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He turned his back to the entrance for a splitsecond.
“Tell me when you’re heading in,” Damian said into themic.
“I’m at the door,” Cole said a few secondslater.
“Good.” Damian headed for the door. “Give me thirty seconds to getoriented.”
“Copy.”
Damian opened thedoor.
A bouncer sat on a stool, his stomach spilling over his jeans, the buttons on his shirt straining against the pressure of too muchflesh.
Damian nodded at him and acted like he’d been there a thousand times before. It was best not to speak. English would only draw attention tohim.
Locke and Derek had taken the opposite approach, choosing obviously American apparel and making no effort to hide their nationality. They would need to make small talk with each other and the waitresses to not appearsuspicious.
The bouncer gave him a quick up and down, lingering on his face long enough that Damian casually moved his hand toward his jacket, prepared to draw hisweapon.
The man let him pass, but that didn’t mean they were home free. Damian had no idea if Anastos had distributed pictures of him to hisarmy.
They would have to movefast.
He got the lay of land in less than ten seconds: Locke sitting alone next to the stage where a raven-haired dancer spun on the pole to Madonna’s Ray of Light, three more men sitting nearby — laborers from the looks of it, and very, very drunk — three waitresses in various positions around the club. the bartender, the bouncer by the front door and another one standing between the main room and a curtained doorway that Damian assumed led to the VIP room, where Derek was undoubtedly well into his lap dance. There were two doors besides the one leading to the VIP room, one that looked to be a dressing room from its position off the stage, the other behind the bar and more than likely leading to akitchen.
There was no sign of Anastos, but Damian knew Locke and Derek wouldn’t have sent the signal unless they’d had visual confirmation he was in the building. Damian’s money was on Anastos in the VIP room, which was probably why Derek had paid for the private lapdance.
They would have to watch theexits.
Damian had less than ten seconds before Cole came through the back door with gunsblazing.
He was nearing the bar, using it as an excuse to reach into his jacket — he would need a wallet to pay for a drink — when the sound of splintering wood sounded from the back of thebuilding.
It was followed by shattering glass and the muffled thump of Cole’s silencedgun.
There was a split second delay as everyone in the room caught up, looking toward the VIP room like they weren’t sure they’d heard what they thought they’dheard.
Their reflexes got faster when a round of semiautomatic gunfire rang through the building. The customers and staff dove to the floor en masse as the dancer crouched on stage, screaming as she tried to crab walk to safety in acrylic platformstilettos.
Locke was already on his feet, weapon in hand and heading for the door behind thestage.
Odds that Stefano was in the kitchen: slim andnone.
Damian headed for the door of the VIP room where another smattering of gunfire sounded, intercepted by the quieter shots of the guns carried by Locke andCole.
It was one of Damian’s protocols to outfit weapons with silencers when they were headed for a firefight. The enemy rarely used them when caught unaware, which made it easier to tell who was shooting who when they didn’t havevisibility.
“Don’t be stupid,” he said to the bartender as he passed, waving his gun in case the guy didn’t speakEnglish.
The man nodded frantically and held up his hands to indicate that he didn’t have aweapon.
Damian reached the doorway to the VIP room and flattened himself against the wall next to the curtains, listening to thegunfire.
“How many?” Damian said into hismic.
“Three so far,” Cole said through Damian’searpiece.
With Derek and Cole already in place, plus Damian, they were evenlymatched.
