Page 25 of Hunt

Visiting prostitutes was never to my taste. Perhaps I was a romantic at heart and believed in love, which became a problem when the only girl I liked was a suspect. It was a weird sensation, both exhilarating and frustrating, to be so attracted to a girl whom we were forbidden to touch. But then Mikky contradicted himself by saying that we had to act as usual, which meant continuing to kiss and fuck her. Nothing raises alarm bells more than virulent young men refusing to touch a girl they’d had their hands all over only a week ago.

Several beats of intense silence passed as Mikky contained his fury before he said, “Interesting coincidence, isn’t it?”

I nodded slowly as his mood was dark and sinister, almost suffocating.

“The Russians show up outside of your apartment building, then we have a rat infestation, and then,” he pointed his finger to the ceiling, “ol’ Mr. Yarmouth shit his pants tied to a fucking bed waiting to have his cherry popped by a girl called Champagne.”

“Blindfolded and gagged, so they didn’t want to seen-”

“That could be his kink anyway,” he argued.

“I reckon they took pics and you know the rest,” I suggested and he cocked his eyebrows.

“Nothing surprises me anymore,” he cleared his throat.

Betty’s distinctive footsteps came striding down the hall, and it was a relief that her shift had started, allowing her to sort out the dramas unfolding. Her dark, pristine head poked into the office. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Rat farming,” Mikky quipped, trying to see the humor in it.

“Was this a targeted attack?” Betty was not stupid. “Because we’ve got the FSIS downstairs.”

I was dejected when I glanced at Mikky, who seemed slightly confused. He glanced at me, reading the disenchanted expression on my face. “Remind me who they are?” he frowned, his dark eyes flicking from me to Betty.

“Food inspector,” she educated him.

“How did they find out?” I asked as Mikky’s mood turned darker by the second, and Betty noticed. Mikky was in a lousy mood, which made for an uncomfortable atmosphere.

Betty shrugged and carefully replied, “Someone called it in.”

In silence, Mikky pushed his chair and strode to the safe behind the naked lady painting, unlocking it as we watched him, waiting for directions.

He took a thick wad of cash from the safe and tossed it on his desk. “See, what it’ll take to make this go away,” he instructed, and we knew exactly what he meant. Money talks, and money also shuts people up.

I returned to my office, and Betty took the wad of cash to charm the inspector into giving us a break. Reflecting on the Russians in the mint BMW, I knew trouble would return when they had plenty of backing and power to fight us. They want the club back and their territory restored.

My finger tapped on my desk in irritation, curious that they had waited until Mikky was out of prison before attacking, when it would have been easier to start a war while he was inside. Maybe it was a coincidence or perhaps I poked he bear when I ordered the assignation of one of their pimps and dealers. Huh, plenty more bullets to spray at useless scums.

I say, if they wanted a war, bring it on.

Finding the message again from the ‘unknown’, I replied…

Me: What do u want?

11

Acting normal when the world was disintegrating before me was something I was an expert at. Or, to be accurate, acting normally in my disguise, which was not acting normally at all, but just acting. After running away from the Bitchtective back to my dorm, I cooled my jets, returned to my room, grabbed my books, and headed to my marine biology class. Like normal. Like the Larsson Police Department didn’t threaten me to snoop on murderous criminals, and like I wasn’t stalked by Gunner Kaiser, the one I was supposed to stalk back. Acting normal.

My head hurts.

Cheetos sat opposite me in the Science Library after class. Her extreme fear of crowds or classrooms prevented her from attending, and so she copied off my notes. I was so proud of how normal I acted, being the good little student by day and a devious spy by night, forced to risk my life to gather a piece of information for Bitchtective to hang Mikael Kaiser.

The sooner I was out of Gothenburg, the better.

A notification flashed on my phone, and I tensed, considering that only a handful of people had my number and Bitchtective stashed a bug on it. Cheetos, Katerine, watched me closely as I checked my messages to find, to my surprise, that it was a group email from Betty: Savile Gentleman’s Club.

“Everything okay?” Cheetos asked, reading my perplexed expression.

“It looks like I won’t be working tonight,” I announced, uneasy. “The club is closed for the night.”

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