It wasn’t that Tim didn’t appreciate the informant; he knew it was unsafe for both of them to have communications. And if they were willing to set aside the fact that he was a cop to help him, well, he’d set aside all the shady things he saw going down in their fine establishment.

He realized now that ‘fine’ might be a generous title. It was a club, and a shady one at that. He stepped through the crowds of drunk and high people dancing and fighting and making out, eyes slowly moving to keep stock of his surroundings. In plain clothes, of course; if he had a badge showing now, he’d be jumped after stepping a foot inside.

He finally reached the VIP booth, brushing past the bouncer that didn’t even acknowledge him. His hands were in his pockets as he looked down at them; owner of the club, police informant, and unfortunately, the person Tim needed.

“I have a case,” he said bluntly. He never was too good with those flowery pleasantries.