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us back in!” Some idiot standing in front of the now happy crowd shouted at one of the nearby officers.
    Quickly responding, a thick-bodied officer nudged him back a few feet and barked at him, “Shut up!”
    Max shook his head and chuckled lightly. He retrieved the forms for the owner to sign and the citation pad just in case he felt the owner should be cited for the false alarm. When he finished gathering his documents he heard Pierce’s deep voice come through the radio loud and clear.
    “Area secured, secondary uniform personnel and club staff may enter only…no patrons at this time. Over.”
    “Copy that lieutenant. Over,” Max spoke into the radio on his shoulder.
    He walked through the frost-stained glass double doors and was almost knocked off his feet by the club’s immaculate interior. He was immediately relieved this was a false alarm because it would be a tragedy indeed to have burned this place down. He did a quick survey of his surroundings and counted at least nine flat-screen forty-seven-inch high-definition televisions strategically placed around the lower level. The black-and-white marbled dance floor looked large enough to fit five hundred sweaty bodies. The outer
    perimeter was littered with various tables of different sizes. Each white marble tabletop was accompanied with several burgundy cushion-back chairs. Max tried to remember to keep his mouth closed as he studied the angel-decorated white columns that provided support for the second level.
    The infinite number of red, green, and blue strobe lights still flickered around the immaculate club even though all the lights were on. He noticed a glass ceiling-to-floor wall on the right side of the upper level that had closed drapes to prevent anyone from looking inside of what appeared to be some type of room or office. If the first level looked this grand, he could only imagine what the sec— “Don’t fucking tell me to come down, I want that bastard arrested!”
    Max’s thoughts were interrupted as he spun around toward the deepest growling voice he’d ever heard in his life. He instinctively moved in that direction while taking in the scene on the other side of the oblong glass-top bar.
    Max saw Pierce, three police officers, and the Incident Commander talking to a man who from behind looked like one of those underwear models for Calvin Klein. He was sure it was a man despite the beautiful black hair reaching to his round ass. What the hel ? Why would I cal a guy’s hair beautiful? Or describe his ass? Shit, anyone would notice him, I mean he doesn’t look like any man I’ve ever seen. Max couldn’t help but notice the expensive black slacks that tapered at the man’s narrow waist and hugged his butt. The silky, black short-sleeved collared shirt looked like someone had grabbed the man from behind because it was pretty wrinkled in the back.
    Max made his way to the commotion just in time to see Pierce put up both his hands in a placating gesture, trying to speak calmly to the irate man.
    “Sir, I know you’re upset, but yelling at us is not going to help. We need to get some more information from you so we can try to locate him.”
    “Yes, so one more time, Mr. DeLucca. Why was the gentleman in question up in your personal office if he wasn’t staff?” a police officer interrupted Pierce’s rationalization. His lip turned up in disgust, already assuming the answer and not the least bit affected by the harsh glare radiating from the man’s dangerous, smoky brown eyes.
     
    “I’ve told you twice already. I’m beginning to think you’re just getting off on my fucking story! The man approached me downstairs, we exchanged words, he asked me if we could go someplace a little quieter, and I directed him to my office.”
    Max watched the dark man try to quench his anger while he recounted the events that took place right before his alarm was pulled. His staff began making their way back in, but they kept looking over at them with