“Stop it,” Cherri said. “We’re never going to make it all the way through this night if you keep looking at me like that.”
“Fine by me,” I joked, glancing sideways at her, but she just shook her head. I loved the slight blush that rose to her face.
Eventually, Cherri’s car phone rang, and she answered, “Hey.”
“Hey,” Nathan said. “We’re not standing in this line. We’re gonna go park in the L.C.E. parking lot and walk over.”
“Okay,” Cherri said.
We followed Kyle’s truck around the block and into the parking garage that was attached to Loche Corporation Enterprises. We all climbed out of the cars and walked across the street and back down the block to where the line was beginning. Nathan strode right past the line, and I shook my head at how entitled he looked, not even making eye contact with the pissed-off people glaring at him from the line. If the situation were any different, I would have demanded we wait in line like everyone else, but we didn’t have time for that.
When we got to the front of the line, the thick-armed, broad-shouldered security guard looked us up and down. His lip curled up as he hissed, “This isn’t a fucking daycare. Run along, tykes.”
Nathan reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a few things. One of them was a white card that I couldn’t read, one of them was the fake ID that Sicily had made, and the last was a flush of hundreds. He handed all three things over to the security guard and waited.
The security guard flipped through the handful of hundreds and then looked at the card and ID. He looked up at Nathan, scanned him over, scanned the rest of us, and then looked back down at the card. Finally, he pressed the button on the walkie talkie on his chest pocket and said, “Got eleven coming in. Let ‘em by.” He grabbed the velvet rope that was separating the outside of the club from the inside, and waved us by. “Come on, before I lose my fucking job.”
We didn’t hesitate at all. We all slid inside, past the line of swearing club-goers waiting to get in, and past the second security guard inside. Flashing our IDs, we finally left the waiting line behind and entered the club. Music was pumping and directly opposite the door was a massive dance floor, sunken lower than the main level we entered on, and to the left and right were staircases that led up to a second floor with bars on it, overlooking the dance floor. Lights were flashing and fog machines were raining down on the dancers, spurring them on.
“I wanna go!” Colette yelped. “It looks like so much fun.”
“We have work to do first,” Nathan said. “Partying afterwards.”
I looked up to the balcony that was overlooking the dance floor and could see a line of purple, velvet curtains hanging down, separating what looked like V.I.P. booths. “Up there.”
All of The Royal Court’s gazes shifted up to the balcony, and then Kyle turned and led the way up the staircase to the left. There was a glowing bar situated along the wall at the top of the second floor, and once we were up there, we could see that the area with the velvet curtains was roped off and guarded. With Cherri’s hand clasped in mine, I stepped through to the front of the group and led us over to the roped area. A guard noticed us immediately and crossed his arms, preparing to face us when we reached him.
“You got a reservation?” he growled.
“We’re here to see T.C.,” I said. “Tell him that Nico sent us.”
The guard eyed me for a minute, but then turned around and walked all the way down to the booth at the far end of the line, and slid the curtain aside. He poked his head in and stood that way for a few minutes, then he turned around and came back down. He unlatched the velvet rope and motioned us through.
“All the way down,” he said. “Last one.”
I led the way down the row of private booths and stopped at the last one. Another security guard took over and slid the curtain aside from the inside when he got there. We walked past the security guard and into a deceptively large room. It had a set of seats encircling the walls, and a couple of tables were in the middle, topped with food and booze.
One man was sitting in the center of the couches, opposite the curtain, arms crossed and glaring at us. He had tanned skin, a clean goatee, and wore a suit. “Well now,” he said as we walked in. “Nico thinks I do work with babies now. Seems you all came in search of information.”
“You helped Connor Loche recently,” Nathan took over, stepping up to stand at my side. “You helped him secure a warehouse in North Postings.”
T.C. looked around at some of his guys, seemingly a little flabbergasted at the gall eleven barely-adults had entered his space with. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. I don’t typically give information away for free.”
“What would you charge Garrett?” I said. “I would assume I’d get the son discount.”
T.C. leaned forward a little. “What’s your name?”
“Deon,” I said. “Keane.”
“Well hell!” T.C. said, his entire demeanor shifting. “You didn’t say you were Venom’s kid, get in here!” He motioned to the couches. “Sit. Do you want drinks? Food?”
“We’re good, thanks. We just need to know about Connor.”
T.C. looked around at his men, then nodded towards the door. They all filed out. The only one who remained on the side of the booth we were on was the security guard who let us in. T.C. was working on a beer and lifted it to take a sip. “Yeah. I’ve been helping him out. It’s been a bitch working with him too. He comes in here every other week asking for a new warehouse space to hole up in. When the show is over and he’s ready to pack up, he pays my men to clean house. Even tear down walls.”
“Yeah, we saw one of those places,” Cherri said.
“You’ve seen him recently?” Nathan said.
“Yeah. Last place he asked me for, he came in about a week ago for it.”
“So he should still be there,” I said.
“Yeah. I’ll give you the address, so you can go out there and take care of things yourself. Leave me out of it,” T.C. said. “Just make sure you tell Venom I helped you out.”
“I’ll let him know right away,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Wow,” Colette whispered from next to me. “Deon just went and found a different dad with pull.”
Still, Nathan pulled out his wallet and took out a wad of cash. “Consider it a tip and to make sure this information doesn’t get back to Connor.”
He threw it to T.C., who caught it and nodded at Nathan and tossed a piece of paper back at him. I assumed that was the address. “Your secret is safe with me.” Then he looked us over. “Well, did you need anything else?”
“Not unless there’s more you think we need to know,” I said.
“One last thing,” T.C. said. “Part of the deal with Connor was always security. He has the place bugged to high hell. If you’re planning on showing up at the doorstep, he’ll know you’re coming before you even get through the door, and you’ll be dead before you get past the doormat.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Nathan said. “We’ve got it covered.”