“Shiiit,” Shane bit out.
“And?” Easy asked, muscles so tense his grip was likely to break the bottle in his hand.
“Three cars just arrived out back,” Nick said, throwing the dancer a smile like he was paying attention. She slithered toward him on hands and knees, her bare and very fake breasts swaying as she moved. Hoping to send her on her way, he tugged a dollar from his wallet.
Whipping her long black hair over her shoulder, she pushed up onto her knees and gestured for him to slide it under the side strap of her thong. Fighting back aggravation, he did it, hating the thought that any other woman would be on his skin when all he wanted to feel, smell, and touch was Becca. Especially after she said she loved him.
The dancer crawled away toward the next dollar donor.
“We should check out those cars, now. Too coincidental given today’s intel,” Shane said.
“Slow and steady, gentlemen,” Easy said, voice an even keel. They all got up. “Half the guys in this place are carrying. Let’s not give them a reason to draw. This way toward the back.”
Nick had noticed it, too. Flashes of weapons under people’s jackets. Printing through clothing. A few unconcealed carries, too. It was an OK Corral gunfight waiting to happen.
Easy led the way toward a back hallway. Unsurprisingly, a real meathead of a guy in a Confessions T-shirt blocked the way.
“This area’s private,” he said in a deep voice.
“Well, that’s a good thing,” Easy said, a scowl on his face. “Because we’re company, and we don’t want our business all out in the open.”
Nick held his breath and kept his face a blank mask. Fucking Easy and his titanium balls. Precisely what had kept them alive on that dusty road that day.
The guy frowned and looked around like he hoped no one had noticed his faux pas. “Of course. Sorry, sir. Uh, welcome.” With his tree trunk of an arm, he held open the fabric-and-beads curtain.
They stepped through and the curtains closed behind them, leaving them in a dim hall that ran the length of the club.
Shane’s gaze met Nick’s, and it was filled with all kinds of I can’t believe that just worked. Nick nodded.
When Shane turned around, he walked right into a leggy, long-haired redhead. “Whoa,” he said.
“Oh, my God, sir. I’m so sorry.” She shook her head and dropped her gaze to her spiky pink heels. “Please. I’m sorry.”
“No harm done, darlin’.” He smiled at her, turning on the southern charm.
Impatience crawled through Nick’s veins. They didn’t have time for Shane to flirt, even if this girl was the most natural-looking female he’d seen since they arrived. No five-grand implants for her. Not that he was looking. It was just that she appeared too real for this place. He cleared his throat. A wordless Come the fuck on, McCallan.
“Say,” Shane said to the woman. “We’re company and we got turned around when we went out to the bar. Any chance you know which way everyone went?”
“Uh.” Back pressed to the wall, nipples showing through her gauzy pink teddy, she glanced both ways down the hall, like she was checking no one listened. What the hell was she so scared of? Did Church knock his dancers and waitresses around? Wouldn’t that be the perfect little irony, given the ridiculous name of this place? “Well, some went to the private party room down that way, and some went downstairs with, um, the sick guy. I’m supposed to be getting him some food.”
The sick guy. Rixey’s gut rang out a three-alarm code telling him that was Charlie Merritt.
Shane grinned. “That’s where we’re headed, too. Gotta message to deliver.” He winked. “Just downstairs?”
She nodded. “On the left.”
“You were very helpful . . .” Shane smiled expectantly. Boy, this guy could pour on the charm. Woman was skittish as hell, but he played her like a marionette, moving her along from one thing to the next like he held the strings.
“Crystal,” she said. “You’re welcome, sir.”
“Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Okay.” Her smile was nervous, and the minute Shane stepped back, she bolted down the hall.
They went the opposite way toward the back door and, apparently, the basement steps.
“You see how fucking scared she was?” Shane asked.
“Yeah. Job well done, though. My gut says ‘sick guy’ is our guy,” Nick said in a low voice.
Easy heaved a breath. “Now that I know the rendezvous, I’ll bring up the car. I’ll be outside this door in five.” He glared at them. “Don’t fucking get shot. There’s only room in the car for one slacker to lie down at a time.”
“Roger that,” Nick said as Easy disappeared out the door. “Come on.” Nick and Shane went slowly down the steps. Voices echoed from below.
Static sounded in his ear. “A1, A3 just crossed the parking lot on foot?”