He was quiet for a few moments before he admitted, “That’s not a bad plan.”

“I’m an excellent plan maker.” She wasn’t going to be modest about one of her few solid skills. “I also have a plan B and a plan C in case something goes awry.”

“Are you going to share with the class?”

They’d almost reached the door of the nondescript building, and a big, crabby-looking guy was watching them approach—the bouncer, Molly guessed. She lowered her voice. “Let’s hope for plan A. Otherwise, just follow my lead.”

Ignoring John’s low groan, Molly pulled her ID from one of her many pockets and extended it to the waiting bouncer. Although he scowled at her, he accepted the driver’s license, his gaze running over her in a way that wasn’t sexual, as if he was evaluating the likelihood that she’d get into a fight. It was a welcome change and a cautiousness that Molly could rally behind, so she stood still and quiet as he finished his assessment. As he handed back her driver’s license, he gave her the smallest, tightest dip of his chin, which she took as approval. Obviously, he couldn’t tell that she tended to tackle people rather regularly.

He regarded John more sourly, and Molly couldn’t blame the bouncer. After all, it was obvious that Carmondy would win whatever brawl he was involved in. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if he’d be allowed in.

“Watch yourself,” the bouncer finally grumbled, and Molly let out a silent breath of relief that she wouldn’t have to go it alone. She slipped past him with John close behind her. Once she’d made it through the narrow entryway that seemed like a fire tragedy waiting to happen, she paused to examine the bar.

From the warehouse-like exterior, she’d expected something huge, but the main section of the bar wasn’t very big. She couldn’t exactly call it cozy, but she could see the entire space from her spot by the entry, even with the low mood lighting. The old-school rock music was loud but not breath-stealing-ly deafening like a club would be. The place was busy but not packed, and the crowd was…interesting. She saw some tatted and pierced twentysomethings, a handful of biker types in their sixties, a couple of hard-faced middle-aged guys in suits at a booth toward the back, and even a couple of people wearing cowboy hats.

“Eclectic place,” John said in her ear, as if he’d read her mind.

“Yeah.” She ignored the brush of his breath across her ear and the side of her neck, trying to stay focused on their objective. “Do you see him?”

“No.”

On first scan, she didn’t, either, and her heart sank at the death of plan A. It had been such a simple and painless plan, too. On to plan B. Straightening her shoulders, she moved toward the bar. Before she reached it, she caught a flash of movement in the corner of her eye. Swiveling her head around, she grabbed the briefest glimpse of Sonny Zarver before he disappeared down a hallway marked Bathrooms.