Page 60 of Prey

Pointing my thumb at the girls, I said, “Organize the van to take them to the rehab. I don’t want to see them again until they’re clean.”

“No problem,” he replied and bustled off to the table as I approached the bar. The redhead lowered her eyes and stepped away.

“You,” I pointed in front of me. “Move.”

She stepped before me, still cleaning that drinking glass, her blue eyes darting about anxiously. The redhead was older and more mature than the young girl with tracks up her arms, and her work ethic was exemplary. I didn’t need to talk to the staff or know their name to notice who was studious and reliable and who wasn’t.

It was all in their posture, and the way they carried pride on their backs because it was a fucking privilege to work in this exclusive club, and most of the staff knew this. Others were a little slow to catch on and either needed to leave or change their attitude.

“You’re taking an interest in what we’re discussing over there,” I pointed out. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“He waits outside their buildings,” she confessed quietly. “I live near two of those girls, and I see him and other men get them hooked on drugs and alcohol, then pimp them out. But they lure them first by being nice, buying them drinks, and pretending to care for their needs.”

“Merk?”

She nodded. “There’s a whole syndicate. Those girls come from broken homes and desperately want someone to cling to, which makes them easy prey.”

“Do you know where Merk lives?” I persisted, eager to put this right because Freddie and Betty wouldn’t have hired the girls if they failed the mandatory drug test. So, they got hooked while working here, which annoyed me even more.

She opened her mouth to answer, froze, and dropped her eyes when someone approached the bar. Ronan. He acknowledgedme with a nod, then glanced between me and the redhead, realizing that he interrupted a conversation.

“You’re late,” I pointed out as if he didn’t already know.

“Got held up,” he replied, giving nothing away.

“Why is your hair wet?”

“I got caught up in the rain,” he replied, “and I had to go back to the apartment to shower and change my clothes.”

“It’s raining outside? I hadn’t noticed,” I mumbled, then turned back to the redhead, distancing herself from me. “Where can I find Merk?”

She swallowed and glanced at Ronan again. “I don’t know exactly where he lives, but they hang out down Twenty-first Street outside the women’s shelter to lure their prey.”

“Thanks,” I appreciated her honesty but was aware that she had put her neck on the line by doing that. Even though no one overheard the conversation, plenty of people saw us speaking just after I pulled the girls off the stage. Someone with half a brain could put two and two together and figure it out, which was a problem for me. Are there enemies in the midst, right under my nose, who push drugs onto my staff?

“What’s going on?” Ronan frowned, turning toward me.

“You heard of Merk?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Great upstanding guy,” he was being sarcastic. “Dregs from the Ivanovs.”

“He used to work for the Russians?” I muttered as it was starting to paint a picture.

He cocked his eyebrows and glanced about to make sure the coast was clear. “Before you bought them out.”

“He’s pushing drugs onto my staff,” I told him. “Were you aware?”

“I flushed out a few and sent them to rehab on the tab, but once they’re clean, most return to streets under the thumb of theirpusher,” he explained. “If they don’t have good homes to return to, then we’ve lost them.”

“Yeah, well, our priority is to keep the club clean, but…” I paused to consider it, and Ronan knew what I was thinking.

“I can organize a friendly visit if you want?” he suggested, and I glanced back at the table where the pale, bony girls with dead eyes were sitting.

“The problem is that once you pop, one another takes his place,” I was conflicted, but when they messed with my business, lying back and doing nothing was not in my nature.

Ronan surveyed me closely, waiting for a sign of direction. I knew if I did this, it might open a can of worms, and since I just got out of prison, I wasn’t too keen to give the police another opportunity to arrest me. But there was a serious problem on the streets of Gothenburg. Three years gone, and I’d noticed a change for the worse. Maybe it was the cost of living and general depression in attitudes, or perhaps it was caused by a hole left when the Russians absconded. Probably both.

I finally nodded to Ronan, giving him the go-ahead. “Make it squeaky.”

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