Page 66 of Wicked Lies

The car slowed and eased to the curb as Cheryl brushed away her sorrow and flashed a bright smile while her gut twisted.

They exited the limo, and Cheryl scanned the crowd swirling around her on the sidewalk. She couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched as she swiveled her head in all directions. The overwhelming press of men in outrageous black leather outfits and women dressed in colors so bright they competed with the vibrant neon signs and amped up her paranoia. The intoxicating scent of tropical flowers and sweet perfume curled her nervous stomach.

Nick placed his hand firmly on the small of her back and led her to the entrance of the club. Every step felt like avoiding an unseen landmine as she braced herself and waited for the inevitable.

“You look great, boss,” the valet greeted. “We miss seeing you down here.”

They headed for the front of the club, and the beefy doorman stepped forward, letting a smile invade his dour expression. “Good to see you, boss.”

It intrigued her how everyone from the uniformed valet to the big, hulking bouncer at the door vied for Nick's attention. He greeted them warmly by name, and she could tell they respected him.

The bouncer stepped aside, pushed open the door, and pounding music escaped from inside the club. A second later, the sound of tires screeched at the curb and two uniforms bolted out of a patrol car marked Miami Beach/Dade County Police.

“Nick Santoro?” The taller one shouted in Nick’s direction as the shorter, fatter one pushed through the crowd.

The constant stream of people on the street halted, and even the noisy crowd corralled behind the velvet ropes quieted.

The enormous doorman stepped to Nick’s side, and the taller cop jerked his head. “Tell your goon to back off.”

Nick nodded, then the doorman stepped away and clasped his hands behind his back in some relaxed military-street posture.

“We have reason to believe you’re in possession of illegal drugs.” The taller one yanked Nick around, shoved him to the outside wall of the club, and patted down the front of his shirt.

Nick stayed cool and composed as he looked over his shoulder. “You’re making a mistake, boys. Drugs ain’t my thing.”

“Keep quiet.” The cop skimmed the pockets of Nick’s pants and his inseams.

“Go easy.” Nick shifted, then smirked. “Don’t wanna disappoint my girl later.”

The officer stood and addressed the other cop. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” The shorter cop asked. “Impossible.”

He stepped forward and repeated the entire procedure, only rougher.

“What’s the matter, you both want a feel?” Nick drawled.

The two cops exchanged a look. “Just watch yourself, wise guy.”

They said something to each other, returned to the squad car and sped away.

“Fuckin’ cops.” The bouncer advanced to Nick’s side. “You okay, boss?”

“Yeah.” Nick held his mouth tight as a storm loomed behind his eyes.

“Hey?” Cheryl moved to his other side. “You all right?” The plastic bag burned like a hot poker against her breastbone, but in reality, it was undetectable to anyone but her.

“I’m fine.” His tone meant the exact opposite.

Cheryl had made her decision two minutes after he told her he trusted her and how trust was the most important thing to him. She’d saved Nick from arrest, but by now, those cops were texting Frank about the botched job, and a shit storm was sure to follow.

The bouncer barked orders into his headset, then ushered them into the Oasis South. Anxious club-goers craned their necks for a better view, but the drama was over for them anyway. Cheryl swallowed hard. Trust and loyalty were high on Nick’s hit list, but now she’d have to explain how she kept Frank’s call from him, and most likely put his life was in danger. She reasoned Frank wouldn’t act in a crowded club, but she wasn’t naïve enough to believe he wouldn’t go through with his threat. Life and death meant very little to men like Frank Barnett.

The crowd parted as security escorted them toward the stairs leading to the VIP Room. Nick's firm hand on the small of her back guided her deeper into the club, where the pulse of the music thumped louder and the crowd of gyrating bodies grew thicker. The DJ suspended in his overhead cage commanded their attention and set the mood. The floor vibrated with energy as people jostled for position at the main bar. Shimmering fabric draped from the ceiling lent the vast room an intimate feel.

Nick stopped many times to greet people by name. It hit her how much was at stake for him, and why this trip was so important. They climbed the spiral staircase, and she skimmed her hand against the iridescent tile water wall spanning both levels of the club from floor to ceiling.

At the top of the staircase, the bouncer pointed past columns of twinkling amber lights to a table in the front corner. “Have a good night, boss.”

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