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“Look, Mr. Callahan. Give me a shot. I'm the guy to handle your security team. But I'll need double what Dexter pays me.”
“All right. I'll give you thirty days to prove yourself. But double pay only starts after the probationary period.”
“Nah, man. Why would I accept half the pay?”
“Because you expect me to pay you double.” I stare into his eyes. He's scum like his boss, but I need someone from Dexter's team close. So I up the heat.
“You must think I'm a fuckin' rookie.” I step forward to call his bluff. “I'm not about to pay double for you to run back to Dexter before the ink dries. Both of us gotta be in this, or it's not happening.”
He breaks eye contact and glances down the alley, deep in thought. “Fine, man. You got a deal.”
“Bet. Now get me in.”
“In?”
“Yes, Cody. In.” I close the space, and he shrinks a little. “You know how to get me in. Get me in tonight, and I'll erase the probationary period.”
“He knows who you are.”
“I'll handle that. Get.Me. In.”
I stand my ground and let him chew on my offer. I can't walk away, or he'll kill my plan. I need to be in that roomtonight.
“Fine.”
Cody holds out his hand, and we shake. Then he nods and lets me enter the club through a back door.
I follow him, feeling the music echoing through the walls. Luckily, the darkness of the club offers me anonymity, just as it does for most clubbers or lawbreakers.
The Vault gives off a facade of high class, but the shadows speak its truth. Laymen flock to the establishment for the DJs and the parties, not realizing the evil deals happening around them.
Crooked politicians, drug lords, and men with unlimited finances and no honor frequent here. It appears to be a competitor to Club Allure, but it's far from it.
“Wait right here.”
Cody walks over to the guard near the entrance of the VIP room. The bodyguard glances over at me and back to Cody. They slap hands, and I see the cash passing hands.
It's time.
Cody walks back and points toward a row of tables at the back of the club, in the VIP area.
“Mike Johnson's the man to get you inside. I paid one of his guards to get you in. The rest is on you.”
“Okay,” I murmur, placing a small wad of hundred-dollar bills in Cody's palm. “For your trouble, and I'll be in touch.”
Cody looks at the bills. He looks surprised that I'm paying him since Andres took care of it. But I've found the best way to maintain newfound loyalty is with money. And I have plenty of it.
I move away from Cody, satisfied that he's opened the door to move my plan forward. I follow Mike, assessing the location and movements of the security guards scattered throughout the nightclub. The good part of working with cameras and security is that I've learned to recognize plain-clothed guards scattered among the crowd.
Just as Cody said, one of Mike's men flags me forward. He lets me into the private booth so I can talk to his boss.
Mike is the kind of guy who blends in easily. Not too tall, not too short, with an unremarkable face, blond hair, and slightly crooked teeth.
His smile is obnoxious and smug. When I reach him, he has a female companion sitting on his lap, performing a private number for him. The curvaceous woman wears a tiny black dress that rides up her thighs.
Mike turns and looks at me with a scowl. “What do you want?”
“I came to do business with you.” I don't get comfortable, preparing myself for anything.
