Chapter 8 #2
He tightened his hold and brushed his lips on the top of her hair.
A ripple in the air behind him had him turning to look back just as another couple stepped out of the illusionary barrier.
The man was in his early forties, with a brawler’s build and thick dark hair marked by silver.
He was draped in tailored linen. His companion, a honey blonde by choice, had to be half his age, wearing a slash of eye-catching crimson meant to be a dress with impressively high heels.
Unexpected recognition hit, and he stiffened.
“Well, shit,” he muttered, watching the couple’s approach.
“What?” Isa half turned to see who had his attention. “Who is that?”
“That is the very married—and not to the young woman at his side—Beto Montenegro.” The line moved forward, which gave Locke an unneeded excuse to turn back around and ignore the advancing couple. “He also happens to be one of the bigger money men behind a lot of the Valley’s developments.”
Isa followed his lead and turned away. “How do you know him?”
“I don’t.”
He tightened his hold on Isa as Beto and his companion bypassed the line and walked right up to the bouncer without even pausing. The couple spoke to the hostess with an easy familiarity.
“I just investigated him for Emilio,” Locke murmured, “and what I found meant Emilio chose not to move forward with the deal Montenegro offered. Unfortunately, losing Cordova support meant other investors who were on the fence decided to jump ship as well, and that made him very unhappy.”
“So he’s sketchy,” she said.
He met her gaze and gave her a small smile. “Very, which is why Emilio has me keeping tabs.”
“Then he should fit in just fine with this crowd.”
As Montenegro ushered his companion inside, Locke felt the slow slide of Isa’s hand moving from his chest to just below his ribs, where it stopped. He cleared his throat. “Makes me wonder what connections he’s working to earn VIP access to an underground social club.”
Through the material of his shirt, he felt Isa’s nails press into his side, gaining his attention, as she pulled back against his hold. “Do me a favor tonight, Locke. Just stick to our hunt.”
“That’s my goal.” And it was. If he managed to sniff out new scents on old trails, well, then, he could track those later.
Those compelling eyes searched his for a long moment, and he got the sense she was weighing his intent.
When the line started moving again, she turned forward and, with a soft sigh, walked the few feet necessary.
She didn’t say anything more, not even when a group of chattering twentysomethings joined the line.
Their excited conversation babbled behind him as they drew closer to the entry.
Then it was Locke and Isa’s turn.
“Good evening,” the hostess said with a professional smile that warmed as it drifted over Isa and landed on him.
He pulled the wooden disc from his pocket, held it up between two fingers, and offered it to her. “Evening.”
Light winked off the small crystals embedded in the hostess’s pointed, polished nails as she took the disc. A flash of blue-tinged orange magic swept over the disc and winked to gold. With a graceful twist of her wrist, the disc disappeared.
She inclined her head and motioned them forward. “Enjoy.”
Locke took Isa’s hand as they cleared the few steps to the entrance, but they were forced to stop when Carter didn’t move aside. Stepping in front of Isa, Locke moved into the bouncer’s space. “Problem?”
Carter’s attention went from Isa to Locke, something working behind the stony expression as he held Locke’s gaze.
Then, surprisingly, without a word, the man reached back, opened the door, and stepped to the side.
Lights flashed from deep inside, but strangely, no sound emerged, indicating there was more than one spell at work.
Without releasing his hold on Isa’s hand, Locke ushered her forward, keeping his body between her and Carter.
As they passed, a faint scent teased his nose, but he didn’t have time to chase it down.
Not with Carter watching them. They stepped across the threshold and into a deafening wall of music.
The heavy bass line was an underlying heartbeat that seemed to sync with the flashing lights as he followed Isa deeper inside.
The place was busy for a Sunday night, but then again, he wasn’t sure the patrons were the typical nine-to-fivers, so perhaps the whole day-of-rest thing didn’t apply.
Isa led him up a short set of stairs that opened to a wide walkway ringing the mass of undulating bodies on the floor below.
As she wove her way through the club-goers, he took in the scene.
There were three levels—the main floor below, the walkway they were on, and the top level above.
In between the spastic lights, he made out various alcoves on the top floor, with group seating and tables for patrons to lounge at as they watched the happenings below—most likely the VIP tables.
Unsurprisingly, he spotted a couple of faces he recognized by reputation.
Isa made a beeline to one of the two bars dominating the second level.
Most of the seats were filled, but as Locke and Isa approached, one opened up.
Isa took advantage, sliding in before anyone else could claim it, leaving Locke to wedge himself into the space next to her.
Isa turned so her bare back was to Locke and crossed her legs as she waited to catch the bartenders’ attention.
There were two, both female, both busy as they moved in a coordinated dance along the back line of the bar.
It only took a minute or two before the younger one flashed them a smile and a nod, indicating she’d be over in a minute, as she popped tops off a pair of long-neck bottles and set them in front of a customer.
The older bartender was busy with a customer a little farther down.
As he and Isa waited their turn, Locke scanned the crowd, noting it was an interesting mix that ranged from discerning sophisticates to edgy unconventional people and everything in between.
The music from below was loud, but considering he could still hear the buzz of nearby conversations, it was clear that whoever was running this scene didn’t skimp on things like soundproofing spells—a financial layout indicating this supposed fly-by-night setup was well funded, and he couldn’t help but wonder whose pockets those funds were buried in.
He noticed a handful of bouncer types positioned through the club and was on his return sweep when he saw the older bartender register Isa’s presence and do a double take.
As the younger one started to head their way, the older one directed her toward another customer and took her place.
She stopped in front of them and wiped a towel over the bar’s top before setting her palms flat so she could lean in.
“Isa, I thought you were shot of this scene.” Her tone was casual but concerned.
The woman’s mature features had Locke putting her age closer to forty than thirty despite the trim, fit curves displayed by the triangular leather top that left her arms and back bare above her formfitting leather pants.
“Hey, Nova.” Isa shifted forward so the two could talk. “Wasn’t planning on making a return appearance, but my guy here”—she reached out and put her hand on Locke’s chest—“got an invite and thought to surprise me.”
Nova’s eyebrows rose. “Hell of a surprise.”
“You’re telling me.” Isa’s response carried a guarded edge.
Nova’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you have enough business at your place to keep you out of mine?” she asked with a hint of cautious teasing.
“It keeps me out of trouble,” Isa said.
“Sorry to hear that.”
Isa gave a surprised laugh. “Me too.”
Nova’s grin was a little less strained as she straightened. “Well, what can I get you?”
Isa looked at the back of the bar, where bottles were lined on lighted shelves. “How about we start with two Eagle Rare tens, one neat, one on the rocks?”
Nova shook her head. “I see some things don’t change.”