ALEC

He felt a pang of sorts as Maize left, watching her go with and wondering what made her leave as he was left standing solemnly in the middle of the floor.

She hadn't looked alright, he thought. She had been fine up until something changed, her eyes grew distant and suddenly she lost her smile. He hadn't failed to notice how she had gone from perfectly fine to not fine a all in a matter of moments. Like she had seen something that disturbed some sort of anxiety in her. But that couldn't be right...It was unlike her to lose her nerve so promptly like that. Or, maybe it had been him. Had he done something unknowingly wrong by asking her to dance? It had been an unexpectedly improvised move on his part, but he hadn't seen the harm in it. They would have been left standing uncomfortably in the middle of the floor otherwise. And besides, dancing had not at all been on his 'this-is-what-might-happen-today' list—let alone dancing with Maize. In fact, he had been fully prepared to hear her shut down the idea as soon as it had left his mouth. Imagine his surprise when she did the exact opposite.

It brought him a little more joy than he cared to admit.

Maybe it was because of how ticked off he had felt seeing her flirt with the blue-suit gambler. He hadn't known what he had been thinking at the time other than he couldn't believe she was wasting her time around a guy so unworthy of it. The guy was clearly a sap, and wasn't really that impressive to look out from his point of view. She could do better.

But he remembered that as soon as he had seen the guy begin stroking her leg, something in him had snapped. Enough was enough. And before he knew it, he was at her side, unknowingly cutting into a charade that she was playing just to get a name.

So perhaps he had jumped the gun a little bit. Didn't mean his intentions hadn't been honourable.

Plus, the satisfaction he got from getting to scare the shit out of the guy he was still pissed at didn't hurt.

Alec sighed to himself, figuring there was no reason in continuing to stand there doing nothing—especially with the small group of women who had begun to take some sort of interest in staring at him—so turned and began making his way through the crowd. Closer to the band, he caught sight of Kishan and the casino owner still dancing, twirling, and smiling. They looked like they were having fun.

For a moment he conflicted with himself, briefly wondering whether or not it would be best to stay and keep and eye on the two—since guarding Kishan was still his job—or if he should just leave them alone for now. Alec knew Kishan wasn't a kid, and though he tended to act like one, he was, in fact, older than him by a couple years. He would be fine on his own for a little while wouldn't he?

But still, making sure his friend didn't run into trouble or get caught was his job, the whole reason they were here. So far, it didn't seem to matter where—trouble could come at them from all directions.

However, as the detective flashed his friend and the casino owner another glance, he saw that they looked just as fine as the had since they had begun dancing in the first place. And Alec did note that Kishan wasn't just losing himself in the distraction that was the casino woman, he kept his eyes looking out here and there, relaxed, but staying alert enough--as a wanted man and all. Maybe Alec was just overthinking.

Heck, if Maize trusted her casino friend with their mission then he could at least trust her enough to make sure Kishan didn't get into any trouble for one night, right? That thought didn't convince him, but it was enough to satisfy his reasonings as he turned away from playing bodyguard and began sliding through the rest of the crowd. He was going to find Maize, see if she was ok. Seeing how she hadn't returned.

He retraced his footsteps back to the staircase that would lead him to the elevator. And, just like before, the two guards waited there. Their postures were rigid and firm, and they were both taller than him by a head. They reminded him of statues, statues with eyes bearing no other expression but angry glares.

"Evening gentlemen," he greeted, "just wondering if you could answer a quick question for me; did the woman we were here with before pass through here?"

Neither of the guards made a move to answer him.

Well...that's not helpful.

"Policías no deberían estar aquí," one of them growled to his partner. 'Cops shouldn't be here'.

Alec raised an eyebrow inquiringly and frowned to himself. Ok, that really wasn't helpful.

"Oh yeah? And why is that?" he asked, ignoring the momentary flashes of surprise on each of the guards faces before they glared once more.

Yeah, I understand.

They both regarded him with a newfound look of caution and uncertainty.

"Law has no business here." The other of the two guards glared down at him with obvious dislike at the fact that he knew understood them.

As completely unsuspicious as that sounds...Alec tilted his head. "What, afraid I might try to arrest someone while I'm here?" he inquired sarcastically. Did these two not realize that this place was more than 2500 miles outside his juristiction? "Beleive me gentlemen, I couldn't even if I wanted to. Are you saying there is a reason I should?"

The taller of the two growled at him, "No. But our instructions from Miss Alberona were to make sure you and the two you came with stay alive."

"That so?" He asked curiously.

The guards seemed irked by his nonchalent tone. "Heed who you anger in this place. Piss off the wrong person and you end up policía muerto." The one who spoke shot him a rueful glare.

It was hard to tell whether or not these two were trying to warn him, or threaten him.

Policía muerto meant dead cop.

Great.

"Well...thanks for the 'fun' talk," he said sarcastically. "But I still have an unanswered question."

"The woman went back up a little while ago."

Was that so hard?

"Thanks," he muttered before walked past them and headed for the elevator. They didn't give him any more trouble.

* * *

Jack Martinez muttered out every spanish curse he knew under the sun as he sat hunched over the bar, whisking a glass of scotch in his hand. How dare that arrogant halfwit threaten him like that. The thought alone brought another rise of fury in him. What he would give to have gotten him back for ruining such a golden opportunity with such an attractive woman. But, unfortunately, he had always been more for brain than he was for brawn. Physical dominance was not his strong suit.

He came here as a little treat to himself—and making an easy hundred-thousand dollars a night in cash on the side wasn't a bad addition either. Though that wasn't his main reason for coming, he was here for the women.

Again, curse that jealous boyfriend for ruining the opportunity with the one he had looped in before. No matter, he would just find another one to satisfy him tonight.

His phone that sat beside the coaster of his glass on the bar counter suddenly buzzed—another request from a client looking for information no doubt. He was known to most as a channeller of underground gossip, the man to go when you wanted to find all the rumours of the crime world in one spot—for a price. Martinez had always been one who knew a good opportunity when he saw one. He was good at what he did, and people paid him handsomely for it each and every time.

Martinez sighed, tipping back his drink before glancing at the phone again. Despite his rather poor night, he supposed he could at least see what they wanted.

The request to contact him still flashed on his screen—a part of the algorithm he had paid some renounced hacker to design for him so that he kept the number of people that could reach him controlled. He hit the accept button to allow the message to come trough, and was immediately met with a call.

He raised an eyebrow. Well someone was certainly eager...

"What can I do for you?" he asked as he answered the call and raised the phone up to his ear, drinking from his scotch glass.

The voice on the other end was deep, male. "Hunting for someone," he said as Martinez took in the information. "I need whatever you can find out about them and their whereabouts."

"Them?" Martinez repeated. "More than one mark?"

"Three. Sending the images now."

The man was certainly curt, Martinez thought as he pulled his phone back from his ear to see as a file popped up on his screen. Three images, three persons. He zoomed in slightly and his eyes lingered blinkingly on the individuals for a long few seconds, not quite sure he beilived it.

Then his face broke out into a shrewd grin.

"My my my..." he hummed to himself. "I really do just keep getting lucky tonight."

Spanish is not my first language so if my grammar needs correcting just let me know, it would be appreciated. Other than that, thank you for reading!