The bartender cringed before pouring a shot into the cup. “Two weeks?” he shook his head. “That was about the time we had our last raid, I think.”
“Was he here that night?”
The bartender shrugged, continuing to add things to the cup.
“You sure it was two weeks ago? I heard the last raid was about a month ago.”
“It was both. The Guard comes here more than some of our regulars do,” the bartender said, sarcasm lacing his tone.
“Yet you’re all still here,” Dash said.
“Why shouldn’t we be here?”the bartender asked, cocking a brow.“Fuck the Guard.”
“I just meant… they come but they don’t shut you down?”
“They like the payoff money too much to do that,” the bartender muttered while adding another ingredient to the cup.
Dash shook his head. It was part of the reason he’d been so willing to leave when they’d offered early retirement. Lower levels of the Guard were corrupt from the inside out—and he’d not been sure how high it went. Taking payoffs every few weeks from an illegal club they refused to close? It was indefensible. “I’m sorry that’s happening.”
The bartender shrugged.
“I used to investigate that kind of corruption within the force when I was with the Guard—and I did my best to stop it. I still know some good people there. I can send word for them to check into the locals here.”
“We’re not legal—because we can’t be,” the alpha said. “They’d shut us down for good if you did that, so don’t.”
Dash sighed. That might not be incorrect. He hated the idea of the club being exploited every few weeks into infinity—andhated that the local crooked Guardsmen benefitted from that ongoing abuse. It went against everything that made him him, but they worked in a gray area. Bringing light there would only cause more problems than he’d solve.
The bartender shook the drink, the ice dancing inside the cup. He eyed Dash while doing it, as if sizing him up. After he poured it and slid it to the patron, he moved in a little closer. “He’s been coming in a lot the last few months. Almost every weekend.”
“Have you seen him tonight?” Dash got a shake of the head. “Was he here last weekend?”
The bartender shrugged. “I’m not sure. We serve so many that some weekends are a blur. Last weekend was chaos.”
“That busy? Right after a raid?”
The bartender chuckled. “I sometimes wonder if half of these assholes enjoy the adrenaline rush they get from running away more than actually being here. A night at the Lucky Dragon can sometimes be a full contact sporting event.”
“Gotcha,” Dash said. “Anyone else here who might’ve seen him around?”
The bartender chuckled. “Take your pick. Everyone here knows Jaye. He’s always up for a good time. And he tipsexceptionallywell,” the bartender said, pouring mixer into another stainless cup. His smile faded a bit. “I hope you find him. He’s a good guy.”
His father doesn’t seem to have the same opinion.“I hope I find him, too.”
Dash moved down the bar to speak to the other bartenders and asked the same questions but didn’t get much more insight. After conversations with a few of the servers, it sounded like Jayemight’vebeen there the night of the last raid but there wasnothing definitive. If he’d been there, maybe he’d been picked up by the Guard—but that didn’t explain a two-week absence. If he’d been arrested, there would’ve been a record, too—a record the previous investigator should’ve easily found. He’d check, though. Dash had never heard of the other detective, so he didn’t know the quality of his work.
Wandering through the crowd, Dash searched for other servers he might question. He sipped his beer, trying to blend in. He’d already noticed a few watching him closely and feared he might end up back out in the alley at any second. After walking near the stairs that led down to the dancefloor, he swept his gaze down over the booths on either side, looking for an entrance into the kitchen. If he stood outside it, perhaps he could snag a stray server for some questions.
From his vantage point, someone in the crowd pulled his notice. The guy had his back to him, but Emerson Walker was a good head taller than most of the other alphas. It made him too easy to spot. He scowled, wishing the alphawasn’tso easy to find.
Dash watched Emerson dancing with that same languid grace he’d noticed the first time they’d met. How someone so big could move so smooth, he didn’t know. Dash had two left feet and stepped on toes—and he was nowhere near as tall and broad as Emerson. As he lifted the bottle to his lips, he watched a hand snake around Emerson’s waist and slide up to rest on the middle of his back.
His hand froze before the beer made it to his mouth.
Emerson turned enough that Dash saw he was dancing with another alpha. Another alpha who was draping himself all over Emerson and smiling up seductively.
Of coursehe wasn’t dancing alone. Why would he be? Dash should’ve realized that fact but for some reason it hadn’t clicked until he’d seen the other alpha clinging so close. Somethingtwisted inside Dash. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the pair, a growl of disapproval rising up his throat. Before even realizing he was in motion, he found himself storming towards the dance floor.
As he neared, Emerson spun the other alpha away and dragged Dash into his arms, swaying to the slow song and forcing him not to follow the other man.
