The shape of control

Ronan's POV

Being the leader of a syndicate has never been about power.

What matters most is control. Control over people, over information, over timing. This is the only reason I am still alive.

I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Nora, the pulse of music vibrating faintly through the glass. Below, the club is exactly as it should be.

Expensive and loud enough to hide the reality of everything else it is not.

"Identity confirmed." Riley's voice breaks the silence behind me.

"Quinn Maryham," he continues, reading from the tablet in his hand. "Police Intelligence Unit. Assigned to Chief John Drayam."

So the old man finally decided to make a move. I scoff lightly, my gaze never straying from the man near the bar.

Brown hair with even browner eyes, posture relaxed. Even as his eyes keep moving, from the exits to the security. I feel a sneer threaten to rise to my lips.

"For a police officer," I mutter, "he's surprisingly good at pretending."

Jamie laughs behind me. "Well, it's good to see one who apparently knows how to do his job."

I glance back, staring at him and the obvious amusement lining his face.

"A cop walking into your club?" He grins. "At a very convenient time, don't you think?"

I sigh, already knowing where this was going. "Get on with it."

"It sounds like I won the bet."

I close my eyes for a second. One stupid night and I had sold my soul to the devil.

"If a cop ever walks into Nora," Jamie says, mocking my voice, "'I'll personally go greet him.'"

"And I meant it. Nora is the cleanest establishment we have. I would love to know why dirt decides to taint it."

He rolls his eyes at me. "Me and you know the old man is simply trying to rile you up."

"And he has successfully done it."

Riley pretends not to hear us, the voice of reason when he needs to be. "Security has eyes on him," he says. "No unusual movements."

"Keep it that way." I adjust the cuffs of my shirt, turning toward the stairs that lead down.

Jamie raises an eyebrow. "You're going yourself?"

"I said I'd greet him."

His grin grows wider. "I knew you wouldn't back out."

"I can still shoot you."

"You could." He shrugs. "But then who would remind you of your terrible decisions?"

I walk toward the door. "Keep watching," I tell Riley. "Pick up clues I'm not able to catch."

He nods as he makes way for me, Jamie on my heel.

---

The private section is built in a way that overlooks almost the entire club.

From here, I don't have to search for him. Quinn practically points himself out.

It's crazy he seems not to notice the way eyes track his every movement.

He studies everything but apparently not the flirty eyes on him.

For a police officer, that is very unprofessional of him.

"That's him?" Jamie whistles. "Well, for what it's worth, he looks harmless."

Jamie studies Quinn for another moment before smirking. "I mean, I expected older."

"So did I." He's younger than I expected the Intelligence Unit to send.

Either Chief Drayam has become careless...

Or he thinks I'll underestimate a pretty face.

Quinn reaches into his pocket.

My head tilts a bit as all the guards stationed around zero in on it.

But he pulls out his wallet and puts it back, not nearly as composed as he's trying to appear.

Nervous, I realize.

Then it happens. His shoulders go rigid, he feels himself being watched.

Slowly, cautiously, he lifts his head and our eyes meet.

The surprise on his face is almost imperceptible.

Almost.

Jamie's quiet laugh breaks the silence. "You've got his attention."

"I noticed." My gaze stays trained on him.

Quinn looks away first. A heartbeat later, his gaze finds mine again.

Like some part of him can't decide whether to look or not...

A faint smile pulls at the corner of my mouth.

Now...

This might actually be entertaining.

---

The conversation goes almost exactly the way I expected it to.

I let him off the hook this time, walking away instead.

"Till next time... Quinn."

And I don't have to turn my back to know he must have frozen up.

Our little cop was something else, I have to admit. His nervousness, yet quiet strength.

I expected him to push back a little. I had handed myself over willingly and he had run instead.

Jamie's laughter starts before the private door even closes."Oh, that was cruel."

"Cruel?" I ask, placing my untouched drink on the nearest table.

"You let him think he fooled you."

With the name thing, I realize. “Jake”, I laugh.

In everything he had said tonight, that was the easiest lie I would've picked out.

The way he paused before replying.

The way his voice softened before he said it. I groaned inwardly.

Stop with this madness.

Riley looks up from his tablet as we enter. "How did it go?"

"He knows nothing." That I'm almost sure of. He didn't even know who I was.

"No doubt?"

"None."

Riley nods once and makes a note.

Jamie drops into a chair. "So?"

I consider the question for a moment.

"He's cautious. More so now that he knows we know who he is."

Jamie nods. "And what's the plan then?"

I look back toward the club through the glass, watching him step out the door. "Turns out he's fleeing for his life."

Jamie bursts into another laugh. "What would the old man think?"

I don't answer immediately. Because there is something else. Something I can't quite explain.

And despite every reason I should have ordered him removed tonight...

"Oh?" Jamie cuts off my inner monologue. "You liked looking at this one."

I face him, my gaze narrowing."What the hell does that mean?"

Riley clears his throat before either of us continues. "What are your orders?"

I look toward the club entrance.

By now Quinn is probably halfway home, convinced he escaped with nothing more than an awkward conversation and slight suspicions that would lead nowhere.

And I should let it end there.

But...

"Keep your eyes on him." Riley waits.

"Quietly."

He nods.

"I want to know where he goes."

"Understood."

I glance once more toward the entrance before a smile tugs faintly at the corner of my mouth.

"Let's play with our lying friend a little.”