“Christ.” I pushed my temple like earlier, but there was no curvy badass to distract me from the pain in my head.
Or all the pains in my ass.
“Things still good with the lass then?” Nox didn’t wait for an answer. “Nah, it’s better than good, huh?”
“It would be if I was back at my bar with her and not about to step into this fresh hell.”
“Aye, and it is hell. Careful what you touch. Or who you touch.”
Fuck, this is gonna be bad.
We made our way toward the building, and Nox scanned around. “Looks like they made some changes.”
I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but everything seemed normal. Nice, even.
The bouncer at the door stopped us before we’d even reached the entrance. “No.” He pointed to Nox and his guys then Judge and Jury. “You five are banned from the premises.” He looked at me. “And since you’re with them, I’m banning you, too.”
Nox pulled a couple folded hundred-dollar bills from his pocket like he’d been expecting the obstacle.
The guy shook his head. “Go before I call the cops.” A couple more bills were added to the offering, but he wasn’t swayed. He barely even glanced down at them.
Damn.
The low murmur of conversation came from the entryway before another man stuck his head out. “Boss says pat ’em down and let ’em in.”
After everyone else took a lap back to the vehicles to strip the weapons from their bodies, we were finally ushered in. Fromwhat I’d heard of the place, I’d expected a stereotypical rundown club.
It wasn’t.
It wasn’t Wicked good, but mystery stains weren’t marking a faded carpet. There were no roaches or scurrying rats. The tables and chairs all appeared new. From what I’d been told, NashVille was a mismatched club that’d been Frankensteined together—part western theme, part cigar lounge, all corny and cheap. Scanning around without looking at the stage, all I saw was subdued cowboy accents in the shockingly clean place.
“Looks like they made alotof changes.” Nox’s brows lowered as he looked around. When a glossy-eyed woman spotted us and perked up, he added, “But some things stay the same.”
The bouncer from outside escorted us back to an office.
Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t Nash standing behind the desk. I’d never seen the man before, but Nox must’ve at least recognized him.
“I’ve seen ya before,” he rumbled, the same furrowed expression on his face as he looked around.
“Carl. I was a bartender last time you came in,” the man said.
“Moving up in the world, aye?”
“Something like that.” For a man who’d gotten a helluva promotion, he looked far from happy as he sat. “What can I do for you?”
Judge pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked the screen to show a close-up screenshot of the prick with the busted arm. “You know him?”
“Knew him. I’ll see if I can find his name and contact info in the records, but he’s no longer employed here.” He leaned closer, squinting at the picture. Even with it cropped, it was easy to see he was being restrained. “If he did something, it’s unrelated to us.”
“Speaking of,” Nox said, “where is the rest of theus?”
“Mr. Nash is out of the building.”
That was an understatement since no one had gotten eyes on him in a year.
“Where?” Nox pushed.
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
