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EIGHTEEN
Decima
As the elevatorcareened up through what had looked like a bland office building from the outside, I was overly aware of the weight across my shoulders, belt, and abdomen. Two incredibly precise guns were strapped to my body, one now visible at my hip and the other hidden in my boot. My hoodie and jeans concealed various blades and a set of compact rappelling gear. Each of the guys in formation around me was carrying at least as much if not more.
I threw my hood back, revealing my face in the way Julius had planned. The guys did the same, pulling back the fabric that had been used to conceal our identities as we made our way here—as we waited for what we’d spent two days meticulously planning.
Anticipation hummed through the air. Nothing about the space around me told me this was anything other than an office building, but I had to assume that the men knew what they were doing. It wasn’t the kind of mistake they were likely to make.
And where better to hide a top-secret criminal nightclub than in a spot so innocuous-looking?
“We’re clear on the plan?” Julius asked, really a formality at this point.
We all nodded. My fingers tingled with excitement, ready to try out those immaculately sighted pistols. I held my hands still, keeping my calm with careful focus. I wasn’t about to forget all my training and experience over a trip to Pittsburgh.
The elevator reached the third floor from the top and dinged. The crew had said that the Funhouse encompassed all three of the uppermost floors in the building. I straightened my back and threw back my shoulders, standing behind Julius and Garrison who did the same. I imagined that Blaze and Talon—sandwiching me between them—prepared themselves, too.
The elevator door swung open, and it took every effort for me not to drop my jaw at what lay ahead in the wide-open room before us. The men had described it to me, but somehow I still hadn’t been prepared.
Julius strode out onto the entrance platform outside and paused there as we gathered around him. It was both a power move, showing he wasn’t in any hurry, and an opportunity for me to adjust to my surroundings. I couldn’t be more grateful for the kindness, because this place was unlike any nightclub I’d ever seen. Despite what the guys told me, I couldn’t have ever imagined… this.
I understood where the place got its name now.
The Funhouse had windowless outer walls, but every surface between here and the roof—walls, floors, and ceilings—was made of glass. Some of it was transparent and the rest of it mirrors that bounced the artificial light back and forth and reflected it at unnerving angles. Even the elevator shaft this far up was glass. I suspected that from any point within the club, you could see every other corner of the place. You’d also see at least a few different views of yourself in those eerie mirrors.
In other words, there was no hiding up here.
Only sparse furniture scattered the glass rooms, but the pieces looked opulent—all silks and velvets, fine leather and mahogany. It was mostly placed around the far ends of the private booths so as not to interrupt the flow of light. I could see right into all those booths, of course, and about half of them were occupied right now. Some of the inhabitants had posh suits and carefully trimmed hair, others more urban clothes like us, but they all gave off a potent vibe of menace and power.
I had no doubt that these were among the upper echelon of criminals. And now an awful lot of them were watching our arrival with gazes I couldn’t read.
“Our usual booth is free,” Blaze remarked. As one, the crew began marching toward the place that they claimed with only their glances.
As I walked with them, my gaze flitted through the space like the light bouncing off the mirrors, taking in even more details. A handful of aerial artists dangled from knotted silks hung in various hollow columns of glass, twisting, posing, and swaying in a weird sort of dance to match the bass-heavy music that pulsed through the club. They all wore skimpy clothing that bared most of their bodies. Not just women, though—I spotted a couple of men wearing only thongs as well.
I traced the ropes up toward the ceiling high above us on the uppermost floor, and my jaw went slack a second time. There on the top floor, in an enclosure made of—what else?—solid glass, a fully grown tiger was prowling from side to side. Not just a nightclub but a zoo too, apparently.
We strode toward the mirrored staircase, and as I turned my head, I noticed the elevator descending, leaving a completely translucent glass case where it had been.
“It goes back to the bottom for appearances,” Garrison explained with a smirk. “Can’t have anything blocking the view.”
My lips twitched with amusement, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to show anything other than a solemn front with all these hardened criminals watching. I was an unknown quantity here, and I didn’t want them pegging me for a silly girl. Other than the female dancers and some of the servers prancing through the levels from the bar at the very center of the club, I might have been the only woman in the place.
Oh, no, maybe there was one lady down there in the far corner with a couple of men, her hair cut short but her lips a stark ruby red. Still, we were clearly a rare breed.
We passed one of the female servers on our way to our booth, and she trailed her hand over Blaze’s bicep and leaned in to whisper something quick in his ear. Huh. From the look on her face, she was aiming to hook up—with full knowledge of what to expect from him.
Had he slept with her before? From the playful wave one of the other servers aimed his way, he was pretty popular around here.
I’d known he was a flirt, but I hadn’t realized he followed up on it with much action. Now, he tugged on a lock of the first woman’s blond hair but said in a warm tone, “Not tonight. Tonight’s all business.”
But other nights? A spike of jealousy I hadn’t been prepared for lanced through me and soured my mouth. I swallowed thickly and yanked my gaze back to our path through the club. It wasn’t my business who he’d slept with before, especially when our relationship had never progressed to anything like that.
Julius marched first into the booth that was apparently the crew’s regular one, the rest of us flanking him. A tan leather sofa stretched the length of one wall, impossibly buttery when I sank down onto it. Two matching armchairs sat at either end of it, and a glass coffee table with mahogany legs gleamed between them all.
Julius and Talon seated themselves on either side of me. Blaze flopped into one of the chairs, and Garrison stayed standing with a typically cocky air.
“Order me an Old Fashioned,” he said. “I’m going to make the rounds.” He arched an eyebrow at me. “Try not to get into trouble while I’m gone.”
