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?”
Nick pressed his com button. “Yes,” he whispered.
“Roger,” Jeremy said. Damn if his bro wasn’t hitting this out of the ballpark. Pride over how Jer had stepped up formed a warm ball in his chest.
They reached the stairs at the bottom, and Rixey shoved every other thought away. One door on the left, two on the right toward the far end of the long hall. Crystal said the sick guy was in the room on the left. Nick hand signaled to Shane to prepare to enter. They donned masks.
The door flew open in front of them. “Who are—” The overgolded black man predictably went for his gun.
Rixey didn’t let him get that far. He punched him in the throat, which ensured the man grabbed there instead of his gun, didn’t scream, and was momentarily incapacitated. Guns drawn, they rushed him into the room and pushed the door shut. A quick visual sweep found no cameras.
Rixey swiped Doorman’s feet out from under him with a kick. He fell flat on his back, breath exploding out of him.
“Freeze,” Shane ordered two teenagers who’d been hunting and pecking away at their cell phones on a cushy couch. “Toss ’em down. Nice and slow. Now, hands up. Don’t be stupid.” They sprawled onto their stomachs.
When Doorman’s gaze cleared, it landed on Nick’s gun pointed right at his head, and he froze.
“A1, be advised that A3 is in wheels coming around to the back of the building.” The volume of the games playing on multiple TVs made Nick press the piece to his ear.
Ah, great goddamned news. “Roger. We got a ride.”
“Go,” Shane said, nodding at the door just past the boys.
Nick crossed the rec room and, gun drawn, pushed open the door. He cleared the room in a sweep. A blond-haired man lay on a bed with messed-up blankets. Jesus, he was pretty damn close to the spitting image of Frank Merritt. Just much younger.
They’d found Charlie.
“I got him,” he said over his shoulder, elation filling his chest for Becca. Damn, it was going to feel good to bring her brother home for her. “Eileen, do you copy? We have him.”
Crouching beside the bed, Nick scanned for injuries and found plenty. Cuts, bruises, badly chapped lips, sunken-in eyes, a ball of bandage around his right hand. Nothing obviously critical, which meant they could deal with it back at Hard Ink.
Charlie moaned, his eyelids fluttering.
“Becca sent me, Charlie. Can you hear me? You’re with friends.”
For a moment, Charlie’s eyes seemed to focus. And then it was gone again. Rixey was going to have to hump him out of there. He dragged him to the side of the bed, pulled his arms over his left shoulder, and hiked him up from a dead squat. Nick’s back screamed. Shit. Tall and lanky as Charlie was, he wasn’t light. Things were gonna get dicey if they hit any resistance on the way out.
Charlie over his shoulder, Nick came out of the bedroom to find that Shane had been busy. Doorman and the teenagers lay bound and gagged.
“Let’s go,” Nick said.
Shane palmed the doorknob and counted to three on his fingers. He pulled it open, cleared the hall with a nod, and started up the steps.
They were halfway up when a shadow fell across the opening at the top.
Sonofabitch.
The easy way was always mined. Of course, in this case, the easy way was the only way. No fucking chance Nick was getting this close to bringing Charlie home only to have it all go to shit fifteen feet from the exit.
A willowy figure carrying a tray appeared at the top and took one step down. Crystal. Her eyes went wide. “They’re coming. There was a call.” She retreated as they kept going up the stairs. “I have to scream now, and you have to hit me.”
“What?” Shane asked, echoing Rixey’s own thoughts.
“If you don’t, they’ll know I helped you. And I can’t . . .” Agitation overtook all her delicate features. “You have to. Please.” Apology in her eyes, she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Please.”
“Pretend to fall and cradle your stomach.” Shane swung like he was punching her.
She dove, her head and back hitting the wall and the tray of food flying.
They bolted through the door.
Aw, thank fuck for Easy. He had his rental SUV sitting right there, back door open. Shane dove in first. Nick flipped Charlie off his shoulder, and Shane hauled him in. Rixey’s ass was still flapping in the breeze when Easy peeled out and men exploded through the door they’d just come through.
Gunshots erupted in a barrage that sprayed the back of the SUV.
Shane and Nick went flat, covering Charlie, who was completely out now. Probably for the best.
More gunfire again. The back window shattered in a hail of glass.
“Do whatever you have to do to avoid a tail, man,” Nick called.
“On it.”
Shane groaned. “Motherfuck.”
“What?” Nick asked as Easy tore out of the lot, cutting off traffic and sending oncoming cars into tailspins that luckily blocked the road.