Hard Tackle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (39 page)

“Just try not to get stabbed on the leg next time,” I replied. “I don’t get down on my knees in front of a man without at least a nice meal first.”

I took some Steri-Strips from the first aid kit and bandaged up the wound as best I could, but he was still bleeding.

“You’ll need to clean the wound again in the morning,” I said, handing Denton the alcohol. “And no, I will not be there to do it for you.”    

“Not even if I buy you a nice meal?” Denton joked.    

“Not even if you buy me the restaurant.”

Denton insisted on staying in the office for a few more hours, but he called for a car to take me home. I tried one more time to get him to go to the hospital, but he was more stubborn than any man I had ever met. Most men had a touch of that in them, but I didn’t know many who would refuse to go to the hospital after being stabbed.

The truth was, I didn’t know many men like Denton, period. During my briefings before starting this operation, Denton had been made out to be a two-dimensional bad boy thug, running daddy’s businesses by day and his crime empire by night. When he wasn’t working, he was playing with a string of models and actresses.    

On the surface, everything I’d seen today fit that description. I hadn’t seen him with any women yet, but he’d been busy with work all day. He’d worked in the office all day and then spent his evening beating people up for not repaying their loans.    

But there was more to him than that. He wasn’t shallow. One look in his eyes was more than enough to confirm that. Denton had a sense of humor, and if I didn’t know better I could swear there was a layer of compassion in there somewhere too.    

He treated me with respect at least, and that was more than I could say for at least one of my former bosses. Some important men were excellent at putting on a show in front of the crowds, but spend time alone with them and things became unpleasant quickly.    

Denton wasn’t like that. But I shouldn’t underestimate him. He’d beaten someone bloody right in front of my eyes, and I didn’t doubt that he was capable of much worse.    

Denton was dangerous in more ways than one. He was a threat to those who crossed him, but he was also dangerous for those who got close to him. Just look at what happened to his last girlfriend.    

Whatever I did, I couldn’t allow myself to get too close to Denton. I had to maintain an emotional distance for the sake of my own sanity. That had seemed so easy when Lois and I had discussed it in the safe confines of the office, but now I worried that it wouldn’t be so straightforward.

Denton had a way of pulling you towards him. I just hoped I had the strength to resist.

T
hat hadn’t gone exactly
as planned. Served me right for trying to put on a show.  

I’d encouraged Perry to come at me with his knife, but my attempt at casually deflecting him only succeeded in sending the knife tearing through my skin.  

Perry sent me a message apologizing, but it wasn’t his fault. I’d agreed to let him off with a beating instead of repaying his debt, and it had been my idea to take a few blows in the fight as well.  

All to test Chloe’s resolve and loyalty. That’s what I told myself anyway, but that didn’t explain why I let Perry punch me. I could have tested Chloe without getting a beating myself, but I wanted to look like the hard man in front of her.  

Perhaps I’d even wanted her to look after me, although I could hardly have predicted the stab wound or that she would have basic first aid training.

There was a lot about Chloe that I hadn’t predicted. The way she’d dressed tonight had been out of this world. I couldn’t get the mental image out of her out of my mind, and I’d only been half joking when I teased her about getting me naked.  

Chloe was going to make a damn good assistant. I’d have to give it a few days to make sure she handled tonight’s events with the appropriate level of discretion, but I had complete and utter confidence in her.  

Not every woman would have stayed by the door and watched the fight. Most would have run for a mile. Chloe had waited patiently for it all to finish and then cleaned up my wounds afterwards.  

I slumped down on the chair by my desk, but winced in pain as I felt the bandage slide against the wound. I should get stitches, but I’d made a huge fuss about not getting them that I’d look like an idiot if I went back on my word now. The wound would heal. Eventually.

I grabbed an old gym shirt that I’d left in a ball on my desk. It was dank with stale sweat, but it would have to do. I’d still smell better than most of the men in the club, especially by the time we turned on the lights and kicked them all out.  

There wasn’t much else to do in the office, but I wanted to give the wound a chance to stop bleeding before I called a car to take me home. I used my legs to slowly slide the chair over towards the safe on the wall and dug out some cash. A few thousand should do it.

It was a good thing my dad never looked too closely at the accounts for this place. If he did he might question why we spent so much on high-end whiskey when we didn’t sell any of the stuff. At least once a month I had to withdraw money from the safe to keep Dad happy. And to keep people like Perry alive.

My phone vibrated loudly on my desk. I quickly pulled myself back over, hoping it was Chloe calling. She had no reason to call, but it would have been nice. No such luck.

“Dad,” I said, as I put the call on speaker. “To what do I owe the pleasure.”

Neither myself nor Dad were under any pretense that we were a close, happy family. When we spoke, the conversations were strictly business. Dad invoked ‘family honor’ a few times, but that was always for business purposes as well.  

The arrangement suited us both. I didn’t like Dad, and I knew he didn’t much care for me. He saw me as his heir, which meant I was important to him, but it didn’t mean he had to like me.

“You get the money from Perry?” Dad asked.  

“About half,” I replied. “He insisted he couldn’t pay any more.”  

“Fucking hell,” Dad yelled. “That prick has had far too many chances. I’m sure he’s just having us on. I drove past that pizza place of his the other night. You should have seen the line of people waiting for his shit. The place was full of drunk frat boys and sluts.”

“The margins on pizza are low,” I pointed out calmly.

“I don’t care about his fucking margins. What about our margins?”

“We charged him twenty percent interest. Compounded. Our margins are more than enough to take the odd loss once in awhile.”

“I didn’t get where I was today by accepting losses. I want every penny you can get out of him.”

“I did. Trust me, I was very persuasive. Took a few blows myself as well.”

My hand instinctively went down to my side, but the second I made contact with the wound, I pulled it away again in pain.

“He hit you back? Fucking nerve of the guy.”

“He was barely alive by the time he crawled out of here.”

“Next time, less of the barely. Speaking of which, I have a job I need you to take care of.”

If Dad wanted me to handle something personally, then it either involved a large amount of money, someone with a presence in the city, or both.

“What do you need me to do?” I asked.  

“Barton’s boys are back in town.”

Barton?
“His two sons?”  

“Yeah. They were spotted down by the docks last night by some of my informants. This is our chance to strike a big blow. I need you to have their contracts terminated.”

That was Dad’s not so subtle way of saying he wanted them killed. Dad didn’t usually give instructions over the phone, so this was likely urgent as well.  

“They could lead us to Barton,” I suggested. “Why don’t we just watch them for a bit. See where they lead us?”

“Fuck that. Did Roddy just watch Kara and see where she went? No, he fucking killed her. We’re going to do the same to the people he cares about most.”

Dad didn’t care about Kara. He was just bringing her up to get me motivated. It worked. I was going to kill Roddy, and soon, but the more torture I could inflict upon him in the meantime the better. He didn’t get to die a quick death; he would watch those he loved most die right in front of his eyes.

I wouldn’t find it easy to kill them, but if I thought about Kara, pictured the smile I would never see again, I would likely find the motivation.  

“Where are they now?” I asked.

“We don’t know, but I have people looking out for them.”

“Okay. Let me know when you have a location. I’ll handle it.”

“No,” Dad responded firmly. “No need to get your hands dirty on this one. They will likely have protection with them, and if so it’s going to become a firefight.”

So much for talking in code, Dad. You’re getting too old for this.

“I didn’t know you cared,” I replied sarcastically.

“I don’t want you making fucking headline news in the middle of a shootout.”  

That was more like it. He just didn’t want any negative press attention. The jobs that might make it to the press were best handled by nobodies. The hired goons we paid to do our dirty work. But not this job.

“I’ll get someone on it,” I lied. “When you know where they are I’ll give the order.”

Dad hung up. It hadn’t escaped my attention that he could have just handled this himself if he didn’t want me to be the one to pull the trigger. Dad wanted an extra layer of protection between himself and whatever shit went down. This way, if one of the thugs in our employ happened to talk, the police would be led straight back to me. Dad would be in the clear.  

With such a great role model, was it really any surprise I didn’t want children of my own?

I had no intention of paying anyone else to take care of this mess. I had no issue getting the men to make house calls and break some bones if need be, but I could never ask anyone to kill for me.  

This was something I had to do myself. I didn’t enjoy killing. I’d only ever done it twice and that was unarguably in self-defense. The only man I wanted to kill was Roddy Barton, and that was revenge for Kara’s death.  

Killing Roddy’s sons could count as revenge. Part of it at least. They were just as bad as their father, possibly worse actually. They ran a strip club in a rough part of town, and a few of the bartenders at my club used to work there.  

The stories they told were harrowing. The sons regularly abused the women, and didn’t even have the decency to do it behind closed doors.  

One of the bartenders, Suzy, had left after having to watch her friend be raped in front of her eyes. Make no mistake, these men deserved what they had coming to them.  

They were living on borrowed time now. When I got their location, they were going down.

I
barely slept
at all that night, despite the fact that I’d had a long day and my body was physically drained.

Too many emotions were flowing through my body, and I couldn’t force it to shut down for the night. The more I tried, the more awake I felt. On top of being my first day working undercover, I’d also watched a fight up close and personal, seen someone get stabbed, and half-undressed my new boss.  

That brought out emotions I’d never even felt before. I was a nervous person, so nerves were nothing new, and after what I’d seen my dad go through, violence wasn’t a huge issue either. But the chemistry I’d felt with Denton had definitely been new.  

Did it still count as chemistry if only one person felt it? I doubt Denton had even noticed me. Having a woman touch his body was likely a weekly occurrence, whereas I’d only been with a handful of men before. Actually, they weren’t much of a handful, but that wasn’t the point.

Eventually, I did drift off to sleep, but never for more than half an hour. Each time I slept, I had the same nightmare. I relived the fight in my mind, but this time, Denton was like a demon. He towered over Perry, even though in reality they’d been roughly the same height, and fire erupted around him as he yelled and screamed.  

Denton laid into Perry, beating him to a bloody pulp until Perry lay dead on the floor. Then Denton turned to look at me. I froze on the spot, unable to move, as Denton came towards me grinning, and licking blood off his lips.  

“You’re next,” he’d say, as his arm reached out to grab me. That’s when I would wake up.

Despite how ridiculous it all sounded, the scene felt completely real in my head and didn’t get any easier the second or third time I experienced it. The sweat coating my body each time I woke from the nightmare was evidence enough of that.

My alarm went off at six-thirty in the morning, but I was already awake. Tired and exhausted, but awake. I had to get up early to report in to Lois. She was an early riser and that meant I had to be as well. Besides, it’s not like I could just call her from the office.

Lois called my cell--my real cell--at precisely seven o’clock. She was calling from the office, so she was already at her desk. In my defense, she hadn’t been in a nightclub until after midnight.

“How was your first day?” Lois asked.  

She sounded like Mom after my first day with the FBI. With Mom, I’d used the excuse that my work was so secretive that I couldn’t talk about it. That wasn’t true--the first day had consisted of basic training--but I always found talking about work to be stressful, even though Mom was just trying to be polite.

Thankfully, Mom had no idea what I was doing now. If she knew I was working undercover to bring down a crime syndicate, she’d sleep even less than I had last night.

“Surprisingly eventful,” I replied. I told Lois what had happened in the nightclub, although I left out the details about me helping with Denton’s wound. I don’t know why, but I didn’t feel comfortable talking about it. Unlike the fight, that had been a moment shared between just the two of us.  

“I’m amazed he let you get up close and personal so quickly,” Lois remarked. “You seem to have gained his trust already. Either that, or he is just extraordinarily reckless.”

“I don’t think he’s reckless,” I replied.

“Well, I reckon our plan to make you look like Kara worked like a charm.”  

It hadn’t been
our
plan, it had been Lois’ plan. I thought it was cruel, but I’d never spoken up. I was the new girl, it wasn’t my place to make those decisions.

“Last night might have been a one-off,” I said. “I’m sure not every day is like that.”

“We’ll find out soon enough. I think it’s time to start stepping up our game here. I’m going to fly in to the Chicago office in a few days. Come in at the weekend and we can get get you kitted out with some surveillance equipment.”

“I think we should hold off on that,” I suggested.

“Really? Why?” Lois sounded surprised. Back in the planning stages, I’d been eager to start gathering evidence on Denton as soon as possible, but now I wanted to delay it. I had an awful idea I knew why.

“I haven’t met his father yet. If I can keep developing my relationship with Denton then I might get to meet his dad.”

“And when you do, we want you to be kitted out with enough recording equipment to film the Super Bowl.”

“I don’t think that’s the right approach. Denton’s father is bound to be security conscious. I doubt I’ll get close to him with any kind of bugs on me.”

Lois considered my comments for a few seconds, but then dismissed them. “Don’t worry about Denton’s father. If we get enough evidence on Denton to convince a grand jury of his guilt, then we will be able to get a warrant so strong he won’t be able to flush the toilet without us examining the contents first.”

This was exactly as we’d always agreed; get Denton and watch his father crumble afterwards. So why did it feel so wrong now? Despite what happened with my father, I found it hard to muster the enthusiasm to send Denton to jail. How had that happened? I’d only spent a day with him.  

How far should I push this? Lois was my boss after all, but she also wanted my opinion. She’d told me countless times that as the person going undercover, my opinion was just as valuable as everyone else’s. I was the one taking the risks. I was the one putting my life on the line. I got to have my say, regardless of my lack of experience.

“This operation is our only chance to bring them down,” I said, trying to sound assertive. “We’ll never be able to do this again.”

“If we get Denton, we won’t have to.”

“I’m not so sure. Denton isn’t the one calling the shots. I’m not convinced he’s as guilty as we first thought.”  

“Chloe, I hope--”

“And I don’t think he’s that close to his father,” I continued. I didn’t want to appear weak in front of Lois, but I had to say it. “What if we blow our only chance and all we get is the second-in-command. It’s Keiran Russell we want, not his son.”

Lois stayed silent on the other end of the phone for so long that I thought she’d put me on mute. Finally she spoke up. “I’ll delay my trip until the following weekend. We can talk about it then.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “I believe it’s for the best.”

“Chloe?”  

“Yes?”  

“Be careful, okay.”

“I’m perfectly safe, Lois. I have my phone with me all the time.”  

My special issue cellphone had a few alterations, one of which being a sort of panic button activated by pressing the camera lens, which would send my location to the local FBI office. If I pressed the lens for a few seconds, enough FBI agents would show up that you’d think the President was in town.

“I didn’t mean your physical safety,” Lois explained. “I meant your mental well-being. This is your first undercover operation. You’re bound to be anxious.”

“I’m handling it okay so far.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” This time it was my turn to be silent. I didn’t say anything until Lois finally decided to elaborate. “Don’t let yourself get too close to Denton. He has a way of making people trust him--especially young women. You want to appear friendly with him, but always remember that he’s the bad guy. Some of the things he’s done… Just don’t end up like Kara, okay.”

“I won’t,” I said sincerely. Lois’ words hit me hard. I’d let myself forget what I’d read in the FBI’s files on Denton. It didn’t make for pleasant reading. He’d killed people. More than once. He had a temper.

Last night he’d beaten a man bloody, and remained calm the entire time, even after being stabbed. If that’s what he was like when he was in control, I didn’t want to see him when he lost his temper.  

No matter what, I shouldn’t underestimate him. I had to remember that he wasn’t the good guy.  

If only the bad guys didn’t look so damn fine with their shirts off.

T
he next couple
of days were uneventful. Denton spent most of the time in his office, and he only had me working on mundane chores like setting up meetings with people he wanted to see, and getting him out of meetings with those he didn’t.

I did my best to make a mental note of the names and faces in case Lois asked who he was meeting. They all looked like genuine businessmen and women, but then I suppose sophisticated criminals would hardly go around in burglar outfits carrying bags marked ‘swag.’

Denton never did go to the hospital to get treatment for the stab wound at first. He’d initially lied and told me he had, but the wound kept opening up and bleeding onto his shirt. When the blood appeared during an important meeting, he finally agreed to go and have it looked at. It appeared he did just that, because the wound never came open again.

A few quiet days in the office came as welcome relief after seeing the fight in the nightclub, but I soon became antsy. Denton let me accompany him to almost every meeting except the off-site ones which he insisted on going to alone.

Those were the ones I needed to be a part of. It was in Denton’s interest that I go along. I wanted to get as much information on criminals other than Denton as possible. Anything to distract Lois from arresting him.

I knew there was a chance my judgment was impaired, but I just couldn’t see Denton as a criminal mastermind. He got his hands dirty occasionally, but that should be a job for the police, not the FBI.

Denton was even a good boss. I’d been told that personal assistants often got walked all over and worked into the ground, but Denton was nothing like that. He was courteous and respectful--albeit a little cheeky as well at times--and always brought me back a coffee or sandwich if he’d left the office for lunch.

I just couldn’t reconcile that man with the one in the FBI’s files. Who was right? The twenty-three year old, fresh out of college, or a federal organization with billions of dollars in resources?  

My brain answered the question, but I ignored it. Stupid brain.

“Care to go out for lunch?” Denton asked, suddenly appearing in front of me. I must have been daydreaming. Men Denton’s size shouldn’t be able to sneak up on me that easily.

“Sure,” I replied. “I could do with getting out of the office.”  

Hint, hint, take me with you next time you have a meeting off-site.

We headed out of the office and walked in the direction of a small Italian place that I knew was ludicrously expensive, and yet somehow popular. Denton apparently knew the owner, so we’d have no trouble getting a table.

As we left the office building, I noticed a woman in her mid-twenties standing around by the entrance playing with her phone. I wouldn’t have given her a second thought, but she was wearing a top that my mom had bought me for Christmas. One of the ones that was deemed too nice for me to now wear in my persona as a PA. Much to my disgust, she wore it better than me.

The woman looked up from her phone and stared at us as we walked passed. She could have been an ex-girlfriend--or one night stand--of Denton’s, but I could swear she was looking at me, not him.  

I wouldn’t have given it much thought, but I saw her again when we stopped outside the restaurant while Denton took a phone call.  

Part of the FBI’s basic training included learning how to tail people, even though it seemed like a skill more suited to 1980s Russia than modern day America. With all those cameras around, who needed to physically tail anyone these days? Hell, most people willingly shared their location via Twitter and Instagram. It wasn’t exactly difficult to keep tabs on people.  

This woman could have done with a few lessons in how to be subtle. When we stopped, she stopped, keeping about fifty feet back at all times. She even pretended to use her phone, but held it up in front of her face in a way that made it clear she was taking a picture. Not at all subtle.

She had to be after Denton, but if so, she was playing a dangerous game. She wasn’t working with the authorities, because we’d ordered all agencies to stay the hell out of our way. She might work for a another criminal organization, but she looked a little too clean cut for that. Mind you, so did I, and yet here I was about to go to lunch with a major criminal and alleged murderer.

“Lunch is off,” Denton said, as he hung up the phone, and made me look away from the woman following us.  

“Oh, okay. That’s fine. I brought a packed lunch to the office anyway. Shall we walk back?”

“You walk back. I have something I need to take care of urgently.”  

“Why don’t I come with you? I could do with the walk.”

“No,” Denton replied aggressively. “No, you need to go back to the office. You can’t be with me for this.”

“If you need to make another ‘collection’ then I assure you I can handle it.”

“Chloe, I’m not backing down on this. When you get back to the office, call my driver, Alan, and have him bring the car to the abandoned sugar factory near Twenty-First street as soon as possible.”

“Abandoned factory?” Nothing good ever happened in abandoned factories.  

“Yes. Can I trust you to do that?”  

I nodded and Denton walked away. The factory wasn’t that far, so he should have been able to walk back to the office afterwards. Why did he need the car?  

I needed to know what he was doing. Lois would only accuse me of going soft on him if I didn’t find a way to butt in.  

I called Alan when I got back to the office, but told him to swing by and pick me up first. There was no way I was staying at my desk when Denton was up to something far more interesting.  

I was going to find out what he was up to. Maybe then I would find out what sort of person he really was.