I quickly change and head back to my car. While driving to The Emerald, I weigh my options. I’ll be drinking at a club owned by the man whose head I want to mount on my wall and may even find some information. Or I can drink at another club, with less opportunity to make progress on the investigation.
The Omen owns most of the clubs and bars in Washington, DC, anyway. He dabbles in pretty much everything in the city, and almost every business with his name on it is dirty.
It’s one of the biggest reasons it’s so hard to accomplish my goal, at least when trying to do it the smart way. When you have unlimited money, you have more allies. When you have the law on your side, you’re unstoppable. Even though I’m in law enforcement, The Omen has more pull than I do.
And that pisses me off.
Abusing my badge, I step on the gas. The Omen's face in my mind’s eye is enough to have me rushing to the club, hoping I can find something, hear anything. And if I don’t? Then at least, I’ll be able to get my dick wet.
The closer I get to the club, the more the bright green lights from the exterior light the smog with an eerie hue. When I finally arrive and park, I can feel the music's bass thumping inside my car. The club must be packed, which sends excitement straight to my cock, but my other head realizes it will be hard to concentrate on my investigative goal.
I spot Bastian, shifting uncomfortably outside the door as he waits. Short skirts and tight dresses pass him as he purposely avoids their glances, his attention going straight to his phone whenever he makes eye contact.
I chuckle to myself at my friend’s awkwardness. For someone who wants to get laid, he doesn’t do much to get the job done. He ignores what I like to call my lessons in one-night stands, but the nerdy little hacker is too sentimental to be bothered. Not that you can have a happily ever after if you don’t have the balls to make shit happen.
Getting out of my car, I check my surroundings. Nothing seems out of the ordinary for a club parking lot; drunk girls who started a little too early falling over each other, people dry-humping against cars, and cars rocking while others get a quick fuck in the backseat. I walk towards Bass, shaking my head when he catches sight of me.
I chuckle again as he rolls his eyes. “Hard to be your wingman when you're avoiding every possible lay that walks by you. Maybe you should go home, Bass.”
“I’ll stay and try to break out of my comfort zone.”
I don’t respond. We walk into the club, pushing past the gyrating bodies towards the bar, and I clear a path as Bastian stays close on my heels.
“Two whiskeys’, neat,” I order the bartender, cutting in front of the long line waiting for their drinks.
“Back of the line.”
I smile, turning slightly as his eyes dart down to the piece tucked at my side. It’s safer than whipping out my badge and announcing that I’m law enforcement in my enemy's
place of business. The man’s eyes shift up to mine before he quickly looks away in fear. You’d think working under a mob boss, the man wouldn’t wilt at the flash of a gun.
Pussy.
“Coming right up,” he says before shuffling off. Bastian scuffs next to me in irritation, and I just give him a wink as I lean against the bar. I wonder if I corner that bitch of a bartender, he’d drop any information on The Omen.
My eyes scan the crowd, mainly looking at my pickings for the night. I feel Bastian’s unease, creating a bubble of anxiety around us. I slap my hand on the bar ushering the bartender to hurry the fuck up.
“Would you fucking stop?” Bastian demands in a calm voice.
“What’s the matter, Bass? Worried I might bring some attention to you? That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? Attention?”
He groans, putting his focus back on his phone. After a few more minutes, the bartender slams our drinks behind us on the counter.
“Thank you, precious.”
“Can you move towards the other side of the bar? I have patrons waiting,” the bartender asks, irritation in his voice.
Ah, now we’re finding our balls.
“Nope. Why don’t you move your patrons to that side of the bar?”
Without another word, he motions the other people waiting towards the opposite side from where we stand. “Good puppy.”
“You’re such a dick, Liam,” Bastian quips.
“This isn’t news.”
Bastian and I lean against the bar, watching the crowd around us for a while, mostly staying quiet. I can tell he’s becoming impatient, but I didn’t want to find a girl to fuck as soon as I got here, and I can’t allow myself to get distracted just yet.