Page 9 of Hunt

I gave Ronan strict instructions to act normal but not to touch her until we knew who she was. That meant no fucking the geek girl until we know for sure. I trusted Ronan to obey my orders, but I wasn’t sure about Gunner, who was a law unto himself.

“Gunner believes this girl, Riley, might be Annika,” I stated slowly, and his eyes gaped in surprise. “She looks different, so we’re going with Gunner’s instinctive hunch, which is why I hadn’t said anything to you earlier.”

“So, this officer from Larsson paid a special visit to this girl,” he said, pointing his thumb behind him toward the sound of the trolley coming down the hall.

“Yes,” I replied dryly, just as the trolley stopped, followed by a nervous knock on my door. “Enter.” I liked nothing more than a lying little doe serving me my meal. I’d typically ask her to leave my meal tray in the hallway because I had no interest in her entering my office. But that was before the revealing conversation with Gunner and Ronan.

It’s time for some fun.

Her sweet face was filled with terror as she glanced into my office. She then lowered her head shyly and fiddled with her glasses. I looked at her properly for the first time since she’d been serving me. With shaking hands, she was about to bend over to place the tray on the floor, which was the usual routine, but I stopped her by raising my hand.

“Bring it directly to me,” I demanded as Danny snatched up the pic of the Larsson officer and stepped out of the way.

She swallowed, looking terrified as her knuckles turned white from gripping that tray tightly. I took a strong pull of my cigar, enjoying the terror that I was provoking in her.

“Here,” I pointed to my desk, forcing her to step inside my lair and move in to me so I could look closer at her face. I vaguely remembered Annika, the girl who seemed to bring so much happiness to the Kaiser family, particularly Gunner, when she was young. She grew into a pretty young woman with thick blond hair, but I ignored her most of the time, so I doubt I would recognize her if I saw her today.

As Riley moved closer, I stared at her face to find something I recognized. Her hair was chocolate brown, and her eyes, behind glasses, were green, but those features were easy to change. I honestly couldn’t see Annika in her, but maybe that’s because the only feature I noticed was her thick blond hair, which she sometimes wore in a swinging ponytail. I mostly remembered how Gunner’s face lit up whenever she smiled at him. Allowing a woman to hold power over a man like that showed a weakness in Gunner, not a strength.

She became his world, a dangerous position for a man to put himself in. I had never allowed a woman to get under my skin like I’d seen Annika get under Gunner’s. But he was young, then. I could use his youth as an excuse, but he was older now, a man, yet he was still obsessed over that plain thing holding the dinner tray.

“Thank you, Danny,” I called after him as he sneaked out of the door, and I was left alone with the little liar.

The little liar placed the tray on the desk and cleared her throat, “Would you like a drink, Mr…Mr…?”

“Kaiser,” I educated her sternly, although I was sure she’d already know, since I fucking own this place. But, then again, Betty told me that the staff fondly referred to me as The Boss, which I was also okay with.

She swallowed again, and her left eye twitched as if she wanted nothing more than to escape my snare. “Mr. Kaiser, would you like a drink?”

“Yes, but first, I want you to place my tray here,” I said, pointing to the place on the desk before me. She placed it two feet away, so I’d have to lean forward to reach it.

With trembling hands, she stumbled backwards, pupils dilated in fear, and slipped her fingers under the tray to pick it up. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kaiser.”

She sidled in next to me as her arm grazed the side of my head, apologized, stuttered, hesitated, and placed the tray directly in front of me. My nostrils flared as a sweet floral scent rose above the musky cigar smoke, and my crotch flinched.

Annoyed that little liar did that to me, I flicked my hand for her to leave, and she almost ran to the door, until, “Wait.” I stopped her, and she turned back, eyes dropped to the floor, trembling hands cupped together. “Pour me a whiskey.”

“Sure, sir, which whiskey brand would you like?” she asked as cigar smoke clouded her frame, turning that complexion ghost-like.

“That one,” I snarled, pointing to the glass cabinet that contained several bottles of expensive scotch whiskey and crystal tumblers. “The bottle on the silver tray. Pour me a glass.”

“Sure, Mr. Kaiser,” she shuffled nervously on her feet before she stepped toward the glass cabinet, wrapped her small, trembling hand around the neck of the bottle, and unscrewed the lid.

The weight of my gaze upon her wasn’t helping those nerves, but I didn’t care. I decided I would have some fun with her because she owed me. She betrayed my trust by using a fake ID, and if my Uncle Lars Kaiser were still alive, he’d turf her out onto the pavement without hesitation.

She needed two hands to pour the liquor as if it was too awkward and heavy for her, and I almost snatched it from her grasp for fear she might drop and smash that expensive birthday present. Instead, she managed to control the pour and filled the glass two-thirds before clumsily slamming the bottle down before it slipped from her grasp.

“Sorry,” she apologized as her cheeks burned red and struggled to screw the cap back on because her hands were trembling so much.

“Leave that and bring my drink here,” I growled in frustration at her because her fearful reaction to my temper drew sympathy out of me, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to feel sorry for her, yet I did. That furrowed brow and terror sweeping across those eyes and shaking hands stirred compassion within me. But it turned me on, too, especially since she smelled so nice.

I took a strong pull of my cigar to cool my jets, then blew the smoke out as she placed the glass in front of me. Then, dithered, “Would you like anything else, Mr. Kaiser?”

“Take the cover off,” I instructed her, and she stepped forward to take the cover off my plate of food. Her hair was tied up, and the ponytail fell around her shoulder as she leaned over my lap to remove the cover. I caught another whiff of her scent.

She coughed from the cigar smoke as she stepped back and waved the smoke away. I looked her up and down and liked what I was looking at, but hated that I liked what I was looking at.

“How old are you?” I shot bluntly as she shuffled closer to the door.

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