Deep (Pagano Family #4)(14)

oOo



‘The guys’ were Chi-Chi Rinaldi and Matty Ferro. With Brian, they’d made up the heart of Nick’s crew for a decade. They were still working with him; he had them on Church detail, which was Nick’s special project. And now the capos’ trouble looked to be part of his big picture.

The four of them rode together in Nick’s Navigator, with Jimmy, as ever, behind the wheel. Neon was one of the hottest nightclubs in Providence; the Pagano Brothers owned a forty-percent share of the club and sixty percent of the escort business it fronted. Jake Chambers managed both and had his own substantial minority shares. He’d been a mover in the nightclub and escort businesses for more than thirty years and affiliated with the Paganos for most of that time.

Because Alvin Church also owned a nightclub—The Pink Hole, popular in its own way, with a different clientele, but otherwise similar to Neon—Jake bumped up against Church associates on a regular basis. And the escort service had a lot of client overlap with the shylocks; a man with one vice tended to have many, and that tended to be expensive. Jake was smart and perceptive; he’d know if there was something shaking underground.

Neon was a good place to conduct business. Loud and dark, with deep, plush booths for privacy, and with heavy, live-monitored, unrecorded security and daily bug sweeps, it was one of the most secure places the Paganos had to talk openly. Nick, though not a fan of the music, if that was what it could be called, preferred the club for business. And the women were fine and plentiful.

Jake came over within minutes of their taking their reserved booth, before their drinks arrived. Nick accepted his greeting of respect and then waved him off. It was better to put business off, look like they were there to party, in the event that snoops or competitors were mingling with the club revelers.

With these guys, though, it was easy to look like they were there to party. Chi-Chi and Matty, ten years younger than Nick and Brian, were always good to party, and they had a running competition between them for the most and best *. As soon as Nick nodded, they took off on the prowl.

Brian sat back and scanned the dancers. Nick drank his scotch and turn his sight inward, thinking through what he’d learned this afternoon and what he wanted to get from Jake. Then Brian whistled, the sound splitting the pulse of the house music.

Nick looked over, and Brian leaned in. “You see that guy? He’s almost as big as Jimmy. I thought he was security at first, but he’s out there dancing. Which is a sight in itself.”

Curious, Nick followed Brian’s finger and saw a big guy with long, blond hair dancing with a tiny twig of a girl with dark hair and a full sleeve of ink. Yeah, the guy was definitely big. He nodded.

“I’m thinking we should get his details and check him out. We need to backfill security.”

His mind on bigger things, Nick made a noncommittal gesture. “Sure. Talk to him. Watch yourself.”

Brian slid out of the booth and headed to the dance floor just as the guy in question and his little slip of a chick headed toward the bar. Nick watched Brian follow him and make contact. And then he saw that the big blond and his tattooed lady had another companion. Beverly. Her sofa-moving friend was there, too, but Nick kept his eyes on her.

She wore a short, black dress that hugged her curves—she really did wear her clothes spectacularly well. The dress had a turtleneck but was sleeveless and somehow shoulder-less, too. Though only her arms and shoulders were bare, the effect was potent and alluring. Her dark hair was pulled back and, when she turned away, he saw that it was coiled into some kind of twist. She was pure class, substance in a sea of flash.

He finished his scotch as Brian brought the big guy and his friends toward the booth.





4



As head of security, Chris’s friend, Thomas, wasn’t on the door when Bev, Chris, Skylar, and Romeo walked up to the front. A long line of people dressed in fabulous clothes was already assembled. Getting into Neon was like an audition—only the prettiest and coolest made the cut. Unless they were on the list.

With his hand on Bev’s elbow, Chris led the group past the line and straight to the door. A huge black guy in a blue suit and black t-shirt gave their little group an appraising look, head to toe, and came back unimpressed.

Chris smiled. “I’m a friend of Thomas’s. We’re on the list. Chris Mills.”

The bouncer lifted his phone and scrolled the screen. He looked up, appraised them again, and nodded. “Enjoy.” He gestured to Romeo. “You in security?”

Romeo, gigantic and blond, like a Viking on steroids, grinned a little shyly. “No, man. I work in a warehouse.”

The bouncer laughed. “If you’re interested, talk to Thomas. Tell him Roland sent you back.”

Romeo nodded, and Bev and Sky grinned at each other. Romeo was huge and strong, but he was a lot more likely to cuddle kittens than bounce drunks. He was soft-spoken, sweet, and shy. Bev had never known him to even raise his voice.

They went in, and Bev felt immediately assailed by sound and light. The music, electronica with a driving beat, was ear-splittingly loud, and the huge room exploded with colorful light. True to its name, Neon was full of neon lights—striping and swirling on every wall, filling the vast, glass or Lucite center bar, coiling up the support beams. Otherwise, the setup was like most other clubs she’d been to—the long side walls dominated by elaborate booth seating, tall enough for privacy, the center space arrayed with two-top tables, a roomy dance floor, currently full of gyrating bodies, ringed with lighted railing and canopied by twisting dance lights. Behind the bar, on a raised platform, was the D.J. cage.