Page 2 of Capture (Primal #3)

D id she spill?” I asked Ronan when he glided into my office.

“No,” he replied, heavyheartedly. “It was on the tip of her tongue, but…” he shook his head. “The longer she’s here, the more she will be a problem for us. Anyway, I’m going to the kitchen to grab a plate for her.”

I drained my glass of whiskey and took a strong pull of my cigar as I pondered our situation and what he had just said. “Let me do that,” I told him, and he flinched.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, frowning. “You’re not going to do anything to her, are you?”

I took another pull on my cigar and blew out the smoke to cloud his concerned face. “I’ll decide what I do to her.”

“We need her alive, Mikky,” he insisted.

“Do we?” I was playing with him, then I pointed my cigar finger at him. “You and Gunner want her kept alive, so you can keep fucking her. I…” pointing to my chest, “on the other hand, don’t care. She’s our prisoner. Held hostage for treason.”

“Treason?” he questioned. “We’re not a sovereign country.”

“I’m the king, and she committed treason,” I clarified. “Against the Kaisers. We’re American royalty.”

“C’mon, Mikky, don’t hurt her,” he groaned as fear flashed behind his eyes.

He had feelings for the girl, and for some reason, it irritated the living shit out of me.

Gunner and Ronan fell for her charms because they were weak, unable to refrain from touching the one girl they should’ve stayed away from.

That defines a weak man. In a way, I could forgive them for their youthful indiscretions, but their youth should never supersede my authority.

I stubbed out my cigar, placed it on the ashtray, and then pushed back my chair. “I’ll get the tray from the kitchen.”

“Okay,” he said, succumbing to my orders and retreating to his office. It wasn’t my problem that he fell for a girl who betrayed us, and perhaps this would be a great learning lesson for him and Gunner. “Do you want me to go with you?”

I frowned. “No. I can carry a plate of food on my own, Ronan. Go and check on the liquor stocks in the bar downstairs.” I wanted to get rid of him because he seems to believe he’s responsible for the little liar.

“I already did that earlier,” he informed me. “Anyway, have you seen Gunner? I need him to guard her door because she’s acting stupid and drawing attention to herself. So we might have to move her to a more private location.”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “We can keep an eye on her if we keep her here, and what do you mean she’s drawing attention to herself?”

“Banging on the door and screaming,” he replied.

Those rooms were deliberately designed so you could faintly hear the fucking noises in the next room to get clients in the mood; however, the two bondage rooms are completely soundproof, but they are always booked in advance.

I didn’t want to waste one of those rooms to imprison her, but it might come to that.

“For now, we’ll just leave her where she is, and if she causes a problem, we’ll become her problem. You and Gunner can do shifts to watch over her.” I nodded toward the wall. “I think Gunner is in the viewing room.”

He slipped his hands into his pants pockets and backed away, and I found myself smiling at his difficulty in dealing with this situation.

The guy had run this place for the last three years while I was in prison, under my orders, yet this was the hill he wanted to die on.

A plain, lying girl who worked for the fucking police.

I was both disappointed and a little entertained.

The first broken heart was always the worst, but the pain numbed over time.

Of course, I wasn’t speaking of experience, since I had never allowed myself to fall in love because it was always inconvenient and messy. And as soon as the grip of impatience tightened in my chest, I’d distance myself from the girl, preferring the company of prostitutes.

I rolled my shirt sleeves up to the elbows and was taken aback when I automatically checked my hair in the mirror.

For her. What the fuck? As I left the office, I internally scolded myself for caring about how I looked to her.

The liar. The traitor. Allegedly, Lars’ foster daughter and Gunner’s sister.

Jeezus, she’s not even overly attractive.

I mean…she’s pleasant on the eyes, curves in all the right places, smells great, a little dimple on her cheek, worry lines on her forehead showing her strain with being in my presence.

I liked that I made her fumble and twitch, but it seemed that she was playing me all along, and perhaps her nervousness was because she was screwing me over.

My ego needed some therapy, like a good whore and a strong drink.

Drinking a fucking work well together, as long as the drinking wasn’t a priority over the fucking.

My fingers twitched toward my phone to contact Freddie to hook up another high-class prostitute, but my hunger to see the little liar locked in that room alone got me almost hard. Almost.

I poked my head into the viewing room to find Gunner and Ronan having a conversation. Gunner’s black scowl was a cover for the hurt in his eyes, while Ronan, hands in pockets, was trying to convince him to guard the girl’s room.

“If she’s being obnoxious, then one of you gets down there ASAP to shut her up,” I ordered them, ignoring their distressed expressions.

“I’ll go,” Gunner offered. He pulled his hood over his head, and as he walked past me, I pulled it back off his dark head again to remind him of the standards.

“Go down the back corridor, so our members don’t see you,” I told him, shaking my head. How many times did I have to remind him to wear formal clothes, but no, he turns up in a fucking black hooded sweatshirt.

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.