“Let’s just gi’ it a try. But Cara, if ye leave our sight line, we’ll be comin’ right after ya,” Arran told me.
“Please do,” I agreed easily. “But unless you need to do that, you have to try and blend in. Take a seat, order drinks, and don’t just glare at me the whole time.” I aimed the last point at Dante.
“What are you planning to do?” he asked.
“One of the bartenders and one of the dancers – they live in my old neighbourhood. I’m hoping they might be able to give me information on dealers who work around there, specifically anyone involved or linked to the Armenians,” I shrugged. It wasn’t like I knew what I was doing really. I wasn’t a cop, and despite my family legacy, I had no real understanding of the criminal world beyond the parts I had seen around me through my life. I was playing this all by ear, and praying I got some answers somewhere along the way.
“Fine, but dinna push too hard. People get nervous when ye start askin’ too many questions. If anythin’ feels off, ye walk away and get the hell out of there, aye?”
“Credit us with some intelligence, brother,” Cal retorted with a roll of his eyes. “Cara and I can handle our end. You just make sure no one’s watching Cara too closely. If those bastardsplanned to grab her here before, they could be keeping an eye on the place, couldn’t they?”
“Wow! Okay. On that calming note, let’s go,” I announced. I didn’t want to hear or think another thing about anyone laid in wait for me. This whole thing was pushing past what I felt able to handle already. Looking over my shoulder in raw terror wasn’t going to help me get through it.
Before anyone could utter another word I grabbed Cal’s hand and all but dragged him towards the club. He jogged a step until he was right at my side, then released my hand, and wrapped his long arm across my shoulders.
“You’re shaking,” he said quietly.
“I’m nervous, but I’ve got this,” I replied, choosing not to look up at him. If I did I worried I’d break down and back out of the whole plan fast. I needed to be the harder version of myself now.
I didn’t recognise the bouncer at the front of the club as we walked through the doors. Thankfully, he allowed us both in without any issue. It wasn’t that unusual for women to come into the club. I’d served plenty over the years. Sometimes they came in with their boyfriends, or husbands, maybe looking to spice things up, or so I’d always assumed. Sometimes we even got groups of women come in. They were usually pretty raucous and ended up being asked to calm down or leave.
As I walked in, the lights and loud music gave me a sense of familiarity that helped to soothe my frayed nerves. The club was pretty busy, and I saw several regulars sat around the large centre stage. Joanie, one of the dancers I had formed something of a friendship with when I worked there, was up on the pole, dancing in the hypnotic way all of the dancers were able to.
I tried not to hesitate as I walked right over to the bar, Cal right at my side, his arm still firmly around my shoulders and keeping me close.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Lisa, one of the bartenders I had never gotten along with, sneered as she approached us. “I hope you didn’t come to get your job back, because Frank is pissed with you. You have zero chance.”
“Is Luke working?” I asked flatly, completely ignoring everything she’d said to me, and barely even sparing her a glance. She loved attention and creating drama. I had learned almost as soon as she began working there, around eighteen months earlier, that indifference was my best tactic with her.
“Luke?” She wrinkled her nose as she looked at me like something she stepped in. “What do you want with him?”
“None of your fucking business. Is he in or not?” I all but growled.
“Not, but he wouldn’t have anything to say to you, even if he were.”
“Jesus Lisa, sheath your fucking claws and untwist your panties. I wouldn’t touch Luke with a bloody barge pole. I just wanted to ask him a question.”
Lisa had wanted Luke, the one and only male bartender at the club, since the day she started working there, despite the fact Luke had made it very obvious he wasn’t interested. Personally, I thought they were both complete arseholes who deserved each other.
“What question?”
“Fuck me!” I ground out in frustration. “Where’s Kyla?” I asked, after taking a deep breath to cool off. “And don’t bother telling me she’s not here. I saw her car out front.”
“How should I know? Look for yourself,specs,” Lisa threw back with a sneer. I tried not to flinch at the name she used, but it still hit as hard as ever.
“Specs?” Cal questioned as I pulled him away from the bar enough that Lisa couldn’t over hear us. “You don’t wear glasses, do you?”
“It’s just a stupid nickname a couple of the girls around here use for me,” I shrugged as I scanned the club again for Kyla. I glanced over to Dante and Arran, seated at a table close to the stage, where they had an unobstructed view of the whole place, and from where they seemed to be keeping a subtle eye on me and Cal. I only glanced past them, not wanting to draw attention to the fact they were with me, but I felt reassured to know they were close.
“But why specs? Do you need glasses, because I could arrange…”
“No! Cal…no. I don’t need glasses. They called me specs, but that’s just the shortened version of what they came up with originally. I…I’m not great with numbers and I messed up the cash payments multiple times, the one time I worked behind the bar. Lisa and a few others found out, and started joking that I was ‘special ed,’ you know like in school, years ago? It just got shortened after that. It stuck because…well, I’m not the smartest.”
“What the hell?” Cal lifted his head and looked to the bar again, presumably for Lisa, and he looked pissed off.
“Don’t let it bother you. I don’t,” I lied.
I stepped out of his hold and grabbed his hand in mine instead. I looked around again and finally saw Kyla walking from the private booths in the back. She was dressed in a white corset with matching barely there panties and white thigh highs. Her blonde hair hung in perfect waves and she looked flawless as always.
