Page 67 of Wicked Lies

He clasped her hand in his and led her to a deep green suede banquette wrapped around a kidney-shaped table already set up with bottles of Patron Platinum and champagne submerged in silver ice buckets. Sheer gauze separated each section of the prime spot, providing a full view of the dance floor below them.

A handsome, impeccably dressed man with tight-cropped black hair and warm brown eyes whom she guessed to be in his early forties, appeared at Nick’s side.

“So this is the beautiful lady who stole Miami’s most eligible bachelor.” His rich, seductive accent rippled over the house music.

“Cheryl, this is Carlos. He’s the man who makes this club work.” Nick’s words sounded sincere, but his eyes remained watchful.

“He gives me way too much credit,” Carlos said graciously.

“How’s the table service tonight?” Nick asked.

Carlos motioned around the VIP Room. “Full house.”

Genuine respect filled Carlos’s voice, but Nick remained stiff and edgy, probably leftover tension from his encounter with the cops.

“Raul and Isabelle are on the dance floor. They asked to join you tonight.”

“Fine.” Nick leaned into Carlos. “Can I have a word?” His voice remained soft, but his eyes shone like hard, black pieces of onyx.

“Of course.” Carlos turned to her. “Again, it was a pleasure to meet you, and if you want anything, you need only ask.”

Nick eased her onto the soft suede cushions and brushed her lips with a kiss. “Back in a minute.”

He straightened and followed Carlos to the far side of the service bar. She drew in a cleansing breath and then scoped out a ladies’ room, anxious to get rid of the coke and any evidence of her deception.

21

Carlos stopped at the end of the service bar, where they could talk in relative quiet. He motioned for the bartender, then turned to Nick. “What can I get you?”

“What the fuck is going on?” Nick demanded.

Carlos spun away from the bar. “What?”

Nick couldn’t figure out if Carlos was confused or defensive.

“I nearly got popped outside the club just now.” Nick pinned him with a cold, steady glare.

“Cops?” The bartender placed Carlos’s drink in front of him, and he gulped down half of it.

“Patted me down for drugs. You know about this?” Nick cocked an eyebrow. “Or maybe you set it up?”

“Nick.” Carlos frowned. “How could you say that?”

“The cops seemed disappointed.” He paused. “No, surprised, like they expected to find junk on me.”

“And you think I had something to do with it?” Carlos set his glass on the bar, and Nick noticed the slight tremor of his hand.

“I saw Graciela today, and she said someone’s running drugs through the club.”

Carlos tipped his chin. “And you believe her, a coked-up party girl, over me?”

“I’m thinking you didn’t tell me because it’s Alejandro doing the dealing.”

Carlos sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. Fuckin’ guilty as hell.

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me,” Nick warned.

“What can I say?” Carlos hung his head. “I’ve tried talking to him.” He splayed his hands over the bar. “He’s my sister’s son. He’s always been trouble, a disgrace to the family.”

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