Page 34 of Prey

“Hey, Mikky,” Gunner mumbled, taking the leather armchair beside him while I took the chair against the far wall. “Happy birthday.”

“Ah, fuck,” he cringed, looking like he just smelt something bad.

“Gotcha, little present,” he laid the brown paper bag on the coffee table next to a white bakery box. “That from Betty?”

“Yeah,” Mikky stated, feigning annoyance at making a fuss, but he loved us for it too.

“Here, I got you a bottle of your favorite,” I exclaimed as Mikky took the bottle and read the label. His eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Am I paying you too much?” he growled, placing the bottle beside the white box.

“Nah, I saved up for it,” I told him, and a bashful expression flashed across his face.

“Fuck, Ronan. Take it back,” he argued. “You can’t afford this shit. It’s an 18yo.”

“It’s good, Mikky, it’s good. I got a discount,” I lied. “Besides, I threw away the receipt.”

“Eighteen is a good age, though,” Gunner chuckled, but he wasn’t talking about scotch whiskey. He opened the white box and showed me the untouched small cake that saidHappy 28thMikkyin red icing. “Is that how old you are? Climbing up to thirty.”

Mikky’s jaw pulsated at Gunner taking the piss, and I suspected that it was not what Gunner said exactly but the fact three years had been ripped away from him. “Red velvet. Never had a sweet tooth.”

“So, you’ll like these then,” Gunner stated, pointing to the brown paper bag. “Denmark King.”

Mikky cleared his throat as if he was about to say something, but he took a drag from his cigar and blew out the smoke, and I knew he was swallowing back his sentiments. “There’s nothing better,” he finally specified, “than when Scotland and Denmark meet in a Viking conquest.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to the Battle of Barry ten-ten AD.”

“Except when Ireland is invited,” I added for a piece of my heritage. “We bring the fun.”

I got a smile out of Mikky, and that’s all I care about. The three of us had to watch each other’s back and ensure we were okay because we had nothing if we didn’t have each other’s back.

“Alright,” Mikky drained his glass and rose to his feet. “Let’s get this ritualistic gallantry out of the way.”

Gunner and I followed our boss down the hallway, smoothing our suits down and adjusting our ties. We were eager to watch the working girls clamber over him and the wealthy members rise to their feet to shake his hand. Even though I ran this club while Mikky was inside, I was only a puppet boss, doing whatever Mikky demanded and expected of me. I never made big decisions or changed anything important without his saying so.

But fuck, I’m glad he’s back because I could relax and focus on the belly of the business, where the real guts and blood resides. The stuff the dancing girls and privileged members never got to see because it’s so well hidden.

Straight backs, expensive suits, slick hair, clean shaven…well, I was. Mikky and Gunner had a bit of stubble just because it’s fashionable, and honestly, it suited Mikky since he looked as if prison had aged him a little. But the three of us were a force to reckon with, and you’d have to be a fucking baked dunce to mess with us.

Mikky stepped onto the floor, and Betty came scooting over, trying to suppress that proud smile. She kissed his cheek, brushed invisible lint off his shoulder, and then lured him toward Mr. Copper, the spitting image of Winston Churchill, with the same dress sense and a fat cigar hanging from his mouth. He’s worth a couple of billion, and with a twinkle in his eye, he nodded to the leather chair opposite him for Mikky to sit.

While they chatted quietly about business, Gunner and I scoped the floor to ensure everyone was in their place as thewheels spun, cards were shuffled, and a sea of men in expensive suits parted with their cash.

The bar was in full swing, with several men waiting for their drinks, and the band in the next room was warming up. This was the life. This was what I lived for.

Mikky was starting to chill out, shoulders relaxing while Gunner was scanning the room with those sharp eyes, hunter on the prowl. Gunner’s default setting was the predator searching for discrepancies, suspicious behavior, and enemies in disguise to siphon out and dispose of. It was important never to let our guard down because even though it was a reasonably peaceful exchange between the Kaisers and the Ivanov family, believing they were gone for good was foolish.

Long brown hair flows behind a waitress, walking quickly around the table, holding a tray with five drinks and balancing that thing like a circus act. She reminded me of the selkie with the fake ID who is due to start work here in a couple of days. The perfect setup was Petra Black trapped in the kitchen, selkie in a cage, where I could keep an eye on her. Kitchenhands didn’t leave the kitchen the entire shift because their purpose was washing and stacking the dishes, so I’d know exactly where she was to see her and strike up a conversation with her.

I wished I had access to her brain to figure out when she would return to the nature pool in the forest and see her in her most vivacious, shimmering beauty.

“I got an idea of how to get to know Riley Laws,” Gunner whispered, “and maybe find out if she was really Annika.”

“Do I want to know?” I asked bluntly because Gunner's dark side needed to be controlled and tamed, but I could leave the details of his thoughts behind.

“Nah,” he replied shortly. “I’ll sort it.”

“You won’t hurt her?” I was scathing about Gunner’s plans. I knew he ignored boundaries and struggled to recognize when he went too far.

“No,” he sounded pissed that I even asked. “Why would I hurt Riley? She’s a nice girl.”

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