“Oh, shit,” I chuckle fake-drunkenly, giving Phoenix a clueless smile. “I told you this wasn’t the right way in!”
Phoenix looks at me as though he’s not quite sure how to play along. The boy’s too damn stiff, too damn conscious of himself. Determined not to look like a fool.
That’s another lesson I’ll need to drill into him. Sometimes looking like a fool can help con the other side into underestimating you.
“Sorry, man,” I drawl, even as I keep sidling forward towards the bouncer. “We’ll head out. Where is the entrance?”
He scowls at me. “It’s right around the corner,” he says. “Open your fucking eyes.”
“Sorry, man,” I repeat again.
I’ve managed to get within a few feet of him. And that’s all I really need. Proximity.
I pull my gun out, armed with the silencer, and shoot twice.
The sound is slight, definitely indistinguishable to anyone outside a ten-foot radius. The hulking bouncer hits the floor so heavily that I’m pretty sure I hear something break in his pocket.
Phoenix and I quickly drag him behind a dumpster. Then we slip into the club from the back.
The passageway is broad, darkly wall-papered, and dimly lit by hanging sconces lining the walls. It spits us out into the main body of the club.
The music out here blares, but since it’s still daytime, there isn’t a throng of people like there would be on any given night of the week. More than I expect, though. Not ideal. At least they’re mostly confined to the VIP areas.
Making sure Phoenix is behind me, I peer around from the passageway and survey the space.
A couple of scantily-clad waitresses roam around, carrying circular trays and vacant expressions. I spy two groups clustered in the VIP section—and behind them, a set of stairs.
“Okay,” I whisper to Phoenix. “We’ve got a pair groups in the VIP section. A couple of waitresses flitting around, too, but we can ignore them for now. Move in, kill anyone who needs killing—but don’t draw attention.”
“Not all of us have silencers on our guns,” Phoenix says.
I give him a wink. “You don’t need that. You just need me.”
I keep my gun held out of sight at my side as Phoenix and I snake our way around the edge of the dancefloor. We duck under the velvet rope to VIP and stick to the shadows as we delve deeper.
The stairs beckon at the back of the VIP section. A few of the patrons look up at us drunkenly, but they’re too deep into their partying to give much of a shit.
We’re almost there. Just a few more steps and—
Fuck.
Two armed men race down the stairs. Someone must’ve seen us coming and alerted security.
One of them fires brazenly. The first shot narrowly misses my arm. I duck to the side and fire three shots, one after the other. But since I’m not really aiming, both men manage to sidestep the bullets.
Thinking they have the upper hand, they charge forward. Big fucking mistake.
Phoenix pops out from behind a red leather couch and buries a bullet in the leading man’s forehead. He’s out instantly, his momentum carrying him crashing into a glass table.
It shatters. Shards erupt everywhere. Screams and loud music mix together.
But there’s still one more guard left to deal with. He’s taken cover behind a curve in the railing. As I watch and wait for my opportunity, he leans out and fires a barrage of bullets at us. He shoots and shoots until, click—his clip runs empty.
That’s my chance.
I charge forward. I still don’t have an angle to get a shot off, but that’s fine. I’ll just choke the life out of this motherfucker.
When I round the corner, though, he’s not where I expected him to be.