“Clothes would be good,” Eli said lightly.
Sternly lecturing himself to get himself together, Daniel shut his dressing room door with probably more force than he needed. He picked up his Bulova two-tone leather wristwatch—a present from all his family when he graduated—and strapped it on. His Kiton black leather monk-strap shoes had been a present to himself.
Barely sparing himself a glance in the mirror, he left the bedroom and collected his wallet and keys and tucked his Sig P328 Nitron in his ankle holster. Eli was regarding him steadily when he straightened up. “Are you carrying?”
Eli shook his head.
Which was okay. Daniel eyeballed him again. There wasn’t really anywhere he could hide a weapon anyway. Daniel forced that thought out of his mind and opened the door so Eli could walk past him and to the elevator. Daniel walked to where he’d parked the car and heard Eli’s steps falter as he paused. Smiling to himself, he looked over his shoulder. “It’s mine. They delivered it this afternoon.” Daniel pressed the button to unlock the BMW and opened the driver’s door. He slid in and inhaled the leather.
Eli got in quietly.
“I can’t decide if I need a truck to compete with Talon,” Daniel teased.
Eli scoffed. “You’d need an armored car to compete with Talon.”
Daniel was silent and concentrated on getting to know the car. He’d driven a model like it before, so it wasn’t an issue, but it gave him a good excuse to try and control his…what? Jealousy? Over Talon? He wasn’t jealous over Talon. Talon was doing a good job, and he was decent to Vance.
But he didn’t like it when Eli said he couldn’t measure up. Daniel grunted half to himself.
“Showtime,” Daniel murmured as he drove straight up to the valet parking drop-off sometime later. A liveried “flight attendant” stepped up smartly to open Eli’s door, and another Daniel’s. Daniel dropped his keys and a $10 bill into the man’s outstretched hand, and pocketed the ticket he was given.
Then he walked around to where Eli was standing and deliberately rested his palm on the small of Eli’s back. He felt the slight shiver through the shirt fabric but didn’t remove his hand, and guided Eli inside, stepping confidently through the metal detector…which of course lit up. Daniel calmly showed his ID and was invited to go on through.
They didn’t have a chance of undercover work any longer, but as they wanted Eli visible, Daniel had very deliberately brought a gun to announce his presence. He gave his name as an invited guest and showed his official ID, and another flight attendant guided them up the circular staircase.
He managed to control the double take at the man checking names as they got to the door, and saw the recognition on Eli’s face.
Richard—Talon’s brother—gave them both a polite smile but never indicated he knew them in any other way, and stepped back to allow them through.
He’d been in most of the clubs in DC. The upper floor seemed to be a mix of Flash on Florida Avenue and Heist in Dupont Circle. An eclectic mix of studded leather, mahogany, and even individual chairs and tables made to look like first-class cabins. The bartenders were wearing similar uniforms to the valets, but there were a lot less of them, uniforms that is. Servers made up to look like old-fashioned cabin attendants walked in between guests.
Eli pointed to where the team were sitting, and they headed over there. Daniel knew both Finn and Eli were authorized to drink. Jake was drinking a Bud Light, and Finn had something with umbrellas and cherries in it. Daniel ordered a light beer and raised an eyebrow to Eli. Eli shook his head. “Bottle of water please, sealed,” Daniel ordered the server.
“Any trouble getting in?” Jake leaned forward to be heard. The music wasn’t as loud up here as it was downstairs, but it was either that or he would have to shout.
Daniel looked at Talon. “I’m assuming you didn’t know.”
Talon shook his head, frustration mixed with anger. “He barely speaks to us, but to be fair, I don’t discuss cases with him either.”
Daniel knew there was something else going on with Talon’s brother, but he had his hands full of other things tonight. Talon’s brother wasn’t his problem.
“Jake,” Finn said in a warning tone, and Daniel raised his head to see what was wrong. There were two bars running the length of each side of the room, and a small dance floor at the top. Three dancers—boys—all performed in various places. Two were suspended in cages about eight feet off the ground, and a third was behind glass on the stage.
But Finn wasn’t looking at them—his gaze was fixed on the man in the suit standing off to the right of the stage. About six feet, thirties if he had to guess, Caucasian, and partially hidden, but not so much that they couldn’t see the left side of his face and the distinctive scar. As they watched, he pressed the earpiece he was wearing and replied to whoever had just spoken to him.
“He must be the enhanced Lin told us about,” Jake remarked.
Finn’s eyes narrowed. “Do we know him?”
Daniel shook his head. He’d never seen him before. He glanced at Eli to ask if he did, and Eli was staring at him very intently. “Do you know him?”
“I think so.” Eli spoke hesitantly. Daniel didn’t ask for a name because it was clear Eli was trying to place him. The server arrived with their drinks. Eli didn’t touch his, and Daniel didn’t press him. The boy finished on the stage, and the enhanced stepped forward and extended his hand to help the dancer step out. There were a ton of whistles and catcalls, money thrown on the stage. The dancer smiled prettily and scooped it up as the enhanced guided him away.
The DJ started some club music, and Daniel tried not to sigh. He felt old. Why couldn’t they ever put on something decent.
“Shall we dance?” Finn asked Talon when they’d finished their drinks, and Talon grinned. “Absolutely.” He stood up and put out a hand which Finn took, and they both stepped up to join the other bodies on the dance floor.
“I feel old,” Daniel said out loud and was surprised to see the humor flash across Eli’s face. Eli picked his water up, but Daniel stopped him opening it. “Don’t open it until we come back.”
Eli blinked. “Where are we going?”
Daniel smiled, stood and removed his blazer, then held his hand out to Eli. Eli looked in horror. “I don’t dance,” he squeaked out.
“That’s okay,” Daniel said. “I do.” And he took Eli’s hand and pulled him up. He thought for a moment Eli would refuse, but then he stood, and Daniel pulled him in closer to him. Eli shot him a strange look but made no sound of protest, so Daniel led him to the dance floor. Eli still looked mildly panicked, but Daniel hadn’t been joking when he said he could dance. He wasn’t some ballroom star, but he’d been a groomsman for a colleague last year, and they’d all been backup for their first dance. He’d gone through every step with Jason, who had two left feet, and in the end Daniel, Max, and Stephen, the other groomsmen, had paid for dance lessons.
And Xavier the Italian dance instructor—he’d confided to Daniel later in bed that his real name was Alan and he originally came from Duluth—was damn good at what he did. He wasn’t bad in bed either, and they’d had an amazing weekend before Xavier caught the plane back to Los Angeles.