Page 9 of Miki

Vlad moved to block his exit.

Tilting my head slightly, I silently watched Simpson look around the busy coffee shop, contemplating what he should do next. I smirked. The guy was trying hard to look like he was unaffected by my presence. However, the slight increase in his breathing and the acrid stench of sweat told the truth. The guy was nervous as fuck, and I couldn’t be happier by that.

As seconds ticked by, I observed his inner turmoil, which was written all over his face. That was unexpected, disappointing, even. Considering his job, I had thought he’d be much calmer under pressure and certainly more able to hide his emotions. I had obviously caught him off guard. Well, if nothing else, being able to read him so openly would work in my favour. It would make bending him to my will that much easier.

Finally, obviously unwilling to make a scene, he sunk back into his seat, and I smiled evilly as I passed a large brown envelope across the table.

“Open it,” I told him and leaned back in my chair, keeping my posture relaxed.

Simpson reached for it, and a second later, he blanched.

After several more seconds of absolute silence, as he stared at the contents, he looked into my eyes.

“What exactly do you want from me?” he asked, gulping.

Got you, arsehole!

The disgusting bastard was a married man who liked to mess about with young men, rent boys not much older than his fourteen-year-old twin sons, and he also had a penchant for snorting cocaine while enjoying their company. And we had the photographs to prove it.

So, now he would give me the information I needed, or I would leak the photographs to the newspapers.

As a criminal defence lawyer, Simpson had a lot to lose. Not only would he want to avoid the cost to his reputation, but being married to one of London’s top divorce lawyers, I assumed he would do anything to avoid the considerable cost of divorce, too. He was well and truly screwed, and he knew it.

The guy was mine; I owned him now and he would soon learn exactly what that meant.

“We will start with your boss’s name, and we can do it the easy way or not; your choice,” I smiled wider, not in the least bit friendly.

Simpson gulped loudly and looked down at the envelope again, contemplating his options. I gave him a minute to let the weight of his predicament sink in.

Finally, he put the contents back in the envelope and pushed it across the table towards me.

“Keep it; I have copies,” I told him, and Simpson blanched again. So much so that I thought he was about to pass out on me. Geez, could this guy get any paler?

Letting out a long, ragged breath, he briefly closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he looked at me and I saw the internal debate going on inside him. I thought for a moment that he might have the balls to tell me to go screw myself, but then he looked away, and I knew he didn’t.

Good. This man would tell me what I wanted to know, even if I had to take him somewhere more private and ensure that he did, but considering he was a prominent figure, I preferred to do it the easy way for now.

“Aidan Mathieson!” he finally said.

My eyes narrowed, and I frowned. The name was familiar, although I had never made his acquaintance.

“If I tell you what I know, will that be the end of it?” he asked.

When I said nothing, he continued talking, taking my silence for acquiescence, it seemed. Some of his colour returned, and he grew bolder, smirking as he spoke.

“I mean, a man like yourself knows all about the darker proclivities. Those of us with, shall we say, more specialised tendencies need to stick together. There’s really no reason anyone else should find out about this. Am I right?” the little weasel said, licking his lips and darting his eyes around nervously.

My body tensed and my hands bunched into fists under the table as I held back the urge to smash the ugly fuck’s face into a pulp. Instead, I forced myself to lean back and smirk.

Simpson returned it, obviously thinking I was agreeing with him. Stupid arsehole. Well, he would find out soon enough just how wrong he was, but in the meantime, it didn’t hurt to let him think all he needed to do was co-operate and he wouldn’t have to pay for his sins.

“Tell me everything, and hold nothing back,” I said, my stare enough to imply the unspoken threats behind my words. It did the trick. The guy visibly paled again, gulping hard before finally regaining some of the composure he must have developed for the courtroom and nodding sharply in agreement.

As Vlad and I left the coffee shop a short time later, I couldn’t stop my grin. I finally had the name of Nigel Simpson’s boss. I was one step closer to making my family safer and eliminating the last of my enemies. Or so I hoped.

Trigger appeared beside us like a phantom, making Vlad grunt and take an unwitting step in front of me before he realised who it was. Thank god the guy was on our side because he could sneak up on a person faster than anyone could blink. Thankfully, he was one of my most trusted soldiers these days and was in charge of the guys assigned to trail Simpson.

“Watch him. We’ve got him by the balls, but I’m sure he’d do just about anything to weasel his way out of our hold,” I told him.

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