Page 10 of Hunt

She swallowed and licked her bottom lip. Swallowing often was a sign of nervousness, probably because her mouth had dried up. Again, this was due to nervousness, but the hesitation helped her consider her lying answer.

“Twenty-one,” she finally answered after she thought about it.

I narrowed my eyes at her briefly before stubbing out the butt of my cigar between my fingers. As my hand reached for the salt shaker, she turned to walk to the door. “I didn’t say you could leave.”

She stalled and turned to face me, and this time, I detected a hint of irritation rather than fear. “I have to get back to the kitchen.”

“They can wait,” I told her. “I’m going to ask you again...”

She swallowed again, then pushed her glasses against her face with her middle finger, giving me the birdie unintentionally—or maybe it was intentional. Huh. Interesting. “Ask me what?” She had an attitude with her answer this time, so that middle finger might be intentional after all.

“How old are you?” I repeated sternly making it clear I didn’t want to fuck around.

She cleared her throat. “I told you. Twenty-one.”

I sighed, picked up the pepper shaker, and sprinkled that over my meal of marinated loin lamb chops and baby vegetables. I stretched my neck, so it clicked, then eyeballed her again. “I’m going to ask one more time. How old are you?”

Her eyes twitched as she laced her fingers together to stop them from shaking. “Twenty-one.”

“You used a fake ID, Petra,” I pointed out that I was onto her, but kept my tone even. “So I’m going to ask you for the last time. How old are you?”

Her chest rose as she inhaled, then exhaled slowly as I could see her brain working overtime, deciding whether she should tell me the truth. “Twenty.”

“Twenty?” I challenged because I wasn’t sure if that was true either.

“Yes.”

“So, you came into a Kaiser club using a fake ID? Why?” I was curious to see if her reason was related to the officer she was talking to. But she was unlikely to tell me that until I put the pressure on.

“Yes,” she replied as her shoulders relaxed.

“See, speaking the truth sets you free,” I stated flatly.

Disappointment washed over her face. “Free? Does that mean you want me to leave?”

“You’re breaking the rules,” I pointed out. “And we have stringent rules here.”

She nodded slowly as she inched toward the door. “I’ll empty my locker and leave then,” she succumbed, placing a delicate hand on the door handle.

“What is your real name?” I demanded to know.

“Riley,” she said in a small voice.

“Surname?” I pressed sternly.

“Laws. I’m a student at Gotland,” she added. “And I really needed a job.”

I leaned back in my chair, scrutinizing her. Even though I had no intention of letting her go, because Gunner was sure she was Annika, and if this cop had something to do with a little trap they were setting, then I’d like to keep my eye on her.

“This is what we’re going to do,” I said, picking up a chop between my fingers as she dallied by the door. I took a bite, and the meat was soft like butter. We paid our chefs well. “I’m giving you a verbal warning that if you breach the club rules again, you’ll be instantly dismissed.”

She nodded and quietly said, “Thank you.” But it wasn't easy to tell if she wanted to stay. If she were working under my iron fist, she might reconsider. “You’ll go down to Betty and update her with your correct details. Correct name, birthdate, address, etcetera, we’ll keep you on for now. Deal?”

“Yes,” she sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

She hesitated for a few seconds before I realized she was waiting for me to forbid her from leaving. I flicked my hand at her dismissively. “You can go now, and I’ll call Betty to tell her you’re coming to see her.”

“Thank you,” she said again and slipped away, closing the door quietly behind her.

---