Dangerous Love

by Casey Clipper

  “I wonder why,” she snipped.

  “Listen, I know he didn’t answer your questions and actually left you with even more, but you can’t sit here and mourn him. Either figure it out or move on.” Kayla pegged her. “Don’t allow him to mess with your head.”

  “Too late.”

  “How did that happen?” Kayla squeaked. “How did you manage to let him do that to you?”

  She shrugged. “He’s really great in bed.”

  Kayla stared at her blankly for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Oh, Mackenzie, you’re too good for him or any other man.”

  “Grant’s still around,” she said. He’d asked her out again last night. She managed to put him off for a week, but he called her out on her game and stated he’d leave it alone…for now. Whatever that meant.

  Kayla murmured something under her breath that she didn’t catch.

  “What’s that?”

  “I just said that Grant is convenient for you. He’s a distraction from the real issue at hand. Derk. Until you figure out and sort through the mess he’s created in your head, no relationship will work out because you’ll continue to be strung along by his bad boy rugged badness that’s so naughty it’s consuming.” Kayla sighed. “I totally get it.”

  “At least one of us does.” Mackenzie closed her eyes. “You think I should tell Grant I’m not interested?”

  “No, not yet.” Kayla pulled up the internet. “He’s wealthy, has that bit of mystery to him, intelligent, and seems to know what he wants in life. Though, I don’t talk to him much. He tends to steer clear of the rest of us lowly bartenders.” She winked.

  "You’re suggesting I keep him on the backburner? Play with two guys?” Mackenzie asked incredulously.

  Kayla shrugged negligently. “You wouldn’t be the first woman to do so. And let’s face it, men play that game all the time. Why is it fair for them but not for us ladies? Hello, double standard.”

  Mackenzie was shocked by her girlfriend. Maybe it was Kayla’s young age that had her believing it was all right to toy with men like she suggested. Maybe it was a sliver of her family upbringing seeping into that thought process. Those people were less than honorable when it came to using people around them for personal gain. Anyone was free game. A quick memory scan, she realized Kayla always had a couple men available to her at a moment’s notice. Men flocked to Kayla because of her vibrant personality and Jane Mansfield looks. But Mackenzie couldn’t run her life that way. She didn’t have it in her to become a female player. She wanted stability, love, and commitment. Wealth and power meant nothing to her. She’d lived her entire life poor. She’d manage. It was the core values she sought.

  “Oh,” Kayla said, her eyes going wide. “Newspaper articles. Tons.”

  Mackenzie grabbed the pad off her best friend and started to click on links. Kayla scooted closer to read over her shoulder. Articles upon articles of Derk being arrested and questioned in possible links to murders popped up. Though all reports stated he’d never been charged in any crime.

  “What’s that one?” Kayla asked, pointing to another article.

  She opened the link and gasped as she started to read the report. Seventeen years ago, Derk had been a witness to his father killing his mother and then himself in a murder/suicide. According to the report, there had been a public squabble between the couple at a bar at two in the morning, when Mr. Forester found his wife huddled in a corner with two men. Witnesses stated they’d watched him physically drag his wife out of the place. Police reports then stated that when Derk Forester arrived home at three in the morning, he’d walked into the house just as his father shot his mother in the head while she slept in their bed. He then turned the gun on himself. No more information was provided.

  “Oh my God,” Mackenzie whispered.

  “And I thought my family was fucked up,” Kayla said.

  “Kayla,” she scolded.

  “I’m serious. I mean, that is fucked up, Mackenz.”

  It was messed up. What effect did witnessing his parents’ deaths have on him? What indelible mark did that leave upon him?

  “You said he said he worked for a Mr. Murphy. Search for him because those articles aren’t telling us much except that he’s always around when people are murdered,” Kayla said, her voice light, as if she thought it was a joke.

  “I don’t think this is funny.”

  “Didn’t say it was, but it’s no coincidence.”

  Personally she didn’t believe in coincidences. She believed that decisions and choices create the events that occurred around you. She was a firsthand walking, talking, breathing example.

  She typed in Derrick Murphy and they both gasped when a picture of the man loaded onto the pad.

  “Holy hell, talk about gorgeous.” Kayla gaped.

  Mackenzie clicked on the first link. It was a newspaper article on organized crime in the Northeast, and Mr. Murphy’s named frequented as a known leader in the world. But there was nothing actually linking the man to any crimes. Only speculation and educated guesses at best, over drugs, gambling, missing people, deaths of potential rivals or men who’d crossed him, and selling and distribution of weapons.

  When she clicked on another link, both women inhaled again.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Kayla whispered.

  Courtney Murphy stood, wearing all black and very pregnant, next to Derrick Murphy outside of a line of black SUVs and sedans. Next to her, the picture stated her cousin, Sean Millen, held a large black umbrella over her head to protect her from the rain. The picture went along with an article about Darren Murphy killed in a car bomb in the city. She was his widow.

  “Wait,” Kayla said, reading along with her. “Does that mean Courtney married his brother, Derrick?”

  “It has to,” Mackenzie answered, stunned. “Derk said that Mr. Murphy was having a get together to help take his wife’s mind off the death of her father.”

  Kayla whistled. “Wow. That’s…odd. I wonder if they were having an affair beforehand.”

  “Kayla!”

  Her girlfriend shrugged. “It’s not unheard of and more common than you’d think in the world of the rich.”

  She supposed that was true. The wealthy did live in an entirely different world than she did. Who knew what kind of debauchery happened behind those golden closed doors?

  “Back to Derk.” Kayla pointed to the device. “I think you have your answer. Derk is in deep with the mob.”

  She glanced down at the article then back up to Kayla, who nodded and grimaced. “Sorry.”

  Holy hell. She didn’t just pick a bad one this time, she chose the ultimate bad boy. How had she managed to outdo herself?

  24

  Derk was plastered. Had been for four days straight. After he’d dropped Mac off at her apartment, he’d gone home, opened up a new bottle of JD and started to drown himself. What a fuckin’ idiot he was, going all goddamn moony over a chick. He hated himself over the feeling of loss that consumed him.

  This morning, asshole Smith showed up, dragged his butt off the sofa and made him go on this ride-along to visit their mark’s house. They’d been seated in Smith’s expensive car for an hour. Though he managed to snag his near empty bottle of JD to keep him occupied. But that only lasted until the bottle emptied.

  Now he felt his drunken state starting to dissipate. How was that possible?

  “Fuck this shit,” Derk grumbled, climbed out of the car and stormed over to the home. He went straight to the front door, turned the knob…and what do you know, it was open. Maybe in a sober state, he would have thought twice about barging into the unlocked home of the unpredictable man they hunted. But since he wasn’t entirely coherent, no such luck.

  Derk circled every room in the house but found nothing. It was as if the place hadn’t been lived in in months. Dust covered every expensive piece of furniture. A staleness in the air burned his lungs.

  “Something isn’t right,” Smith said from behind him.

&n
bsp; Derk wheeled around to find Smith with his Glock drawn.

  “Don’t fucking tell me we’ve been watching an empty house for over a month,” he snarled.

  Smith shook his head. “Not possible. We’ve seen cars in the driveway.”

  He scanned the place again, stalked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Empty. He went to the garbage can. Not even a bag lined the can.

  “Fuck.” He raked a hand through his hair. They’d royally screwed this job up. How the hell had that happened? He and Smith were professionals. They didn’t make mistakes. They always had their head in the game….Mac.

  Shit.

  His mind had been so focused on getting into her panties that he allowed everything to become secondary. They should have seen weeks ago that the man had been playing them. That he’d been sending diversions to the house to keep them occupied and on a false trail, waiting for him to pop out of his hole. C.D. was probably so far underground they’d never catch him until he decided he wanted to be found.

  Murphy was going to have their asses.

  ***

  Nothing frightened Derk.

  He wasn’t afraid of his immanent death. Getting shot? Been there done that. Looked down many barrels pointed at his forehead. He’d once faced a group of men who intended to beat the hell of out him until he bled to death. Walked away from that with just a cut over his eyebrow that left him with a nice, tiny war wound. Knife fight? Strolled away without a scratch. Hell, he didn’t even mind catching the flu. But seated in front of Derrick Murphy whose features turned dark and furious as he confessed their fuck up, made him rethink that there may be something he should fear.

  Torture.

  Because Mr. Murphy just promised to do things to him that he didn’t know were physically capable of happening.

  “Why?” Murphy barked.

  Derk glanced to his friend, who remained mute but unnervingly calm. Derk couldn’t answer Murphy without confessing about Mackenzie. If he came clean about his obsession, then he’d have to open up about all the other bullshit that occurred over the past couple of months. None of it focusing on the job he’d been hired to do.

  Murphy leaned back in his chair, studying him. A king on his throne. A leader who’d behead his minions without losing sleep. Derk knew the man well enough to know Murphy was plotting. Always one step ahead.

  Jack stepped up next to Murphy with a folder in his hand and handed it to the boss. But the man never touched it. Instead, Jack laid it on the desk. Derk refused to take the bait and look at the folder. Every move was calculated. Purposeful.

  “I should pass this off to someone capable,” Murphy said smoothly. “But all that would do is let both of you off the hook.”

  “We’d seen cars in the driveway. Someone was there recently, except the inside of the house looks like no one has lived there in months,” Smith said.

  “That’s because no one has been there in months,” Jack said from the corner. “Only mice laid out to toy with the cat. If Derk had been doing his job, he would have known that.”

  His head fell back as he let out a frustrated groan and ran a hand down his face.

  “When the hell was the last time you showered?” Murphy demanded.

  He shrugged. When was the last time he’d cleaned up?

  “Get the hell out of my office and fix this mess. If you don’t have my money and that man in front of me within a week, you’ll take his place,” Murphy said coolly.

  Which meant, Derk and Smith would be seated in some sort of steel chair, screaming for them to stop whatever they were doing to torture their bodies.

  “Smith, go toss him into the shower.” Jack chuckled.

  His partner didn’t say a word as they left the office, or when they rode in the car back to his place, or when he stepped into the house with him. It was when Smith turned to leave, he silently clocked Derk across the jaw. Derk flew back to the floor and remained there for an unknown period of time after Smith stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

  ***

  The next day, deciding to forget about his troubles with Murphy, Derk knocked on Mackenzie’s apartment door. He was sick of the way her absence fucked with his head. Sick of the way he’d screwed up his work because of his obsession with her. Sick of this high school bullshit that they both needed to stop.

  Kayla, her roommate, swung the door open, hands on hips. “She’s not available…for you.”

  Derk brushed past her and straight back to Mackenzie’s bedroom, despite blondie’s protests. Without knocking, he burst through her door. He went to flick on the lights but stopped. It was noon, a bright, warm day outside, yet her bedroom looked like she was hunkered down for the winter.

  “Mac,” he barked.

  She jumped. “Derk?”

  “What the hell are you doing? Are you sleeping? You don’t stay in bed past ten.”

  “You need to leave.”

  “Fuck that.” He flipped on the light, stormed over to the bed, and tossed his body onto the mattress.

  “Derk, you need to leave.” Mackenzie jumped out of bed and pulled on a pair of lounge pants, much to his displeasure. “I won’t have anything to do with you any longer.”

  He titled his head. “You don’t really get a say in that, Mac.”

  All because he refused to answer her inquiries. She needed to learn to get past that.

  She picked up her phone. “Please don’t make me call the police.”

  What the hell? She was serious?

  “What’s going on, Mac?” He sat up and crossed his hands behind his head as he watched her closely. Those blue eyes were red-rimmed like she’d been crying or was exhausted. Her hands started to tremble as she held her phone. His gaze bounced from her hands, to her eyes, and back.

  “I just need you to leave and never come back, Derk,” she said meekly.

  “You gonna tell me why?”

  She shook her head and bit her bottom lip. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

  A sudden, sharp pain developed in his chest. Again. That was the second time since Mackenzie came into his life he developed that awful sensation. “Explain yourself, Mac. If you can give me a good enough reason, I’ll walk out that door, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

  He watched the subtle fall in her features. He didn’t understand what the hell was going on, except that something was up.

  Inch by inch, Mackenzie made her way to the door.

  “Mac,” he warned.

  “You work for the mob.”

  Oh. So that’s what she knew. “And?”

  Her mouth popped open. “You’ve been arrested for possible murder.”

  He held up a finger and shook his head. “I’ve been brought in for questioning regarding a couple murders.”

  “Do you murder people?”

  “Do you really want to ask that question?” he challenged. Not that he’d ever answer her.

  Those beautiful blues went wide. “That’s a yes.”

  “That’s a, ‘I’m not entertaining that dumbass question.’”

  “You need to leave, Derk. I can’t be with someone who’s in the mob. Who kills people, sells drugs, or whatever other illegal activities you’re into.” She opened up the bedroom door and pointed to the exit.

  Wow, the moxie it took for her to show him the door wasn’t lost on him. Mackenzie wasn’t a confrontational woman. She was a peacemaker. Someone who wanted everything nice and tidy in her world. She needed it. She was a woman who had nothing while growing up and relished what little she managed to obtain, whether material objects or a sense of peace. It was obvious in every tiny action she made. Every word spoken. She was phenomenal.

  But she didn’t realize or know what she was throwing away. What he could give her. What he could provide for her. He could give her something she’d never had. And he knew how to handle this. Something he’d never wanted to offer to a woman until now. Because he loathed his days without Mackenzie front and ce
nter.

  Slowly he climbed out of bed and went to her, towering her small stature. He reached up and stroked her high cheekbone. “Be ready in one hour. I’ll be back to pick you up. I’ll introduce you to the people you believe are killers, drug dealers, and whatever craziness is running through that beautiful head. Afterward, if you want to send me walking, fine. You’ll never see me again. But only if you go with me. If you choose not to, well, then I won’t go away.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “You’re not twelve. Life isn’t fucking fair. Of all people, you get that. Get dressed and I’ll see you in an hour.” He planted a chaste kiss on her lips, then left the bedroom.

  “Asshole!” he heard her scream behind him as he walked out the apartment door.

  He turned and yelled back. “You need to do way better than that, baby.”

  He smiled as he jogged down the stairs, a spring in his step. Girly-girl thought she knew him and his people. She was clueless. Mackenzie never had a family. It was something that heavily weighed on her. He’d exploit that weakness by calling in the big guns. A woman who’d do anything for him. A woman who owed him a favor. Her name…Courtney Murphy.

  25

  There was only one reason why Mackenzie went with Derk’s demand, to assure his permanent exit from her life. Well, at least that’s the mantra she continued to repeat in her head. Honestly, she had no real hope he’d stick to his bargain. But she had to give it a shot.

  After learning of Derk’s career choice, she couldn’t understand what he wanted with her. She wasn’t the type to frequent mob circles. She wasn’t mistress material or a hard-ass. Murder, drug or illegal gun selling wasn’t something she condoned. Why did he continue to pursue her? They had nothing in common. Well, except that they were both without a family. But at least he grew up with his parents.

  Derk led her to the front door of what looked like a modern mansion that’d been plopped down in the middle of a suburban community. He opened the door and ushered her inside. Laughter and soft music filled the sleekly decorated home. Dark and light greys and navy blue colored schemes, along with polished silver, fine art, and dark cheery wood furniture screamed wealth.