Dangerous Games (Riley Jenson Guardian #4)(18)

The only way to know was to go there and snoop. While it was now early afternoon, I had no doubt the club would be open. Most of the King Street venues now had twenty-four-hour licenses, and served food, alcohol, and the promise of a good time to any who entered. It wasn’t unusual to have lunchtime lines almost as long as the nighttime ones, as those on midday breaks tried to get inside for a little action. Trouble was, I wouldn’t get in dressed as casually as I was, not without flashing my ID—and I had a feeling that was something I’d better avoid until I scoped out the place.
Clairvoyance, I thought, as I started up the car, truly sucked. I mean, if it was going to feed me little warnings, it could at least add why.
I headed home and changed into something a little more upmarket and sexy, then grabbed my thickest coat and drove on to the club.
There was a line out the front, but not a huge one. The rain was still coming down intermittently and the wind that whipped down King Street was icy, blasting away at the flyaway ends of my long woolen coat. By the time I got to the door, my bare legs had an almost blue tinge. Considering the red hair, it wasn’t a good look.
“You’re looking a little cold,” the bright spark manning the door said as he opened it.
“You’d better have coffee inside, or things could get ugly,” I said, through chattering teeth. God, the things I did for my job.
The bouncer chuckled, white teeth positively glowing compared to his dark skin. “Fresh made on the hour and thick enough to stand a spoon in.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
“It’ll warm the cockles of your heart right quick.”
“Well, my cockles definitely need warming.”
He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering just a little on the plunging neckline of my dark green cashmere sweater. “Hard for me to judge that with the coat you’ve got on.” He grinned, brown eyes twinkling. “There’s a cloakroom inside, if you want to ditch it.”
“I do. Thanks.”
He nodded and closed the door behind me. I stopped, waiting until my eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness before checking my coat and heading down the steps into the club proper.
The main room had a retro feel and was bigger than I’d expected. A primary-colored, well-lit bar curved around a good part of the room and was lined with old-fashioned silver stools. Funky disco balls sprayed rainbow colors across the large dance floor, and in the semidarkness that lined the remaining walls were sunken couches and old-fashioned diner tables, complete with booth seating. The music itself was a loud mix of dance and techno. Not my taste, but at least ignorable. Maybe they turned down the volume during the day. 
I scanned the shadows. There were lots of people inside—the line outside was testament to that—but the sheer size of the room lent a feeling of space that few clubs could boast. Me, I liked my clubs crowded. All that flesh to flesh was a pleasure my wolf soul adored.
I walked over to the bar and propped on one of the stools. The bartender walked up from the other end, a polite smile touching his Asian features. “What can I do for you, pretty lady?”
“The man at the door promised me coffee strong enough to warm the cockles.” I raised an eyebrow, a smile teasing my lips. “I’m here to see if the coffee lives up to that promise.”
Amusement touched his lush lips and dark eyes, and my hormones sat up and took notice. “Cold outside, huh?”
“Goddamn freezing.” I let my gaze slip down his back as he walked across to the coffee machine and grabbed a mug. Good shoulders. Nice ass. Shame this wasn’t a wolf club—I caught the thought and shoved it away. I was here to work, not amuse giddy hormones.
“Milk? Sugar?”
Awareness shone in the deep brown depths of his eyes. He knew full well I’d been checking him out and wasn’t in the least bit fazed. Maybe even appreciated it. “White and one, thanks.”
He nodded, filled the cup, then walked back. I have to say, the packaging looked just as good from the front, too. He slid the coffee across the red-lit countertop, but waved away my money. “If you’re going to be here a few hours, we’ll run a tab and you can pay when you leave.”
“Thanks.” I lifted the mug, wrapping my hands around it to warm them up. One sip proved the security guy hadn’t been kidding. The coffee was like sludge—thick and strong but surprisingly tasty.
“So, it lives up to its rep?” the bartender asked, watching my expression with increasing amusement.
“I think it’s safe to say I’ve never tasted anything like it. But it certainly warms the cockles.” I grinned and held out a hand. “I’m Riley.”
“Jin.”
His fingers were warm against mine, his palms calloused and grip strong. Not the hands of someone who did bartending for a living. “You tend bar here often?”
He shrugged as he grabbed a tea towel and began polishing glasses. “Couple of times a week. It’s good money for casuals.”
“Ah.” I took a sip of the coffee. “That’s probably why I haven’t seen you before.”
“You come here often, then?”
Something flashed on his left hand as he picked up another glass. A ring of some kind. Luckily, it was on his index finger rather than his ring finger. I hated flirting with someone who was married. Just a waste of everyone’s time.
“Sometimes.” I grinned. “I got personal attention from a yummy bartender then, too.”
“We’re the friendly type here.” He studied me for a moment, interest still very evident. “That why you’re here today?”
“Actually, no. I’m here to catch up with an old friend who works here part-time.”
“What’s his name?”
“Her name. Trudi Stone.” I studied him but caught no reaction to her name. Though why I was expecting one, I couldn’t say.
“Hang on a sec, and I’ll go check when she’s next on.” He walked down to the middle of the bar, served a man who was giving me a more than casual look-over, then disappeared inside a small office. He came back out a few seconds later. “According to the roster, she isn’t back on until tomorrow night.”“Damn, I swear she said she was on today.” I put the coffee down and crossed my arms on the counter, leaning forward a little to give him a better view of my breasts. Hey, he was sexy, and I might as well enjoy myself while scavenging around for information. I certainly couldn’t risk trying to read his mind here—not when there were security cameras everywhere. My telepathy might be strong, but anyone could be watching, and it would only take one person to notice the momentary stillness of the bartender as I searched his mind for things to go ass up. Better to do that sort of thing when I had him alone. “So, when are you back on?”
His gaze went from my face to my boobs and back again. Amusement curved his very kissable lips. “When do you want me on?”
“How about tonight?”
“It’d be my pleasure.”
I raised an eyebrow. “It had better be mine, too.”
He chuckled softly. “Oh, I guarantee it. But I do need a contact number.”
“If you’ve got the pen, I’ve got the number.”
He produced a pen and a bit of paper from under the desk and slid both across the counter with his left hand. For the first time, the ring on his finger was fully visible.
On the flat silver surface was a three-headed dragon with wicked claws and bloodred eyes.
Just like the ring I’d found in the dust at Dunleavy’s place.
Chapter 5

Nice ring,” I murmured after a momentary pause, then casually picked up the pen and wrote down my cell phone number.
“This old thing?” He wriggled his fingers under the lights, so that the fiery eyes of the dragon heads glittered and burned. “It’s just a club ring. Not worth much, but it catches the attention of pretty girls.”
If he was lying, I couldn’t sense it. Not that that meant anything. He was human, after all. “So it’s a conversation opener?”
“It always helps to have one.” He picked up the paper and tucked it neatly into his shirt pocket. “What time would you like to meet?”
I picked up my coffee and sipped it again. “What time do you finish here?”
“Seven.”
“Then would nine suit?”
“Perfectly. Shall we meet somewhere for coffee or just go out for dinner?”
“Dinner.” I paused. “There’s an Italian place over on Rathdown Street. Small and intimate. Goes by the name of Riceni’s.”
He nodded. “Good choice.”
“I always make good choices.” My voice was a low purr, and heat rose in his eyes. I gave him a slow smile. “In the meantime, would you know if the restaurant upstairs is still open?” 
“It never closes. If you head up the stairs now, I’ll ring the chef and tell him to look after you.”
“Thanks.” I slid off the stool, picked up my coffee, and headed up the stairs—fully aware of Jin’s hungry gaze following me and enjoying every minute of it.
The chef did indeed look after me, giving me a steak that sliced like butter and lashings of chips and vegetables. It was one full but happy wolf who headed out onto the street an hour later.
Once in the car, I retrieved my phone, pressed the vid-enable button, then dialed the Directorate. Jack, not the caramel cow.