“Let’s go to the Dallam Club.”
“I’m not a member there.”
“Neither am I,” Eron explained. “The owner is a former client. They’ll let me and a guest eat there.”
When they arrived at the club, the ma?tre d’ smiled when Eron walked up to him. The smile melted into a concerned frown. The host took a deep breath and picked up a phone extension. After a few words, he forced a smile and led them into the large dining room.
The room was dark compared to the bright reception area. Red leather booths lined the walls. Patrons seated in matching red leather chairs filled the middle of the room. The ma?tre d’ led them to a booth in the back by the kitchen. It wasn’t the best table, but what could they expect?
* * * *