Chapter 3
Games of Cat and Mouse

Laura couldn’t look at me. Her entire focus was on stirring the sugar she’d added to her coffee even though I was certain it was already far too sweet.

I let her have her silence to gather her thoughts while I flipped through the folder Ness had sent me home with; a mix of official forms and drink ingredients I feared I’d never memorise. He’d also text me a schedule for the week, allowing me to take tomorrow off to study in preparation for class on Monday, which meant my official start day was Wednesday. Quite why they were being so flexible for me, I didn’t know. Maybe it really was just because I was friends with Laura, which brought me back to her once more.

Cupping my own mug of coffee, I took a slow sip while watching her scrolling through her newsfeed over the rim.

“I hate when you do that,” she muttered, pale eyes finally lifting to meet my gaze.

“Do what?” I asked innocently.

She huffed and pointed a finger at me. “You know exactly what. That. . .that thing you do without saying anything.”

I laughed, propping my elbows on the breakfast bar. She’d said as much before.

“If I don’t need to say anything, then spill.”

She huffed, and picked at the edge of her nail, a nervous act I wasn’t used to seeing from her.

“You know I got into some trouble during high school. Mum was drunk all the time, my brothers and sisters always fighting, there was never any food and always some random stranger on our couch. I used to escape the arguing at night by going to clubs, getting wasted and finding any drug under the sun to help me get through it.”

I nodded and murmured to show I was listening.

Laura and I had only been roommates, and friends, for a little over a year, but she’d opened up to me as I had her very early on. Yet, while I knew about her horrid home life, and she mine - though I’d always argued mine wasn’t bad really - there was much we still had to share. Like why she'd never introduced me to her friends from The Blackbird. I was sure she knew them from somewhere before the pub had even opened.

“I met Mac at a dodgy club, a really dodgy one. Some guy, I can’t even remember his name, took me there for a ‘good time’.” She shuddered and took a long sip of coffee before continuing. “Anyway, the guy attacked me, pushed me up against the wall outside, shoved his tongue down my throat and his hand up my dress. Mac chased him off. I was practically dead to the world, bleeding badly from where I’d hit my head in the struggle, so he took me to his, cleaned me up, and made sure I was alright.

“I told him everything about my life that night. Everything. He just sat and listened, no judgement. We. . .connected. I couldn’t have been much older than seventeen at the time but I was lost as fuck. I’d. . .I’d probably be dead if he hadn’t shown me there are other ways to get what I got from drug highs and dangerous situations. He introduced me to his circle, and I found a place where I wasn’t judged or pitied, and a way to make money doing something I enjoyed. There’s a freedom with them, and people like you might look at it and see something to be feared or shunned, but it’s mine.”

“I wouldn’t ever judge you, Loz,” I murmured, reaching out to touch her arm.

She softened, the defensive edge disappearing from her voice. “You might, if you knew.”

“So tell me, I’ll listen.”

Withdrawing her arm, she lifted her hand and rubbed at her neck with a dreamy smile. “It doesn’t matter, as I said, it’s mine. If you’re asking about me and Mac, its complicated. We’re not, how do I say, monogamous. He doesn’t really do relationships.” The whistful look from seconds ago faded and she looked back down at her phone. “Now you work where most of my friends do, you’ll get to know them. The only reason I never introduced you is because they can be a bit intense.”

“They are that,” I agreed, and I’d only met three of them properly because I didn’t count falling through the door at their feet as meeting the others.

“You bumped into Taran then?”

“Yup, in his office. And the so called Laird didn’t seem to know if he wanted me to stay or go. Have you met him?”
She chuckled. “A few times but we’ve never really had a proper conversation. He’s picky.”

“Picky?”

“You probably don’t want to know.”

I hummed, drumming my fingers on the ceramic mug as I forced pieces of the puzzle into place. “Picky. . .in a way that has something to do with what’s through that red door?”

Maybe she realised her ploy hadn’t worked, that I’d not been thrown off the scent, because she didn’t bother trying to brush it off this time.

“I was telling the truth when I said it’s for VIP's, beyond that, it’s really not my place to say.”

“Oh? I thought, maybe it was, well, I don’t know what I thought to be honest. I just want you to be safe. Don’t try and tell me that room wasn’t where you were Friday night, and with Mac.” I reached across the table for her. “He looked so angry with you. I got worried when you disappeared with him behind not one, but two locked doors.”

She took my hand in hers, her fingers appearing snow white next to the sandy tan I was beginning to get.

“I am safe. I swear. Mac just likes things to happen on his time frame and when he heard I was there, he thought I was there for him and that I was keeping him waiting. Believe me, if any of them hurt me, I’d tell you so I could watch you tear them a new one.”

I laughed. I hadn’t been violent a day in my life but I’d never had a friend to be protective over before. “Maybe I could say he stole something to the big boss and let The Laird rip him a new one for me.”

“You seem to have plenty of opinions about a man you don’t know. . .” A sly smile curled my friends painted red lips as she wiggled her eyebrows. “What exactly happened in his office?”

“He’s demanding.” I imitated the hand gesture he’d used, twice, to get me to stand when I’d tried to help clear up the papers I’d knocked over, and Laura hid a smile behind her mug, as if there was a joke I was missing. “There’s also something about him, and Wren too, that make me feel really-“

“Horny?” Laura supplied.

“Frightened.”

“Oh.” Laura frowned then shrugged a shoulder and sat back. “He’s not a bad guy. None of them are. That vibe and need for control is their whole thing. You could probably use a little bit of it.” She rapped her nails over the ceramic, studying me in a way that made me shift on my stool.

“What I need, is chocolate on hand. I’m going to use it to reward myself for every 500 words I write of my assignment.”

“Good girl!” Laura chirped, whipping open the biscuit drawer to wave a KitKat in the air.

But her words threw me back to hearing another utter the same compliment, the way my chest had warmed, then how it had felt to feel his breath on my skin, and suddenly there was a pulsing between my thighs that made me clamp them hard together.

“Sorcha? KitKat or Wagon wheel?”

Except chocolate was the last thing on my mind now.

I didn’t get to finish the Wagon wheel, not as a reward anyway. One thousand words in and I ended up staring at the screen of my laptop but seeing a pair of dark eyes in my head. For the hundredth time that night, my thighs pressed together, and I shoved away from the small desk in my bedroom to run a hand through my hair. Maybe a shower would help. Or reminding myself of the infuriation I felt around the man I’d only met the bloody day before. And wouldn’t see again until the day after tomorrow with lectures to go to fill up my day.

“I’m off to work!” Laura shouted from the front door. “If I find out you watched the new episode of Yellowjackets without me, I’ll use you as a human sacrifice, okay?”

“You got it!” I called back on a laugh, spinning around once more in my chair.

When the door clicked shut behind her, the silence of the flat became deafening.
I wasn’t going to get anymore work done. The assignment was due before the end of June, my last piece before I moved onto my final year of university. Then I’d have my degree, more freedom, soon I’d have money coming in. I smiled. My life was getting on track.

Ping!

An unfamiliar number popped up on my phone, and when I read the message, my insides clenched.

I expect the forms back tomorrow to finalise your employment. Save this number to your phone. – The Laird.

Nose scrunching at the audacity, I swiped up my phone and the room filled with irritated tapping as I replied,

Not my shift tomorrow. I’ll hand them back on Tuesday when I come in.

I’d only just put my phone back down when it pinged again. Two simple words, but they threw me for a loop.

Tomorrow. – Taran.

He’d signed it with his name this time, but signing texts at all was odd. Hell, who even texted these days? Everyone I know got in touch via WhatsApp or messenger these days.

Huffing, I cursed the air and slammed the laptop shut. Did he not remember I had classes? Lectures, library time, not to mention the fact The Blackbird was on the other side of the city from my University, and I didn’t tend to take the car unless I was late.

There was no use getting snidy with my new boss however, especially as I was on thin ice with him already.

Then an idea struck and I chuckled to myself as I picked my phone back up, feeling smug and witty as I agreed to tomorrow, smirking as I tacked on a ‘sir’ at the end. But my glee didn’t last long when the screen lit up right away with the same number calling.

“Shit.”

My thumb hovered the reject button, but that would be too obvious, so I was forced to either answer or let it ring out. Before I even consciously made a decision, my thumb pressed the green button and I heard myself croak out, “Hello?”

“You can bring your forms down now.”

I choked at the bite to his voice, rising from my chair. “I don’t think so. I’m working on Uni stuff that needs finished in the next month if I want to do my bachelor’s. And...and Laura’s not feeling well...”

The fizzing of the phone signal filled the silence, and I heard scratching like pencil on paper, and low music in the background.

“Funny,” he said when I guessed he'd died writing. “Cait told me she went to meet Laura for work only ten minutes ago.”

God, why did I lie?

I slumped back in my chair, out of excuses.

“It’s only so I can get your bank details and send you the money owed for the work you did with Ness. If you’d rather wait until tomorrow. . .”

Tomorrow was your idea in the first place, asshole, I wanted to snap, but the very thought of having real money in my bank, of paying for my own lunch at Uni, of not having to borrow from Laura to pick up a coffee or takeaway on the way home. . .of having a modicum of monetary independence.

“How much?”

“Be here in an hour.”

“Taran-“

“What happened to Sir?”

“What happened to come through tomorrow?”

Was that a muffled growl down the line?

“I’m not asking now, Little Mouse. Come straight to my office when you get here and I can give you the keys you’ll need too. Straight to my office,” he repeated darkly, adding, “The folk here tonight are on the hunt, keep your eyes down when you do if you want to be unbothered.”

So Sunday nights meant little to the pub. I wondered if it would be as busy as on Friday; more than once I’d felt hands wandering where they shouldn’t, but I found hunting a strange term for boys with no restraint playing at being men.

“Fine.”

“Not the best way to speak to your boss. . .”

Gritting my teeth, I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a slow breath. “Fine, I will be there within the hour with the forms, Sir.”

“A bit better.”

God almighty. He didn’t even sound like he actually wanted me to come down, his tone bored as if this entire situation was a nuisance, and I had little energy left to deal at. . .pulling my phone away to look at the time, I cringe. 8pm. Not that late. Later than I’d like to be heading out when class tomorrow but arguing with this stubborn man could take up just as much time.

“Is there anything else, Sir?” I asked, knowing he would hear the annoyance in the dripping sweetness of my voice.

A deep chuckle rumbled down the phone. The sound made my insides clench again and I found myself having to swallow as my mouth watered.

“I’ll see you soon, Little Mouse.”

And with that, he hung up.

I stared at my phone in shock. Just who did he think he was?

Part of me thought about not going. About chucking the forms in the bin and restarting my search for a job that wouldn’t get me mixed up in whatever Laura already was. She’d been right. This wasn’t the fit for me. Yet, when I settled back on my chair, another thought occurred. What if that was exactly what Taran wanted? He’d been furious when he saw me behind the bar, had threatened and intimidated in an attempt to get me to leave, what if this was a continuation of his wanting me gone? It would certainly be easier for him if I quit of my own volition.

“Fuck him,” I muttered, shoving myself off the chair so hard it went flying back.

Marching out my bedroom, I headed for Laura’s, knowing she wouldn’t mind if I borrowed clothes or makeup. She’d probably be proud of me. Normally she had to cajole and apply alcohol for me to allow her to use me like a dress-doll.
After all, hadn’t Taran said to let her dress me if I was going to work nights? I may not be going to work, but it was night. And I wanted to prove something to him. . .maybe myself too.

But Laura’s wardrobe was even more intimidating than my new boss. She wasn’t shy of colour. Bright neon colours brightened the black corsets, jeans, lace tops, leather trouser and skirts; every type of boot, heel, pump and sandal lined the bottom, most studded in her usually favoured silver.

I let out a whoosh of air.

There was one or two dress sizes between Laura and I depending on where we got things, and I already her more tighter fitting outfits would squeeze the life out of me, and there was no way I was wearing a dress again.
Grabbing the least terrifying corset, a matte black one with gorgeous sweeping black sleeves made from lace that decorated the edge of the corset too. That should cover up everything I wanted it to. And I could wear a pair of my own blue, bootcut jeans. I was about to shut the wardrobe when a pair of black biker boots caught my attention. My lips twitched. I grabbed those too. And some of Laura’s makeup, though I decided to forgo using her foundation this time. My concealer would had to do until I got some of my own that actually matched my skin.

Damn. Was I really going to buy makeup just for a job?

Was I really going to walk out looking like I’d fallen off some country gone gothic magazine shoot?

More uncomfortable than I’d ever admit, I couldn’t bring myself to look in the mirror longer than it took to make sure I hadn’t smudged eyeliner. It was the first time I’d put it on myself.

With my stomach doing flops, I grabbed a hoodie and zipped it up, tucked the forms under my arm, and locked the flat behind me before I could change my mind. A glance at my phone told me I wasn’t going to make it to The Blackbird within the hour as Taran had requested, but if I took the car, I would only be late by ten minutes at most.

However, when I found myself parked down the street from the pub, I couldn’t uncurl my fingers from the steering wheel. My phone has pinged several time during the drive, but I was too busy staring at the red haired man standing guard at the doors of the pub. Mac. They needed a bouncer on a Sunday night?

The butterflies in my tummy were having a riot. So much so, the back of my throat tingled as if I might actually be sick.

“Get a grip, Sorcha, for god’s sake.”

I practically fell out the car.

Mac arched a brow at my approach, his gaze flicking behind me as if looking for Laura, and he frowned when he didn’t. “Tonight isn’t for you. Even if you’ve made the effort to look the part.”

“I work here,” I protested.

“Not tonight you don’t.”

Rolling my eyes, I waved the forms I held in front of him. “Your boss, The Laird, asked me to come here, and I’m already late as it is. Go ask him yourself if you have to.”

Dark grey eyes still held a measure of disbelief as he shifted weight foot to foot. I nearly sniggered. Of course. He was scared of Taran too. If he called him to get proof of my claim, I doubted Taran would be very happy about the further hold up. I couldn’t get a glimpse of anything inside, but the longer Mac remained immovable, the more I wondered if staying home and quitting before I started was the better idea.

“Dammit,” he muttered, stoking his beard as his eyes ran over me again. “You’d have been better wearing what you normally do. . .too late now. Go on then. He’ll already want your ass for keeping him waiting.”

I rolled my eyes.

Skipping round him, I gripped the handle and held my breath as I pulled it open, ready to slam it shut should I see anything I’d rather not. Mac snorted behind me.

I’d expected the sound my mother referred to as ‘doons doons’ music, not the eerie Gaelic air that drifted around the room. The tables were still out and lit black candles decorated each one, lighting the faces of the occupants in a soft orange glow. A few looked my way as I entered, but most were focussed on their own conversations and drinks. It was just a normal night by the looks of it as I moved towards the bar. Some were dressed as I’d expected, black and blood red dominating the room, but others were more casual. One girl who didn’t even look old enough to be sitting in a pub wore a dress so glaringly white, I was shocked at her bravery as she held a glass of plum coloured wine.

It was the fact the No Entry door beside the stage was open that really struck me as odd.

“Do you get off on inviting yourself into private spaces?” a voice growled from behind the bar.

Wren was pouring a beer, but his eyes were glaring at me.

“I’m just here to drop something off and then I’ll be gone.”

Wren smirked, his gaze flicking upwards as he placed the pint on the bar. “Aye right.”

Following his gaze, I froze under yet another glare. Standing on the balcony directly outside his office, gripping the barrier as if he wished to snap it off, was Taran.

I felt the others in the room begin to take notice, and shifted at the smirks that graced the faces of more than a few at the table nearest me as they looked between us.

A shiver went up my spine.

Suddenly I couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement that made my hands begin to tremble.

When Taran cocked his head, I could practically here him demanding for me to hurry up. Tearing my gaze from his felt like trying to tear two magnets apart, but as soon as I was free of his eyes, it was like my body was kick-started again. I took a deep breath as I forced myself to walk to the door, trying to hype myself up in preparation for what was probably going to be another argument between us.