Page 4 of Capture
I followed Gunner down the stairs, while he turned a sharp left when we landed on the club floor, and I opened the doors to head down the hallway toward the kitchen. Pupils dilated at the sight of the boss, in no mood for a friendly chat, and as soon as I saw Betty’s deadly straight hair and scarlet lipstick, I beckoned her to come closer.
“I need a spare plate of food,” I told her. “Now.”
“Oh,” she scanned the kitchen, frowning in confusion. “Your meals should be brought up soon.” She caught the attention of one of the kitchen staff members. “Where is Riley?”
“She doesn’t work here anymore,” I sternly informed her. “I’ll take my meal now.”
She hesitated as if she was about to ask what happened, but she wisely changed her mind and focused on arranging a plate of food for me. Crumbed chicken breast and roast baby vegetables. Fine. Whatever. I was sure she'd eat whatever I served her if the little liar was hungry enough. Best food in the city, yet she deserved canned cold spaghetti.
It took about five minutes before a silver tray with a covered plate was handed to me, and while I waited, I carefully watched the interactions with the kitchen staff. We still had to flush out the traitors amongst us, and the liar upstairs, professing to overhear a conversation, rattled about in my mind.
With the tray in my grasp, I briskly walked back where I came and then turned down the back corridor, leading to the lounge rooms on the ground floor. An elderly gentleman was waiting in one of the rooms, resting his wooden cane against the chair, and I forced a smile on my face to greet him.
He was waiting for a girl or business associates to join him. Many business deals were done in these private rooms before heading out to the bar or upstairs to see their favorite girl.
Balancing the tray with one hand, I found the secret switch, and the bookcase slid open. Greeted by floral perfume and cleaning products, I walked up the stairs to find Gunner sitting on the floor, scrolling on his phone, looking glum.
“Is she behaving?” I asked him.
“She’s quiet,” he told me. “Do you want me to go in with you?”
“No,” I said as flirtatious giggles flooded the empty spaces. “Someone in there?” I pointed at the room where the giggles seemed to be coming from.
He nodded. “They’ve already climaxed, so they’ll probably be coming out in a few minutes,” he said flatly, pointing to his ear. “Loud.”
I suppressed my smile as I unlocked the little liar’s door, swung it open with a squeak, and was greeted with a piercing squeal. “Don’t you know how to knock?” she fumed at me.
It seemed I caught her changing. She was wearing nothing but a bra and panties, and scrambled to put clothes on. My cock twitched, and I took a deep breath to calm my shit. Fuck I needed to bang a whore. Like, immediately. Any whore would do, even a cheap, ugly one, because I can’t see an ugly face in the dark.
“Turn around,” she screamed as if she’d forgotten who I was.
“You’re our captive,” I reminded her, as I reluctantly turned my back on her, annoyed that Gunner and Ronan had seen her naked, yet she didn’t want me to see her in her underwear. Dimples covered the back of her thighs, and her panties were rising her ample butt cheeks that my hands longed to squeeze. As I stared at the wall while the sound of brushing fabric filled the air, all I could think about was sinking my teeth into those wiggling butt cheeks.
“What is that supposed to mean? I’m your captive, so that means you can walk in anytime without my consent,” she railed angrily.
“Yes, it does mean that. And you lost your consent when you decided to fuck us over. Consent requires respect.” I educated her, realizing I was obeying her wishes by turning my back, so I was hardly enforcing my authority.
“It isn’t hard to respect someone’s privacy,” she hissed, and my mouth stretched into a smile. The little liar is a fiery minx. I could have fun with her.
“You think I haven’t seen a girl in her underwear before,” I snarled at her, suppressing my utter joy at stumbling in on her half-naked.
“I’m sure you have,” she snapped. “I’m sure you have many girls on demand, but I’m not one of them, am I?” There was an exhausted exhale before she announced. “You can turn around now.”
“Lucky me,” I mumbled, turning back to look at her, and to my disappointment, she was wearing baggy sweatpants and a pink hooded sweatshirt, just as baggy, so it was impossible to trace her curves.
“Your dinner,” I told her, then placed the tray on the edge of the bed.
She flicked me a peculiar look as she raised her chin proudly into the air. “You try it first,” she insisted.
“The food? You want me to try the food?” I asked, a little confused.
“Yes.” She folded her arms defiantly across her chest. “I want it checked so you haven’t poisoned me.”
“You wantme,” I pointed to my chest, “to beyourcupbearer?”
“Yes,” she said, flaring her nostrils. “I’m not eating it until you do, which means I will starve to death imprisoned in this shithole.”
“And? You think I care if you starve?” I stressed, flinched slightly when guilt fluttered in my chest. What was it about her that got me so riled up? “The police planted you to spy on us. You’re about as much worth as a slug.”
