Page 28 of Hunt

Once inside and alone in front of the large mirror, I tilted my head forward, searching for blond streaks at my roots as my heart pounded. It didn’t take much to give the game away – a slip of the tongue, forgetting that I was shortsighted and needed glasses to read, remembering my name and where I came from, and scheduling my hair appointments every four weeks to cover the blond.

There was no blonde I could find, so I breathed a sigh of relief and headed back to my table.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, gazing at me as if I had grown horns out of my head.

“I’m feeling a little under the weather,” I lied. “I’m going back to my dorm and lie down.”

“Oh, okay,” she said in her flat, detached way.

I was relieved to be alone and walked back to my dorm, glancing around every so often for the Mustang or tattooed spy. When I didn’t see him, my heart sank. It’s been several hours since he followed me in Bitchtective’s unmarked vehicle, and he hadn’t approached or contacted me to find out why I was in that vehicle, or who they were. It seemed out of character for him, considering that he sent me Shaun’s bloody tooth.

Once back in my dorm room, I rechecked my hair before landing in a heap on my bed. It’s okay. My hair is brunette, and no blonde was coming through, but I should start wearing a cap.

I dragged my tired body off the bed and opened the top drawer, knowing I had a dark blue baseball cap stuffed inside one of them. But the first thing I saw was the small white box containing the tiny cameras that Bitchtective wanted me to plant in the Kaisers’ offices.

Shrugging off the heaviness boring down on my shoulders, I opened the lid and peered inside, taking out one small silver disc. Where had I seen one of these before? I scratched my head for a few moments, trying to remember seeing one of these somewhere without realizing what it was.

Well, I know one thing: I won’t be sticking these anywhere tonight, since the club is closed. I shut the lid and shoved it back into the drawer, then pulled the next drawer down and found my cap, which I dragged out and slapped on my head.

Staring at me in the mirror, I looked okay, maybe a try-hard jock girl or baseball groupie with glasses. This could be my new look. The Geek Girl Sports look, I laughed as I ripped it off my head and left it on top of my chest of drawers to remind me to wear it out tomorrow and get used to it.

I grabbed a fresh towel to shower as I tried to remember Cheetos' surname. She only said it once, and I didn’t make a mental note, but she seemed to resent the Kaisers. But how realistic was she? Talking tough to the faces of the Kaisers was asking for trouble, but I doubted she’d do that. All talk, no action.

Grabbing my key and robe, soap as a blast of screeching laughter came from the street below, and I swung back to look at the window when my eyes landed on a small silver disc stuck to the wall next to the curtain rail.

My heart slammed against my ribcage, but I kept my cool. Act normal. Act normal. It might not be what it seems.

I left the room and stepped into the bathroom down the hall, my head spinning as I wondered if it was a hidden camera, and if so, who had put it there?

Two people came to mind.

Bitchtective and Gunner.

12

T“He paid her a visit,” I told Ronan, speaking to him on the phone.

“How close did you get?” Ronan spoke as if he were clenching his jaw, as Mikky blurted out swear words loudly in the background. Shit must be going down.

“What’s going on?” I questioned because it’s rare for Mikky to lose his cool.

Ronan grunted. “Long story.” He hesitated a few beats before adding, “We’re getting targeted.”

“What? You got hit?” Assuming he was talking about a gun attack. “Drive-by?” Although even a drive-by shooting wouldn’t significantly impact the club because of its architectural design. The valuable areas of the club were in the hub of the building, away from the windows.

“Nah. Rats,” he replied bluntly. “We had to close the club.”

“Rats? What?” I assumed he meant people who caused problems for us. It must be bad if they closed the club.

“Long story. And ah…some weird shit with a valued member,” he sounded annoyed and impatient as if he wasn’t in the mood to go into great detail.

“Which member?” I was curious, as we go to great lengths to please our members, so it's rare for someone to be displeased.

“Mr. Yarmouth,” he sounded down in the dumps.

“Isn’t he the guy who makes kids’ toys?” I asked, vaguely remembering Ronan pointing him out to me once.

“Yeah, educational toys or something. We’ll sort it,” he raised his tone to sound more confident, even though I sensed he was worried. “Anyway, what happened with the cop and the girl?”

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