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I leaned forward. “The new Chief of Police?”
Two Fingers grinned. “That’s him. Yo, Michael! Say hi to the boys who’re gonna be paying your salary.”
That was another reason for our alliance. The cops needed to have… liaison with the gangs, and we needed to exert some control over them. The fact that we presented a united front helped us gain their respect. Like a union.
I held out my hand. “Mr. Bruce. Pleased to meet you. I was planning to pay you a courtesy visit soon. Thanks for saving me a trip.”
He shook my hand, his face a bit flushed. “Yeah, no need to come to my office.”
“Oh, of course not. I meant at your suite at the Hyatt… I thought to send you a gift. What flesh are you in the market for?”
He blanched, looking out of his depth. The old Chief of Police had just retired and had fortunately picked a replacement who was amenable to continue his arrangement with us. I had a feeling, however, that Michael wasn’t as accustomed to the level of debauchery that his predecessor had been.
“I-I’m married.”
“Great. Your wife can come too. We don’t judge,” I said. The discomfort on his face brought a smile to mine.
The Prophet nudged me as he leaned forward towards the Chief of Police as well. “He’s teasing. Pay him no mind. Hi, Mr. Bruce. I’m Mohamed. Everyone just calls me The Prophet.”
“I see. Pleased to meet you.”
Kirill bent down to the chief. “What will you have to drink, Mr. Bruce?”
Two Fingers and I exchanged glances. He cocked an eyebrow before turning to the cop. “Hey, so my friend here had to clear out some garbage two nights ago in Manhattan. You heard of that?”
Michael swallowed. “Er, yeah. Gangland shooting. Drugs were involved. No pedestrians injured but several neighbors did call the cops. We had to file a report.”
“And? What have the cops concluded happened?”
Michael shrugged. “Like I said, gang violence. Obviously, drugs were involved. They turned on one another and killed each other off.”
“Tragic,” I said drily.
“Yeah. I mean, all the people are dead, so case closed.”
“Very efficient police work.” I grinned, nodding to Kirill. He disappeared for a while and reappeared with a small pouch, which he put in Michael’s hands. “For your trouble.”
The cop nodded and smiled, his eyes lighting up.
Ah, there’s the greed I've been looking for.
“Thank you,” he said all good and proper.
I nodded, leaning back, and exchanging a loaded glance with The Prophet. The new Chief of Police would not be a problem. Margot left the stage, and the lights went down.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Monique’s smoky sultry voice cooed from the speakers. “We have a new dancer tonight, one who is going to blow… your minds. Put your hands together for the sultry temptress, Ariel!”
I cocked a brow. That was a new name. The spotlight came on, highlighting a figure on stage, standing legs akimbo. It was Nora. She wore black leather chaps and boots, the twin curves of her ass on display in a black thong. She wore a cropped, black leather cowboy waistcoat with long fringes hanging down to just above her ass, showing glimpses of her naked back. On her head was a cowboy hat, her brunette hair tied in a low, tight bun.
The music began, Dolly Parton begging Jolene not to take her man.
Interesting song choice.
I leaned in, and in my periphery, I could see The Prophet do the same. Nora swung her hips slowly from side to side before going faster and faster. Pretty soon she was snapping her hip, her butt cheeks shaking rhythmically.
There were people hooting and hollering all around the room. I didn’t like it. I mean, the part of me that was all businesslovedit, but the leering made the rest of me want to take out my gun and shoot every single person in the room. It was disconcerting to realize that I’d grown possessive of a piece of ass I hadn’t even had.
How pathetic was that?
