Chapter 11 #3
We pressed ourselves against the wall inside the cocktail lounge until the security guard posted to the hall took his lap around the corner.
Lee signaled me, and we slipped down the opposite corridor.
The loading bay door was exactly twenty meters away, according to the blueprints.
Our shoes made little sound on the plush carpet as we jogged toward the end, where the floor sloped downward to our destination.
We slowed, each of us sticking to the shadows of opposite walls.
Slowly, breathing restrained, I pried myself forward enough to peer around the corner.
I caught a glimpse of two more guards flanking the high-security door.
While still outfitted in formal button-ups and tailored pants, I recognized the Kevlar weave of their vests.
These guys were clearly a unit meant to be a final checkpoint to ensure no drug-addled partygoers could stumble into the unauthorized chamber waiting below.
They were not nearly as equipped as Lee informed us the transport crew would be, but I still clocked a handgun holstered at each man’s hip, which put us at two fully loaded glocks versus my bare hands.
And Lee’s… Well, considering he had minimal combat experience, I wasn’t even going to factor him in yet.
Admittedly, I didn’t love those odds.
Fuck, I wish I’d had the chance to pocket that piece from the shooting range. Even that would have been something.
It was only a matter of time before the diamond turned blue to signal that the others were on their way to the security booth. We needed to be past the loading bay door when the lights went out; there was only one shot at that trick. Sweat beaded the back of my neck.
I met Lee’s gaze, an understanding clicking between us. We needed to draw the guards away from the door. Fast.
In a nearly synchronized movement, we peeled away and returned to the first VIP lounge—the least batshit crazy one.
When we stepped further into the room, my opinion immediately faltered.
Decadence dripped from every corner. Vaulted ceilings towered at least twenty feet high, with bespoke furniture arranged through the space to create private sections.
Display cases encircled the social area, where guests crowded around what had to be some of the rarest, most dangerous items in the world.
My eyes widened when I spotted a fifty-something woman in a sapphire gown twirling in what appeared to be a werewolf pelt, much to the delight of her peers.
I counted no less than seven displays, and could only pray that nothing in the others was cursed.
Warm pendant lights blended into hidden LED accents, casting a seductive glow over everything. A live band plucked some kind of jazz medley, but when my eyes lifted from the stage, my breath caught.
There, suspended from the ceiling in a bronze cage, was an honest-to-god dragon.
“Puneta,” I said under my breath.
It was a small dragon, but a fucking real one all the same.
Emerald scales glittered like a snake’s in the layered lighting, faint wisps of steam curling from its nostrils as it sighed like an irate cat.
I’d never seen one in person. If you’d asked me a year ago, I’d have told you there was as much a chance of crossing dragons as you did a fairy.
Lately, I had been getting used to eating my words.
“You look thirsty.” A sultry voice rose above the music. I felt eyes digging into my back, and tore my gaze off the cage to face her.
I realized we’d been standing in front of a cocktail table—where a scantily clad woman was poised in an oversized cocktail glass behind the display.
Some sort of sudsy bubbles filled the glass, filtering down through the air as she waggled her legs.
It didn't do much to conceal how little she was wearing, and I felt heat rising to the very tips of my ears.
“We’re good, thank you,” I managed.
She shrugged, tugging at a lock of curly blonde hair tucked into her peacock headdress. “Well, if you change your mind…”
She lifted a handful of bubbles and blew, sending several fluttering down around my face.
This time, Lee gasped, but he was looking at the drinks. “They have Gout de Diamant.” He almost looked embarrassed to have been caught in such genuine excitement. “Most expensive champagne in the world.”
I fought off a chuckle; much as I tried to stay irritated with him, there was something genuine that filtered out sometimes.
“I’m really more of a beer or rum guy myself.”
“Clearly,” Lee said, bending down to look at the bottle stacked in the back row, away from guests’ reach. “The price is mostly absorbed from the bottle itself. Could taste like shit for all we know.” Still, he stared.
“You want to try it, don’t you?” I asked.
“I can’t deny I’ve been curious.” Lee looked physically pained to decline when the showgirl offered to signal the bartender. “Another time.”
We stepped to the side—grateful at least, we hadn’t been clocked as outsiders yet. I kept looking back at the dragon, to the displays, and back again.
“I have a plan,” I announced, facing Lee. “I dunno if it’s a great plan, but it should cause enough of a stir to get every single security operative in this section here.”
Lee folded his arms over his chest. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I offered him my most approachable smile, squeezing his shoulder. “I need you to get yourself punched in the face.”