“Wait. Can you let me out? I’d rather walk back to my dorm,” I pleaded. “Please. I need some fresh air.”
Bitchtective thought about it for several beats before unlocking my door. “Fine. But before you go, remember that you will have some information to give me the next time we meet.”
“And if I don’t?” I was wondering how far I could get away with playing dumb.
Her nostrils flared in annoyance. “We’ll pay Liam and his parents a visit and maybe uplift him from that loving family to be placed back into foster care since that adoption was done illegally.”
“You would take a little boy away from loving parents just because you want some information on the so-called mafia,” I growled at her angrily.
All I could think about was purchasing a gun. I already knew how to use one because Gunner taught me when we were teenagers. Even though it’s been three years since I had fired a weapon, I was sure it was like riding a bike. I might be a little rusty, but it’ll come back to me like clockwork.
“Just do as we ordered, Annika,” she stated cooly as the door was unlocked, and I climbed out.
“Do I have a choice?” I groaned and was about to slam the door shut when she yelled, “Don’t forget the box.”
Dithering for a second, fearful they were going to change their minds and drag me back inside the suffocating vehicle, I finally succumbed and seized the box. Her hand firmly claimed my forearm as she brushed back her jacket to show me the Glock resting in her belt.
“Don’t do anything stupid, will you, Annika?” she hissed slowly as I wrangled her hand off me and pulled away.
As soon as I was free from their venomous snare, my feet pounded the ground, starting with a brisk walk, falling quickly into a jog, and then a run. My heart pounded hard against my chest, breath heavy, thighs strong, and I didn’t stop running until I reached the foot of Hallen Hall.
9
IIt’s been a while since I had the succulent lips of a good woman around my cock, and I was tempted to contact the local brothel. My phone with all the numbers of my favorite girls was seized when I was arrested, and when they returned it, the SIM card was absent, probably still in an evidence bag or inspected by forensics.
They couldn’t find incriminating evidence on my phone because I wasn’t that fucking stupid and careless to use my leading phones to organize jobs. But the evidence they wanted didn’t exist. Evidence that pinned me as the one who organized Lars Kaiser's execution. Why the fuck would have him killed? He was not only my uncle but my closest friend. But it was never about the truth. It was always about destroying the Kaiser chapter in Larsson, and they’d do whatever it took to do that.
Freddie knocked on my open door, and I asked him to enter. It was just after 10 AM, and I was upstairs alone, as Ronan should be in class at Gotland and wouldn’t start his shift until midafternoon. This was my favorite time in the club, before the serving staff arrived and before the members turned up to offload their cash.
“Shut the door,” I told him, as I didn’t want anyone floating around to overhear this conversation. “I need a girl.”
His eyebrows cocked at my brutal honesty, cutting to the chase because it’s been far too long since I’d fucked a girl since I was in that fucking prison for three years. After a while, I learned to tame that energy into exercise: push-ups and squats in my cell or running in the exercise yard.
“A girl?” he needed clarification.
“Not staff or a dance girl. Someone who has nothing to do with the club,” I explained. “For tonight.”
“I can organize someone for you, Mikky. No problem. Do you have a preference? Blond or brunette. Asian or Latino. Slim or curvy,” he was asking the right questions, but I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I hadn’t thought about hair color and ass size, so I was a little taken aback.
“Brunette,” I told him, then the girl with glasses entered my mind, and I changed my mind, “Redhead. Send me a redhead. A real redhead.”
The girl that Ronan and my nephew lost their fucking minds over would soften my cock, not harden it. Seriously, they needed to sort their heads out, forget her, and find a girl from college. There must be a thousand hot girls willing to spread their legs for a Kaiser.
“No problem,” he replied smoothly. “Would you like me to bring her up here? Or somewhere more discreet.”
I thought about it for a moment. I didn’t want her coming to my apartment, and I didn't want to be seen with her here either. “Book me a night in a hotel room. Somewhere nice, but not too nice.”
“Absolutely, Mikky,” he said with a smile. “Would you like me to organize beverages and finger food as well? Wine? Red or white. Perhaps something harder?”
I was relieved he asked because it’s been a while since I’d been on a date with a woman, and I’d become rusty. My priority was the fucking, and I had forgotten about the foreplay and conversation that one had to endure before getting between her legs. But this was whore. I couldn’t care less about her feelings.
My finger tapped persistently on my desk as the rhythm reflected my growing irritation at this liaison turning into a big fucking deal. “I want her classy, clean, and smelling great,” I instructed, holding back my impatience. “But a classy whore is still a whore. Wine, but nothing special, and finger food, but nothing too fancy.”
“Sure,” he replied. “Anything else, Mik-
A scream belted out down the hall, and my heart almost exploded in fright. “Mr. Gale. Mr. Gale,” the female bellowed down the hall, and I propelled to my feet and followed Freddie to the door.
Poking my head out the door, I found one of our cleaners panicking, then apologizing for daring to break the rules and come up here to the office area without permission. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kaiser and Mr. Gale, but we have a problem downstairs. It’s an emergency.” Her ruddy hands were shaking, and her eyes were the size of saucers.