26
W
ere you followed?” Bitchtective snarled at me when I climbed inside her vehicle, which looked obviously like an unmarked police vehicle, so they’re hardly trying to look inconspicuous. But I didn’t care about them. I cared only about myself and my little brother, whom I hadn’t met and often wondered if he existed.
“No,” I exhaled exhaustively. She had sent me a message wanting to meet at 1 p.m., yet I was due in class, so not only was my education being affected, but my sanity and sense of security were as well.
“Are you being honest?” she proclaimed as her eyes scanned the scene through the window, possibly searching for anyone who seemed suspicious.
She didn’t entirely trust me with good reason, but if she felt that I was colluding with the other side, my enemies, the Kaiser, then she was sadly mistaken.
“Yes.” Actually, I wasn’t being honest because I didn’t take note of who was following me, and I didn’t care. I wanted to get this meeting over and done with so I could catch the last 30 minutes of my class.
“Have you planted the bugs yet?” I knew this would be the first question she’d ask, and I just hadn’t gotten around to it. It wasn’t an easy task to achieve.
“No,” I squirmed as she snapped the locks to warm me that there was no way out, unless I smashed the window, which was a possibility, since I was feeling so damn angry right now.
This lady, this bitchtective, needed to learn a lesson. The only problem was that she always brought the silent man with her, who did the driving, and oh, let’s forget she’s always armed.
What happened with Gunner last night? Something changed in him, and I didn’t like it. Was he offended that Ronan and I were together and then had sex in front of him? But that didn’t make sense either, because he seemed into it. A switch was flicked, an ominous cloud came over him, and he left without looking back.
“C’mon, Riley,” she stated, annoyed, clicking her fingers irritably at me. “Get on with it.”
“You have no idea how difficult it is to get into his office alone,” I argued, irately, not giving a shit that I might offend her. “He’s always there. He’s always there.”
“Make it work, Riley. We can’t muck around with this, alright,” she pointed out heatedly, then exhaled as if she was trying to calm her shit.
“I’m trying,” I screeched, louder than intended, irritated that I sounded like a silly little girl. We were parked in the same parking lot by the university gardens; the path was a shortcut to the dorms.
Naturally, I looked out for the black Mustang, but deep down inside, I knew he wouldn’t be lurking. Something changed last night, and his hunger for me dissipated through his disappointment in me. I missed him when he wasn’t around because his penetrating gaze from behind corners and masks became my comfort.
That was before I discovered Rourke. My stalker was Gunner Kaiser, and now that I knew who he was, I needed his attention even more. But it was important to keep a perspective. The Kaisers were my enemies. That will never change. There was no benefit in falling in love again with Gunner and no point in falling in love with the Kaiser's right-hand man, Ronan Byrne.
Either way I looked at it, I was screwed, which was why I had to have a defined plan. However, it was challenging to execute this plan without someone knowing.
“You need to try harder,” she barked. “Look, are you working tonight?”
“Yes,” I sighed as frustration stirred in my stomach, making me nauseous.
“Tonight is when you will plant those cameras. Do you understand?” she asserted brusquely. “No excuses. Got it.”
“I’ll try,” I resigned, even though I doubted it was possible.
“Who the hell is that?” she blasted. I glanced up to see who she was looking at, and it was Cheetos, probably walking back to her dorm. Except she was dithering under the canopy of hanging branches and didn’t seem to be going anywhere.
The silent officer at the wheel shook his head and finally spoke for the first time in like, ever. “She’s been there for the last few minutes.”
“Watching us?” The interruption aggravated Bitchtective.
“Yeah, I don’t know what she is doing, but she doesn’t look like a problem,” the officer said.
“She isn’t,” I added. “She’s probably looking for me.”
“She’s your friend?” Bitchtective seemed surprised that I had a friend. Miracles sometimes happen.
“Yes, and she’s not a problem,” I agreed with the officer, suppressing my smile at the weird girl peering behind the tree trunk.
I had no idea why she was there, but it felt like she had my back and was ensuring I was okay. Spying was a good hobby for a bored, shy girl to pursue after she appeared when Bitchtective visited me in my dorm room and revealed who she was.
“Fine,” Bitchtective waved her hand dismissively at the encroaching geeky girl and focused back on me. “Tonight. Do you understand? Plant the cameras tonight. No excuses. No chickening out. Tonight.”
The pressure from her demands felt like someone was sitting on my chest, and I struggled to breathe. “Yes, I will do it,” I promised, so she would unlock the car and let me out. I needed to get out now. “I will do it.”
“Good,” she retorted. Then she hesitated for several seconds to show me who was in charge before finally releasing the car's locks in a way that tormented me.
Once out into the fresh air, I could breathe again, despite the weight of the mission I was instructed to pursue. I walked past the Cheetos hiding place, heard a “Psssst,” and looked back.
“Cheetos? What are you doing here?” I played dumb. I’d become pretty good at being the pretender.
“Police?” she said, pointing to an unmarked police vehicle pulling out of the car park.
“Huh, no, just…ah, people, they’re family. That’s what they are, family checking up on me,” I fumbled, trying to find an explanation, but my life was not her business anyway. I owed Cheetos nothing, just like I owed nothing to everyone else in my sordid shit show of a life.
“Oh, she looked like that cop that came into your room that day,” she said, wedging me between a rock and a hard place.
“No,” I laughed it off as she was being ridiculous, then changed the subject. “Anyway, I have to get to class.”
I stepped ahead of her, only a hand to seize my forearm in an attempt to pull me back. “I have to show you something,” she breathed as her eyes flicked about nervously with every sound and every movement behind glasses.
I was eager to move away from this area because it had a bad smell figuratively, due to the dirty cops. Even though I was free from their restraints, I wasn’t free from their demands.
“Wait. I have something for you,” Cheetos flatly, still casting her eyes about apprehensively.
“What is it?” I wasn’t in the mood for this; the stress was getting to me, and I just wanted to escape it. “I need to go to class, Kat.”
“Wait. I have something,” she said, backing away into the cover of the hanging branches and then waving me over.
“Okay,” I succumbed and stepped off the path into the shadows of the tree.
“It’ll be two hundred dollars,” she breathed anxiously as she plunged her hand inside her bag, signaling that she wanted to peer inside.
“What is it?” I hesitated, peering in there because this girl acted strangely.
She mouthed something, but when a group of students walked past on the path, chatting, she dipped back further into the bushes, still with her hand inside her bag.
I followed her, and once she was sure it was okay, she opened the bag wider so I could see an object wrapped in blue fabric. “It’s a gun. A handgun.”
An exhilarated gasp escaped my mouth, and she shrank down in horror at how loud I was. “Shhh. Oh my god. No one can know about this,” she whispered.
“You did? Oh my gosh. Let me have a look,” I was about to plunge my hand into her bag when she pulled away from me.
“Two hundred dollars. Cash,” she proclaimed, terrified someone might hear.
“I need to see it first,” I whispered. “Before I pay. I need to try it out to make sure it works.”
“It works. Trust me,” she hissed impatiently. It was clear that she wasn’t impatient with me, but with the situation.
“Um, Cheetos, I’m not going to take two hundred out of my bank account for a gun that I don’t know if it works,” I told her.
She sighed, bereaved. “Okay, one hundred.”
“Cheetos, Kat, seriously, I need to try it out first,” I stressed.
“Forget it,” she snapped, taking the gun from her bag and shoving it at me. “Take it. Pay me later. I don’t want it in my bag anymore because it’s freaking me out.”
“Oh my gosh,” I panicked, snatching it from her and shoving it in my bag. “Where did you get it from?”
“Make it fifty,” she replied, stepping away from me as if it were suddenly made of poison because I was now the dangerous one.
“Thanks,” I called after her as she dropped her head down and walked quickly away. I stood alone, wondering what to do with the weapon in my bag. Was it loaded? Did it have the safety cap on?
The only option was to head back to my dorm room to study it privately and then take it with me tonight when I have to plant the bugs for Bitchtective for protection.
Feeling the gun's added weight in my bag, I wanted to get rid of it fast, so I ran back to my dorm room. Once inside, I discreetly checked that the camera was covered over the blind before I took the gun out of my bag and removed the fabric. Then, I searched social media for instructions on how to use it.
But the question plaguing me as I checked to see if it was loaded was: Where did Cheetos get it from?
***
With two tiny devices in my pants pocket, I arrived for my shift at the club, nervous as hell, as if everyone could tell that I was guilty and up to something, even when I hadn’t done anything. Yet.
My hand patted my pocket throughout my shift to ensure the bugs hadn’t fallen out. And when it was time for me to push the dinner trolley to Ronan and Mikael upstairs, I had to calm my racing heart by taking deep breaths.
I stepped out of the elevator and pushed open the first office door. “Ronan,” I whispered, “I mean…Mr. Byrne. Your dinner is here.”
Ronan swung the door open and stood over me, frightening me. “Remember, don’t say anything about what happened last night, will you?” he warned, brushing the back of his hand against my side.
“Absolutely not,” I promised, handing him the silver tray with the covered plate, hoping he hadn’t noticed how much I was trembling.
He tilted his head to the side, strong eyeing me. “Are you okay?” Damn, he noticed me acting weirdly. Calm your shit, Riley.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I nodded my chin toward Mr. Kaiser’s door. “He makes me nervous.”
“Oh,” he declared quietly. Yeah, he’s starved of warmth unless you’re a wealthy, high-paying member, then he manages to crack a smile. He treats me well. He saved my life.”
“Then he must have a heart somewhere,” I chuckled nervously, eager to do my job and leave.
“He does. He’s a good man,” Ronan said under his breath as if trying to convince me.
I hadn’t seen a kind side of Mikael ever. Even back before he was arrested, I hadn’t noticed him being an altruistic figure. I viewed him as the dangerous sidekick of my foster father, and therefore, I tended to keep away from him.
“I better go,” I told Ronan as I moved away from that handsome, tall, clean-cut man with a strapping body that made me shiver just looking at him.
He gave me a sharp look that bothered me a little before stepping back inside his office. My heart thudded heavily against my ribcage as his loomed before me.
Taking a deep breath, I tapped on his door and listened for instructions before pushing the door open.
“Dinner,” I announced, trying to keep my voice cheerful. However, I realized it was out of character because I never had a cheerful voice, which only made me look suspicious.
As usual, Mr. Kaiser’s stare was intimidating under his dark eyelashes, knives flying out of his eyeballs and landing in my skull. Sweat poured down my back as I took the tray out of the warmer and held it in my hands until he told me where to put it.
His laptop was on his desk, and instead of instructing me, his fingers started tapping on the keyboard. As he did that, I plotted where to plant the bugs. Honestly, his unlikable attitude made my job easier.
I cleared my throat, and he ignored me, so I stepped closer to his desk. “Um, sir, Mr. Kaiser, where-”
He held up his hand to hush me, then continued to tap on his laptop as the tray's weight was burdening me, and a dull ache traveled up my forearm to my shoulders. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I placed it on the desk opposite him, and his head looked up to glare at me. To avoid his penetrating stare, I crouched down below the line of the desk to pretend to do my shoelaces up.
While I was out of his firing line, I stuck a bug under his desk, then popped up again, apologizing, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kaiser, my lace was untied.”
Immediately, I picked the tray up and stood there waiting until he directed me. “Just leave it where you had it,” he stated indifferently.
“Sure. Okay,” I smiled, backing away, as a little voice inside my head screamed, “Don’t look at the camera. Don’t look at the camera.”
“Glass,” his voice cut through my anxiety, and I looked back. Damn. I wasn’t out of the warzone yet.
“Pardon?” I questioned, unsure of what he was referring to.
“Pour me a glass,” he instructed, pointing to the liquor cabinet with the bottle of whiskey on top, with two crystal tumblers resting beside it.
“No problem,” I said in a hushed voice as my heart thudded doggedly, stirring nausea and a rising panic attack.
My hands were aching and numb from holding the weight of the tray, so when I seized the neck of the whiskey bottle, I struggled to lift it since it was two-thirds full. It slipped from my grasp and landed on the tray, making a loud bang.
“I’m so sorry,” I pleaded, more embarrassed by the banging noise that made him flinch rather than that I almost smashed the entire thing.
Using both hands to lift it, I shakily poured a glass, but spilled a little onto the tray as the sweet scent rose and met me. An imposing figure stood over me, and I gasped in fright because I hadn’t noticed that he had left his chair.
I swallowed over a lump in my throat as his large hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle over my hand and held it tightly. His warm breath tickled the top of my head as his body heat blistered my skin, trapping me in a space I couldn’t escape from.
My cheeks burned as heat traveled down my neck and started to itch, and I was worried that a heat rash might have erupted, marring my skin. He said nothing. His entire vibe was to pretend I wasn’t there, a doormat to walk all over, rather than acknowledge my existence.
After pouring the whiskey, he placed it back down as warmth clamped my spine, and just when I realized he was touching me, he stepped away with his glass and sat back down.
“Is that all?” I asked, placing a hand on my cheek to feel how hot it was.
“No,” he replied, lowering his eyes to focus back on the laptop screen.
I exhaled as the words, “Thank fuck,” radiated in my mind and I had to stop myself from saying them aloud. I could escape. I could finally escape.
As I walked to the door, “Ah, hang on,” he asserted, annoyed.
I looked back, aching to leave. “Yes?”
“You forgot something,” he seemed angry, and my worst nightmare came to pass. He knew. He knew I planted the camera. Somehow, he saw me do it. My life passed before my eyes. This was where it ended. This was where I took my last breath.
“I’m sorry?” I apologized for the hundredth time since I walked into the office. Should I run? Where would I go?
“You forgot something,” he repeated glaring at me with narrowed eyes as if I was a blob of dog shit. I screwed him over once before and I tried to screw him over again, but he caught me in the act. I revolted against him.
“What do you mean?” I played dumb and cast my eye around the office, looking for the thing I had forgotten. The tray was resting on his desk, and the trolley was waiting in the hall. What had I missed? There was only one other option. The bug was stuck under his desk.
To my relief, he pointed to the liquor cabinet. “Clean your mess,” he demanded.
“Oh, my gosh,” I gasped apologetically and pulled my apron up to wipe it clean as I could feel him watching me. A similar gaze to his nephew, Gunner, but worse. Much worse.
As I turned to leave, he licked his bottom lip, running those eyes over my thighs, before lowering his gaze to his laptop again.
Once out in the hallway, I caught my breath and walked to the trolley to the elevator. I pressed the button and glanced at the ceiling, wishing I were a million miles away.
Me: It’s done.
Bitchtective: Good
I finished the rest of my shift without a hitch and quickly escaped out the back exit, down the alleyway to the bus stop, avoiding Ronan, who liked to offer me a ride home. But tonight, I needed to be alone to figure out what to do next.