Page 47 of Hunt

“Um,” I stepped closer, feeling embarrassed as my thigh pressed against his leg.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he ordered, and I thought I was mistaken. What did he ask me to do?

“I’m sorry?” I asked to clarify, a little stunned, but still shaking nervously.

He pointed to the floor. “Hands and knees.”

I lowered my body to my knees as those dark eyes narrowed in amusement and cruelty. Then I leaned forward, placing my hands on the floor on all fours. Seconds passed, and he did and said nothing, as all I could see at this level were his shins and large hands resting on his lap.

This was weird, and I couldn’t understand why he asked me to come up there specifically to get on hands and knees for him. Is this how powerful men intimidate and humiliate women? Whatever. The more he tormented me, the more driven I was to find damming evidence against him so that I could see my freedom.

The sound of fabric brushing made me quiver, stifling a gasp of horror, and I dared not look at what his hands were doing. Then he lifted a leg and rested his foot on my back, and I turned my head when flapping fabric caught my eye to find that it was a handkerchief. He then rubbed the shoe that was on my back with the handkerchief. Shined his fucking shoe on my back.

Once satisfied, he took his foot off my back, placed it on the floor, and flicked his finger at me to get up and stand behind the desk. Again, he dragged it out before, arranged the papers on his desk, took a swig of his whiskey, inhaled his cigar, and just when I was about to lose my faith in life, he said, “We’ve had some interesting occurrences here recently.”

I nodded, wondering what he was discussing and not interested in explaining. Not that I care because the man just treated me like a workhorse. Right now, I hate him.

He pointed his finger at the wall and added, “Mr. Byrne said that you would be a good fit for a new role in the club.”

“What sort of role?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t ask me to dance, because I had two left feet and was not particularly sexy like those beautiful cheeky dancers on the stage. I was also underage, so I couldn’t serve behind the bar.

“It’s a…how shall I say, a role of a delicate matter,” he raked his eyes over me again, making me feel naked. “We need someone to be our eyes and ears on the floor and take notes of certain conversations.”

“You want me to be a spy?” I asked as he spoke in riddles, so I needed him to use blunt language. “On the floor and in the kitchen?”

“Yes.” He sucked on his sweet-smelling cigar again and took another sip of his whiskey. “Since you lied to me about your age and used a fake ID to slither your way into my precious club, you would need to prove your worth and regain our trust by working on a small project.”

This could be interesting, especially if this project of spying would get me closer to unlocking his safe and planting cameras under his desk.

“We have an enemy in the midst,” he continued, “and I want you to find out who is plotting against us.”

I swallowed, cleared my throat to speak clearly, and didn’t sound nervous. “Does this have something to do with you being closed last night?”

He nodded slowly while his eyes were filled with doubt, as if he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to assign this job to me. “We need to find the rot in the system and remove it. So, your new role will be to listen to the staff's conversations, and if anyone acts suspiciously or makes traitorous statements, report them back to Ronan or me. Do you understand?”

I nodded as my head swirled with thoughts and feelings that I’d betray the good people I work with. “Will I be paid more in this new role?” I challenged him because I was putting myself at risk.

He watched me closely, tilting his dark head back as if he wanted to see me from a different angle. Initially, I thought he was angry with my gall, until a smile stretched across his handsome face and his eyes twinkled in pride. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll arrange a little extra on the side, and if you find some relevant dirt, we’ll give more.”

“Thank you,” I sighed. I was getting closer to achieving my goal of buying a car, and once I got one, I could flee from this godforsaken town.

He flicked that finger to the door, “You can go now.”

“Just one more thing…” I held my stance. “Does anyone else know what I’m doing? I mean…does Betty know?”

He shook his head. “The only people in on this are you, Ronan, me…oh, and Gunner, but he’s in another reality.” He revealed hints of his dangerous side, reminding me who he was. “So, you’ll keep it between the three of us, won’t you?”

A shiver snaked down my spine as I swallowed over a lump in my throat. He terrified me. He always terrified me. This man before me was my enemy; I'd be ten feet under if he knew who I was. But Bitchtective didn’t care about the potential harm she was causing me; all she cared about was putting him back in prison.

“I was asking to know who to trust and who my confidants are,” I added to show that I was thinking ahead.

“Trust no one, Riley. Trust no one. And you answer only to me and Ronan. Do you understand?” That tone told me everything I needed to know. Don’t mess with the Kaisers.

“Yes, I understand,” I replied gently as I turned my back and left the sweltering intensity of his office.

Trust no one.

Did he also mean not to trust him because I didn’t? As I trotted down the stairs, eager to return to work, the image of him shining a shoe on my back flicked about as my cheeks burned. I couldn’t believe he shined his fucking shoe on my back. What an asshole.

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