Page 67 of Prey

“Looks like it, but the target has tentacles,” I reminded him, which meant there might be retaliation if they found out who was behind his death.

“The Russians,” Mikky stated dryly with a hint of repulsion on his face, or maybe the steak tasted like shit. The Kaisers weren’t fans of the Pols either, but some of our best and most loyal workers were Polish, including Z, so they managed to overlook their dislike of an entire group of people.

I shrugged indifferently. “At least one problem was solved for now.”

I retreated to my office with Petra Black on my mind as I cut my steak and read through an assignment, although my concentration was poor, knowing that Selkie was downstairs only a short walk away.

She’d gone from a shy, sweet thing to spitting venom, and all that had happened between sweetness and venom was me fucking her in the pool. Best fuck ever. Wet, cool skin, the rain fell on our parade, damping our clothes and my mood. Maybe she sensed my mood turning sour. It wasn’t because of her, though. I was trying to figure out our future interlopes without Mikky knowing. Mikky was everywhere. He had loyal eyes and ears everywhere, and no matter how much someone tried to hide something, he would find out about it. Whether it was Betty, Freddie, or one of the wait staff, someone would spill, and then what would happen to me?

Mikky would have a fucking meltdown if he found out I fucked the staff. But I didn’t want to stop fucking her, so how do I organize more of this without anyone knowing? Petra pushing me away and getting cranky was not a big enough deterrent to stop me from pursuing my selkie. She crawled under my skin the first time I saw her stripping off her clothes and frolicking in the pool in her private heaven.

I wouldn’t let her go that easily, whether she liked it or not. It was all about logistics, keeping below the radar, and devising a methodical plan we could follow rather than giving up on her.

Betty's message on my work phone indicated that a man was downstairs wanting to speak to me, and I replied that I’d be down in ten minutes. I knew who it was. Danny Lam, the PI, contacted me yesterday to speak about Lars Kaiser’s death. I didn’t have a lot to offer the investigation because I was at the club in Larsson when he was shot, but whatever I could do to help find the killer, I’ll do it.

While thinking about it, I messaged Gunner, asking if he called his mom yet. Mikky had been on his back about it, too, so a lot of pain could have been avoided if Gunner had called her to catch up and ask whether she went out the night Lars was shot. She initially said she didn’t go out, then backtracked and said she did for an hour to pick up takeout. Finding out why she lied rather than the story itself was imperative.

Gunner: No.

Me: Get on with it.

After I finished my meal, I wiped my mouth with my napkin and placed the plate on the tray to return to the kitchen rather than having Betty pick it up. This will give me the opportunity to see Petra Black, or whatever her real name is.

Danny Lam was leaning against the wall at the foot of the stairs, and I told him I’d be there in two seconds. Unfortunately, my selkie wasn’t lying when she said they had a full house. All hands were on deck, staff bustling about in the kitchen, and I could hear the ching-ching of the cash register in my head. The dining table was full of the usual suspects, dressed in tuxedos and formal gowns. Good.

“Excuse me. You’re in the way,” Petra spat behind me, and I stepped aside, catching the look of one of the cook's embarrassed looks that Petra dared speak to me that way. I’ll let her get away with it this time, but…

I stepped to the bench where she worked, running water over the dishes to put them in the commercial dishwasher. “I can’t talk to you,” she snarled under her breath so no one could hear.

“Why?” I assumed it was because she was busy, but I felt there was another reason, something I was missing.

“Go away,” she snarled quietly again, glancing to see if anyone noticed.

“Okay. Have I screwed up? Because you should let me know what that was?” I stated, keeping my voice low, but I was attracting attention anyway because of who I was.

“No,” she sighed, almost exhaustedly, then leaned in and said. “You need to stay away from me. He’s dangerous.”

“Who?” I frowned. No one was more dangerous than me.

She glanced behind her again for fear someone would hear. “Rourke.”

“Rourke?” She mentioned some guy who might get angry if he found out I fucked his girl. Not something that would ever keep me up at night. “Tell him where I am, and we’ll have a little chat.”

“A chat?” she looked horrified, eyes gaping behind glasses. “Achat.”

“Yes, a chat. You know…” I did a yapping mouth-hand puppet, but she didn’t find it funny. This high-stress environment sucked out her good nature.

“Are we done?” she flared her nostrils, turning away.

“I don’t know. Are we?” I questioned with a smirk on my face. I was starting to enjoy her grumpy side.

She growled, and I let her cool her temper as I left the busy kitchen to speak to the PI about that night three years ago. The closer I moved toward him, the darker my mood became after my little kitchen liaison with the selkie.

I shook Danny Lam’s hand and asked him to follow me upstairs to my office. Once seated, I offered him a coffee or something more potent, and he declined both.

“I’ve only got a couple of questions,” he stated, taking out his notebook and sharpened pencil, old school sleuth. “Do you remember if Mr. Lars Kaiser had any enemies or received threats?”

“No.” Indeed, he knew what type of people we were. “Not many people be stupid enough to threaten the Kaisers. Larsson and surrounding cities are our territory. We are virtually untestedin Larsson and here in Gothenburg, too. If anyone were going to threaten Mr. Kaiser or his family, they’d meet a short, sharp shock.”

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