Page 24 of Hunt

She sighed in relief, and it seemed genuine. “Thank goodness. He didn’t turn up, so I was worried.”

“Turn up? When?” I questioned as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

“Last night,” she answered anxiously. “Thursday. Mr. Yarmouth is my Thursday, every Thursday without fail.”

“Well…it turned out he was already there,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair and watching her body language. “Handcuffed to a bed and in great distress.”

“Is he okay?” she asked, genuinely concerned. It seemed she was quite fond of the old guy.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Just shaken up. But he swore it was you who handcuffed, blindfolded, and gagged him. It was your name he used,” I explained as those furrow lines deepened even more.

“But it wasn’t me. “ I couldn’t have been, because he didn’t show up,” she pointed out.

“Were all the rooms in use last night?” I asked her since I didn’t oversee that side of the business. It was better to stay detached from it. In other words, the less I knew, the better, provided nothing was happening that could tarnish the club's reputation.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I was waiting in the lounge room for Mr. Yarmouth, so I wasn’t sure who was up there.”

“You didn’t go up at all?” I questioned her, knowing she couldn’t go up without one of us unlocking it.

“Not last night,” she replied. “There was no point because the only client I had booked in was Mr. Yarmouth, and we always met in the front lounge room on the right.” Her trembling, pale fingers opened her small carry bag and took out her phone. “Would you like to see my schedule?”

I flicked my hand, shaking my head. “No need.”

She looked cold and nervous and wrapped her faux tightly around her lean, long frame. “But someone was using my name?”

“It seems so,” I sighed, unsure if she was lying or not. Actually, I was sure she was telling the truth, but that meant a girl and a man with an accent snuck up to the room and handcuffed Mr. Yarmouth. Why? What was the point?

“Okay, thanks,” I nodded to the door. “You can go now.”

She hesitated before standing. “Did Mr. Yarmouth describe this girl?”

“We haven’t spoken to him properly yet as we were busy doing damage control, but we found him blindfolded, so I guess he was unable to see them,” I replied, shrugging, suppressing a cringe at the sight of that man naked and lying in his feces. “I’ll contact him later when he’s cooled down a little…if he wants to.”

She screwed her face up in confusion and dithered, still refusing to leave. “Do I still have a job?” she asked softly, her voice trembling with fear.

“Of course,” I asserted, “until we find proof that you did something wrong, you’re free to keep working here.”

A sigh of relief relaxed her body, and she thanked me several times before leaving.

“Wait,” I called after her, and her face dropped, turning back.

“Man with an accent, does that sound familiar to you?” I knew it was a stretch, as I had little information as to what kind of accent.

“Um, many men have accents,” she shrugged.

“Yeah, okay,” I resigned and waved her away as I combed my fingers through my hair, wondering how to fix this. Mr. Yarmouth might keep his mouth shut outside the club, but he could be a danger inside.

My hand mindlessly grabbed my phone to message Gunner when I remembered I had an unopened message from an unknown number. As soon as I read it, everything fell into place.

Them: Found him yet?

I didn’t need to know what or who the messenger was referring to, because it is evident that handcuffing Mr. Yarmouth was a setup. It wouldn’t surprise me that they took pictures as well to blackmail him and us. We could wipe our hands clean of this and allow Mr. Yarmouth to deal with it as his lawyers advised.

I swiped to call the number, but unsurprisingly, it was switched off. So, I walked to Mikky’s door and held up my phone. “It’s a setup,” I said.

“No kidding,” he snarled, reading the message, “the rats are too.”

“Champagne knew nothing. She said Mr. Yarmouth didn’t turn up for his regular Thursday appointment,” my stomach turned a little as I said this aloud, because I was a one-man woman. “Because he was tied up in the room, but she didn’t see who had done it.”

---