Revenge: A Bad Boy Romance (10 page)

“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.

-*-

The 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.

Dad always did have perfect timing. He called just as Chloe and I were about to go into the restaurant for lunch together. Five seconds later, and I would have set my phone to silent and enjoyed a nice lunch with my new assistant.

Perhaps the interruption was for the best. Other than Kara, I’d never taken any of my employees for lunch, unless it was as part of a big group.  

Inviting Chloe for an intimate meal at my favorite restaurant might be considered somewhat inappropriate behavior for a boss.  

The truth was, I just really wanted to spend more time with her without it being about work. The short time we’d spent together in the nightclub had been a lot of fun, and I’d met the real Chloe. At work she was my diligent assistant, seeing to my every need and desire, but that night she’d let her hair down a bit. I wanted to see more of that Chloe.

But then Dad called.

He had the location of the two Barton brothers, but he also had it on good authority that they would only be there for another hour at the most.

Chloe had wanted to tag along, which I found flattering, but there was no way I could let that happen. I’d already lost one woman I cared about due to my fucked up life, I wasn’t about to lose another. Not that I cared about Chloe as much as her. I couldn’t--we’d only just met.  

We’d quickly developed a bond, but that was just a work thing. Nothing else. I hoped to God there was nothing else. I couldn’t afford to get close to anyone again.  

I didn’t have much time, so I broke into a jog and didn’t stop until I rounded the corner and saw the old factory. The chain and padlock around the gate had already been broken, so I looked around to make sure the coast was clear and then walked through.  

My instinct was to head straight for the main door on the off chance I might take them by surprise, but something didn’t quite feel right about the whole situation. There was no noise; not a peep. The warehouse was empty, so I’d assumed the brothers were using it to interrogate a rival or kick the shit out of someone, but that would have been noisy.  

There were no cars outside either. The Barton brothers had a fleet of expensive cars and were rarely seen without them. They never usually worried about subtlety, so they wouldn’t hesitate to park six figures’ worth of motor vehicles outside a factory. You’d have to be stupid to steal a car belonging to the Bartons.  

This wasn’t right. The Bartons weren’t here. Surprisingly, I felt relieved. I had reconciled myself the thought of killing them as part of my plan to avenge Kara’s death, but I knew I wouldn’t take any pleasure from it. I knew I’d be haunted by their dead faces at night, like I had been with the other two men I’d killed.  

What kind of person could kill without being emotionally torn apart by it? I knew the answer to that question and he went by the name of Dad. Death was so… permanent. There were few people in this world who truly deserved it, but the Bartons could probably count themselves among that number.  

The Bartons must have left already, but I couldn’t go back to Dad without having at least checked the place out.

I pushed open the door which had been left ajar. I did a quick sweep of the ground floor, but no one had been here in awhile. The ground was still coated in dust and there were no footsteps.  

There was a workbench at the far end, so I grabbed a hammer--light enough to swing hard, but heavy enough to do some damage. I never carried weapons when I was at work, much to Dad’s annoyance, so his last minute call had caught me unprepared.

I headed up the stairs, moving slowly so as not to make any noise. If they were here, I wanted to maintain the element of surprise.  

The upper floor used to be used for storage and office space, so there were lots of narrow corridors and places to hide behind. That could work in my favor if I was careful.  

I kept close to the wall and headed down a corridor towards the front of the building. I stepped so slowly and carefully that I was barely moving, but my footsteps still made far more noise than I would have liked. Each tiny sound echoed around the walls, and to my overly paranoid ears it sounded as loud as a fire alarm.

Then I heard something. A cough.

It came from the office straight down the end of the hall. I stopped and listened. This time I heard what sounded like someone fidgeting on a chair. At least one of them was in there.

I ducked down so that he wouldn’t see me if he looked out of the window, and then hurried towards the office as quickly as I could, clenching the hammer so tightly in my hand that I nearly snapped the wooden handle in two.  

I was so focused on sneaking up on whoever was in that room, that I didn’t hear the other brother, until he sprung around the corner and lunged at me with a knife. What was it with people trying to stab me this week?

My hammer was in the wrong hand, but I managed to throw up the empty one and whack him on the wrist. It was enough to send the knife sailing harmlessly past me. It looked ungainly, but it worked.  

The Barton brothers looked similar, but I recognized the one with the knife as Kevin, the younger of the two by a few years.  

The other Barton brother, Eli, leapt out of the office and pulled a knife of his own, holding it out in front of him, as if daring me to come at him.