Once we were on the top floor, the doors of the elevator slid apart and we headed to Donnie’s unit. I knocked and several seconds later, it opened.
Donnie balked when he saw Ryan. “I didn’t know you two were together.”
“Is that a problem?” I asked.
He glared at me for a beat. “Just follow me.”
We trailed Donnie to his bedroom to find Morgan under the covers of his bed and passed out. I knelt beside the mattress and grabbed her face.
“Morgan, it’s Court. Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
“You gave her Molly?” I asked, looking at Donnie.
“She took it herself.” He crossed his arms over his bare chest.
“That’s not my point.” I narrowed my eyes. “Did she take anything else?”
He shook his head. “No.”
I lifted Morgan’s eyelid and saw her pupil was constricted. “She’s not ODing from Molly. This looks like a fentanyl overdose. We need to get her to the hospital.”
“Just fucking save her!” Donnie snapped.
I glanced at Ryan, who stood near the door looking like he was on the verge of rage and tears, and then removed the cap of the Narcan and sprayed it into Morgan’s nose.
The instant the naloxone took effect, she gasped. Her eyes flew open, and she blinked at the ceiling in confusion, as if she couldn’t quite grasp where she was.
Ryan raced over, nudging me out of the way. I stood and watched as he grabbed his sister’s hand and cupped her cheek. “Hey, you’re okay. Let’s get you to the hospital.”
“Ryan? What … What are you doing here?” she asked and looked around until she found Donnie standing on the other side of the bed.
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s just get you some help,” Ryan answered.
I looked at Donnie. “Did you get the Molly from the same person Mia gets hers from?”
He lifted a brow. “What do you mean?”
“I’m assuming Mia didn’t know she was taking a sedative since she had to be on stage, so that leads me to believe she took Molly that was laced with something she was unaware of. Now, was it from the same dealer?” I pressed.
Before Donnie could respond, Morgan rolled over and hurled onto the rug under Ryan.
He peered up at me. “We need to call 911.”
“No!” Morgan gasped. “We can’t … We can’t … We can’t call 911.”
“Why not?” Ryan demanded. “You fucking overdosed!”
“Because … my followers,” she struggled to say. “I don’t want … anyone to know.”
“Who cares about your goddamn fans!” Ryan yelled. “You almost died!”
“Did you drive here?”
I turned my head toward Donnie at his question and answered, “Yes.”
“Ryan, take Morgan to the hospital. You come with me,” Donnie ordered.
I blinked. “Come with you?”
“I said what I said.”
My stare met Ryan’s, and I closed my eyes with a heavy sigh. I wanted so badly to arrest Donnie, but I had to play his game if I was going to take down his entire operation. Plus, I had no evidence the drugs were his, and I didn’t see any more laying around.
I dug my keys out of my pocket, slipping off the one for my Durango. “Take my car and drive her to the hospital.”
Ryan stood. “You’re really going with him? Is that even safe?”
I grabbed his hand and tugged him just outside the door. Cupping his cheek, I said, “I’ll be fine. Morgan might need more Narcan or something. Her throwing up isn’t a good sign. Get her to the hospital and I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”
He stared at me with his piercing green eyes. “I don’t like this. Why doesn’t he want to take her to the hospital? That’s weird, right?”
Yeah. Donnie didn’t just give your sister Molly that he bought off the streets. “I’ll find out. Just focus on your sister. She needs to get to the hospital ASAP.”
“All right, but be careful, okay. I don’t understand why he wants you to go with him, and I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”
I brushed my lips against his. “I will.”
When we stepped back into the room, Donnie was helping Morgan slip on a T-shirt, and I turned my head to not watch her get dressed. “I’ll go get my car, so Morgan doesn’t have to walk so far.” I hooked my thumb toward the outside and Ryan handed me the key back.
“Pull into the underground garage and wait for us by the elevator. Code is 442687,” Donnie said.
I nodded and then hurried out the door.
Once in my vehicle, I drove into the parking garage and waited a few minutes for them to come down. When I saw the elevator doors open, I got out and helped Donnie get Morgan into my vehicle. Kissing me quickly, Ryan slid into the driver’s seat and then drove away.
Without a word, Donnie walked toward his BMW 4 series. He unlocked it and we climbed in. Before I had time to put my seatbelt on, he was reversing out of the parking spot. The tires squealed as he sped out of the garage.
“You’re gonna need to keep this quiet, Court,” Donnie stated, breaking the silence between us. He didn’t take his eyes off the road, but his voice had an icy edge like he was warning me, and I knew this was it . I was finally going to get something for the investigation.
I nodded. “Of course.”
“I’m trusting you on this,” he added.
“Don’t worry. My lips are sealed,” I lied.
The hum of the engine was the only sound between us for a few more blocks. He then took a sharp corner, and we came to a stop in front of a nondescript building tucked in the back of South Boston. The warehouse was barely visible in the shadows, just another forgotten corner of the city. No lights, no signage. This place had years of grime built up against its concrete walls.
“Come on. I want you to see my new place.”
New place? We weren’t at a new building. Still, I followed him out of his bimmer.
After Donnie used a keypad to unlock the door, we entered the warehouse, and a faint odor of chemicals hit my nose. A few men I’d never seen before greeted us and I had to think they were there to secure the property. The massive space—too big to be just a storage unit— was filled with crates, old equipment, and shelves stacked with boxes. This wasn’t a back alley operation; this was a full-fledged drug operation. A place where millions of dollars in supplies and products were coming and going. A place where you didn’t want to piss off the wrong people.
We moved deeper into the warehouse, past the clutter. I caught the faint sound of humming—something electric, maybe a fan or a ventilation system running. But it wasn’t powerful enough to cover the scent of the drugs. The acrid, bitter tang of cutting agents, raw chemicals, and something else that made my stomach turn, got stronger the farther we walked into the large building.
Metal shelves lined the back wall, each one holding large plastic bins filled with different substances. It wasn’t just MDMA; there were bags of white powder, bricks wrapped in plastic, vials of clear liquid, and what looked like several kilos of narcotics stacked on the floor in one corner.
I was practically salivating, wanting to take him down at that moment, but since I’d been on a date with Ryan, I wasn’t carrying my gun on me. Plus, I didn’t just want to arrest Donnie. I wanted his entire operation. Every man who worked for him. His supplier or suppliers. The cartel if he was working with one.
He turned to me. “I’m not just a strip club owner.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m gathering that.”
Donnie took a step closer, eyeing me with a strange intensity. “You know, it’s not just about the drugs. It’s about control. Power. The things you don’t get as a bouncer at a tittie bar. This is where the real money is made, Court. I used to store my drugs at the club, but it got so big, I needed more space.”
“How long has this been going on?” I asked. All of the questions I had about what Nick saw and didn’t see were starting to have answers. I’d almost doubted my cousin but it seemed Donnie had been two steps ahead. Little did he know, it was already too late, and he was feeding me everything I’d been waiting on for nearly two months.
He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Long enough to know how to keep things running smoothly. Just look at the products we move. You ever see anything like it?” He gestured to the bins, the chemicals, the stacks of drugs.
“But what about the Molly? It’s got to be laced with something.”
He pulled down a tub filled with baggies and took one out. I immediately recognized the fire stamp on the colorful tablets.
“I don’t know. We could test it, but I don’t have the right stuff for that at the moment. Thinking of just flushing it and getting a new supply from someone else.”
“Is that easy to do?”
“It is when you know the right people.”
“So, why tell me all this?” I asked.
“Because I want you in on this. We’re practically family and running things with family is where it’s at.” Donnie grinned slyly. “It seems you know about drugs since you knew Narcan doesn’t work on Molly, and I’m not looking to take any more risks. My guys can move the product, but someone’s gotta make sure it’s clean. I can’t keep having people OD on my shit. My next shipment is going to be two times what I normally get because I’ve found new buyers.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So you’re offering me a job as your, what, personal chemist?”
“Not exactly,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’m not asking you to cook it or anything. Just test it, check it for contaminants, and make sure we’re not dealing with something that could turn into a headache later. I don’t need that kind of heat.”
“I’m more muscle than brains though.”
Donnie chuckled. “Shouldn’t be that hard to test the drugs when they come in, and I could use another guy to do the heavy lifting when the truck arrives.”