I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself, before opening the door wide enough to talk to him. He reached a hand in and pushed the door open, sending me staggering back in the process.
“We’re not having this conversation in the hall.”
“We’re not having this conversation at all,” I replied. “If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Watch me,” I said, before grabbing my phone and storming into the bedroom. I faked a call to the police, but Denton didn’t leave.
I heard Denton sit down on the sofa. “Come out and talk to me,” he yelled. “I just want to apologize for the way I acted tonight.”
I sat on the bed and rubbed my temples with my fingers. I knew if I went out there he would be able to win me round, but I didn’t want it to be that easy. How would I ever be able to trust him again? How would he ever be able to trust me when he found out who I was?
“Chloe,” Denton called out again, this time with a hint of confusion in his voice. “Would you say your grandmother was familiar with computers before she died?”
That was not a question I’d been expecting, but it was at least easier than having to listen to him pretending to be sorry.
“No,” I replied. “I don’t think she ever even went online. Why?”
Just then, Denton appeared in the doorway holding the necklace. The necklace that was supposed to belong to my grandmother.
Denton looked angry. Really angry.
“I only ask,” he said slowly, each word coming out with venom. “Because your grandmother's necklace appears to have a built in USB connector.”
At some point, I really should have prepared a back up story in case anyone ever discovered that part of the necklace. Too late now.
“Oh, that’s weird. She must have lied to me about how old it was. I expect she bought it at a sale and didn’t even know what it was.”
Denton just stared at me. I couldn’t look him in the eyes after that lie. It was pathetic. I should have just told him the truth. It’s not like we could be together now anyway. He might as well hear my side of it.
“Denton, I need to--”
“It’s true, isn’t it? James said you were an undercover agent, but I just laughed at him. You’ve been spying on my this entire time.”
“It’s not how it looks,” I pleaded. I wanted to go over there and wrap my arms around him. We could both admit our mistakes and move on. But right now, Denton wouldn’t let me anywhere near him, and to be honest, I couldn’t blame him.
“All this has just been you trying to gather evidence. What did you hope to achieve by fucking me? Was that to gain my trust? Or do you just like fucking the men you’re investigating?”
Now I wanted to walk up there and slap him around the face. I would have done if I’d have thought for a second he’d even feel it.
“I’ve been gathering evidence on your father,” I said, trying to sound like an FBI agent, and not a heartbroken teenager. “I haven’t given them any information about you. Nothing they didn’t already know. And everything that happened between us was real. It was even more real--I wasn’t supposed to fall for you, but I couldn’t help it.”
“So what now? Are you going to arrest me? I’m sure you have plenty of evidence to use against me.”
“I’m not going to arrest you. I’d never do that. I’ve been trying to keep you out of prison. Why do you think I tried to stop you killing Ruddy?”
“At least that explains why you were so against it. I would have thought someone who’d lost their father to…” I looked down at the floor between my feet, unable to support the biggest lie I’d told Denton. “He didn’t get killed by cops, did he?”
I shook my head. “He got killed by a gang. Dad had a gambling problem. He often borrowed money from people like… well, people like you and your Dad. He struggled to repay the debts, until one day…”
“Someone like my dad decided enough was enough?”
I nodded. “That’s why I went along with this assignment in the first place. I thought I was helping.”
“Helping who?” Denton snapped.
“I don’t know. Helping make the world a better place? It sounds silly, but I thought I could help.”
I fought back the tears because I didn’t want Denton to see me cry, but the only way I could do that was to get angry. I still had a right to be angry. Yes, I had betrayed Denton. But I’d done that before we’d even met. Denton had betrayed me after we fell for each other. That was worse, wasn’t it? Or at least just as bad.
We should be even.
But trust didn’t work like that. You couldn’t trust someone just because you’d both betrayed each other equally.
“You should leave,” I said softly. “Please go.”
“Oh I’m leaving,” Denton replied. “I’m going before say something incriminating and end up in jail. Should I expect a visit from the FBI shortly?”
I shook my head. “I told you, I didn’t give them anything they didn’t already know. Believe it or not, I genuinely wanted to help you.”
Denton didn’t say anything else. He left the apartment and slammed the door behind him.
The smell of the food from the kitchen now made me nauseous instead of hungry. We were supposed to be sharing a nice meal--likely after some time in the bedroom--but now it just reminded me of a man I needed to forget.
I genuinely didn’t care about my job anymore. It seemed pointless and irrelevant. I did want Keiran to end up in prison, but not at the expense of Denton’s own freedom.
I suspected the FBI had more motivation to bring down Denton than his father, even though his father was the one guilty of serious crimes. Denton was photogenic and a well known figure in the city. He reveled in the limelight. Catching him would be a huge coup for the FBI and for Lois.
Perhaps I was being unfair, but I found it impossible to care about the case anymore. Capturing a guilty man didn’t make up for imprisoning an innocent one.
I hadn’t been in this apartment long, but I’d made it feel like home. The furniture all belonged to the FBI, so they’d use it for the next poor agent tasked with going undercover in Chicago.
I sighed and started packing up some of my clothes, but the suitcase wasn’t even a third full when I finally broke down in tears.
Without this job, I never would have met Denton in the first place, but the job had now torn us apart, and there was no way back. Some things were unforgivable.
We were both as bad as each other, but Denton would move on easily enough. He had women lining up for him. I couldn’t move on that quickly.
I picked up my phone to email Lois. I couldn’t face a phone call, so a resignation email would have to suffice. I wasn’t cut out to be an FBI agent.
Someone was going to die tonight.
Roddy was my first choice. If not him, then the man who actually did the deed and killed Kara. If not him, then someone else.
Hell, there was a good chance I would be the one to die. So be it. Right now, that didn’t seem like a bad idea, so long as I took down one of the Bartons with me.
I went straight to Dad’s office. It was late, but he’d be there.
If you wanted to kill someone, Dad was the best person to talk to. He had a mental list of people he needed disappearing. Maybe I could actually be useful to him for once.
“Well look who it is,” Dad said as I walked in. Uncle James was there as well. “I see you’ve had a busy evening.”
“What do you mean?” He couldn’t possibly know about Chloe already.
“I heard from my contacts that you tried to kill Roddy Barton. Broke into his house and shot one of his guards.”
“Word gets around fast,” I remarked.
“Nothing happens in this city without me knowing about it,” Dad replied arrogantly.
Shame you didn’t know Kara was going to get kidnapped and murdered, you lying piece of shit.
“We have a mole in t
heir organization,” James said. “A couple actually. I guess you have a few contacts of your own, or you never would have gone there. Roddy got word of your visit and left about five minutes before you got there. His team even set a trap which you walked right into.”
“You stupid son of bitch,” Dad snarled at me.
“Dad, you do realize that when you call me… you know what, nevermind. I’ve been after Roddy for months and I’m done waiting. You have contacts--tell me where he is.”
“I don’t know. If I knew, I’d kill him myself.”
I heard a woman in high heels approaching, and turned to see a long legged brunette in a short skirt that barely qualified as a belt, and a top so low cut her breasts were practically falling out.
She was just my type. Or at least, she used to be.
“I’m leaving,” Dad said, standing up and walking out with the girl who must be younger than me. I never understood why Mom put up with all his mistresses and affairs, but she’d never been all that bothered by it.
“Your dad really doesn’t know about Roddy,” James said, once Dad was out of earshot. “He’s been distracted lately, spending more time with women than running the business.”
“If I ran this place, he’d be dead already.”
“I don’t doubt it.” James paused, cutting the end off a cigar with a knife and then lighting it. He took a long puff and then added “I have information. About Kara’s killer.”
“You do? Tell me. I need to know.”
“I can’t be certain at this point, but if I’m right… God, if I’m right, we’re all in trouble.”
I frowned. “Why would we be in trouble? Whoever it was, I’ll kill them.”
“You’ll need to get in line. I think the killer is one of our own men.”
I snorted and dismissed the suggestion with a wave of the hand. “That’s nonsense. The men are all scared of Dad, and they have every reason to be. None of them would ever step out of line like that.”
“I know,” James said, looking as puzzled as I was. “It came as a surprise to me as well.”
“Maybe I’m underestimating Roddy. Maybe he’s worse than Dad.”
“Maybe… Or maybe Roddy wasn’t the one who gave the order. The more I think about it, the less sense it makes for Roddy to take this step. The man is usually subtle. His kids aren’t, but he hates that. No, Roddy doesn’t do his own dirty work.”
“You’re saying I have an enemy out there I don’t even know about?”
“At the very least, someone wants to upset you, get you riled up. Who would want to do that?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find him.”
“Need any help?”
“No. This I need to take care of this myself. Give me whatever information you have. I’m going to find him.”
James handed me a few pieces of paper with names and numbers of his contacts written down.
“You need an alibi?”
I nodded. “I’m going to handle this tonight. Kara’s murderer won’t live to see the sun rise.”
Denton apparently had no idea I saw his emails. As his assistant, I had complete access to his inbox and calendar, a point he forgot when he sent an email to the IT department telling them to revoke my access first thing in the morning.
I don’t know why it hurt so much to read that email. It’s not like I’d planned to go into work the next morning. The email just made everything seem so final, like how giving instructions to a divorce attorney might make it clear the marriage was over.
I hadn’t been planning to snoop on Denton’s emails. I only opened my email account to go through all the ones he’d sent me since I started to delete anything that might incriminate him. Denton was usually careful about what he included in emails, but the code his family liked to use was nowhere near as subtle as they thought it was.
I also deleted the inappropriate emails we sent each other. Then I went through the Deleted Items folder and cleared them all out of there.
The FBI would find all these emails easily enough if they went digging, but I wanted to at least make them work for it. At least this way, the next PA he hired wouldn’t be able to find them.
Eventually I got the end of my emails and had cleared out all the deleted ones. My email address was a rather impersonal “[email protected]” and the same address had been used by Kara. I could read all her emails.
Just seeing her final words on the screen of my phone sent shivers down my spine. I had no intention of reading them--that felt like unforgivable invasion of privacy--but something caught my eye as I was closing the email app.
The last email she received was on the day of her death and it was in the deleted folder even though it was flagged as important.
I’d received loads of “important” emails while I’d been working at the company, but most of them looked anything but urgent. They might have been to the right people, but to me they looked the same as all the others. Financial info, getting signatures on contracts, that kind of thing.
This email looked different than the others. There was nothing in the subject line for one thing, which made it look like the email had been sent in a hurry. Even without opening the email, I could read the first few words.
It’s not what it looks like. Meet me. I can explain. I’ll be at
I opened the email and read the rest of the message.
57th and Aberdeen Street. Just don’t tell Denton until I’ve had a chance to tell you my side of the story.
I’d never been to that part of town, but I knew it well enough from the FBI’s file. Kara had been killed around there. She’d gone to meet the sender of the email, and had died shortly after.
Another shiver spread down my spine, quickly followed by another. I couldn’t stop shaking.
The email address of the sender was one of the company’s generic email addresses, so I couldn’t tell who had sent it. I scrolled to the bottom of the email chain to read Kara’s original email.
I know why you won’t sign the contracts. What’s going on? Does Denton know?
If the other person could sign contracts for the company, they had to be fairly important, but I didn’t know any of the directors or officers other than Denton.
There was something else bothering me though. Something that had been bothering me for a while.
I needed to call Lois. This was not going to be fun.
“Chloe, what the hell has been going on?” Lois said as she answered the phone.
She was as bad as my mother. Does no one say hello anymore?
“Lois, I’m so sorry. Listen, I don’t have time to explain right now, but I need you to tell me something.”
“You had better find the time, Chloe, because we need to have a serious talk.”
“We will. But this is important. Life or death.”
Lois sighed. “Okay, what is it?”
“You said we had a contact at the company, right? Someone who helped me get the job in the first place. Who was it?”
Lois only had a first name to go on, but it was enough. She was only confirming what deep down I think I already knew.
I’d found Kara’s killer, but I might be too late.
I called Denton, but no answer. He needed to know otherwise he might walk right into a trap.
If I didn’t find Denton in the next few hours, I might never see him alive again.
Even the toughest men cracked eventually if you applied the right kind of pressure. I wasn’t proud of the methods I used, but they got results.
Three hours of hunting down leads and interrogating men led me to the only possible conclusion.
It was a conclusion I should have reached a long time ago, but it was so terrifying, so horrid, that I didn’t want to admit it to myself.
I knew who killed Kara.
There was one man who’d wanted her dead all along. He’d seen her as a distraction, an annoyance, someone I shouldn’t be bothering with.
Tonight I’d broken bones and seen
my fair share of blood, but none of that made me feel as sick as the realization that I knew who the killer was.
Dad.
It was so fucking obvious that I couldn’t see what had been right under my nose the entire time. No wonder he hadn’t wanted me tracking down her killer.
My own father.
Kara had actually liked him. She didn’t like who he was, or what he did, but she respected what he had achieved. And I thought he’d liked her. Maybe he had once. Dad was the sort of person who would buy you a beer one minute, and stick a knife in your back the next.
He’d stuck a knife in Kara. More than once. He’d killed her. He’d done it personally, according to the men I’d interrogated.
Tonight he would find out what it felt like to get a knife in your back.
James told me that Dad was spending the evening at a strip club with his mistress. She worked there apparently, and Dad often spent the evenings hanging out in the back room. That sounded like exactly his idea of a good time.
I drove over to the club, and arrived after it had closed. Dad’s car was still in the parking lot. The front door was unlocked and there were a few cleaners milling around picking up bottles and glasses.
“Leave,” I commanded. I didn’t raise my voice, but everyone quickly took the hint anyway and fled out of the door. If Dad was here often, they were probably used to scenes of violence, and the minimum wage they were paid wasn’t worth the risk of catching a stray bullet.
“Get out here, Dad,” I yelled at the top of my voice. “You and I need to have a little talk.”
I pulled out my gun and felt the weight of it in my hand. The weight put a lot of people off, but I preferred a heavy gun; it reminded you how powerful it could be. When a gun weighed the same as a child’s water pistol, it was too easy to treat it like one.
I heard movement from backstage, and then a door opened.
“What the hell is going--”
I raised my gun and fired.
-*-
“Wakey, wakey, Dad,” I said, as I poured a glass of cold water over him.
He slowly came to, and then immediately wished he hadn’t.
Revenge: A Bad Boy Romance Page 16