Bad Boy's Honor: An MMA Bad Boy Romance

by Ashe, Jessica

  Denton was here.

  Everyone said good morning to him as he walked past, but they were tense, and nervous greetings, as opposed to heartfelt messages. He returned a few mumbled replies, but looked like he’d rather just ignore everyone.

  I reminded myself that not all the employees here were guilty of any fraudulent behavior. A few of them had to be involved in helping cook the books, but most people were just going about their jobs, clueless to the bigger picture.

  I now realized why no one had batted an eyelid at Denton’s bloody knuckles yesterday. Denton scared people. You didn’t ask questions of someone like Denton; you kept your head down and hoped he didn’t notice you. That wouldn’t be possible for me.

  Denton headed straight towards his office, looking straight above my head as if I weren’t there. My heart rate increased the closer he got. I wasn’t scared of him. I didn’t feel in any immediate physical danger, although if he found out I worked for the FBI….

  Denton walked straight passed me and into his office. I’d been holding my breath without even realizing it, but now I could relax slightly.

  “Chloe?” Denton yelled out impatiently from his office.

  I grabbed a pen and paper, ready to take my first set of instructions. Apparently assistants never went anywhere without a pen and paper, because you never knew when you were going to have to get a random demand from the boss.

  “Good morning, Mr. Russell,” I said, with highly exaggerated enthusiasm as I walked into his office.

  He looked up at me and for a brief second he looked like he’d seen a ghost. He was thinking of Kara.

  “Morning,” he muttered. “Call me Denton. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, so there you won’t be able to keep up the formalities forever.”

  “Okay, Denton.”

  “We need to do ‘first day’ stuff.”

  “I’ve already had a tour of the building from human resources,” I replied. “I’m all set up with email, and I already have access to your calendar.”

  “That’s not what I meant. Close the door.”

  I closed the door and took a seat when he motioned for me to sit down. The second the door was closed, the room felt more intimate, as if we were about to do something we shouldn’t. For the second time in the space of a few minutes, my heart rate sped up, but this time I was excited, not scared. I was going to get confidential information; perhaps not now, but at some point soon I would get the information we needed to put his father behind bars.

  And Denton would join him. For some reason, that didn’t excite me as much. He deserved to be in prison as well. I knew that. I’d read the file. But he seemed too… charming. Even with his moody demeanor, and a day’s worth of rough stubble around his face, he still looked too smooth to be a master criminal. I suppose that was the point. He had the perfect disguise.

  “Always close the door when you come into my office,” Denton explained slowly. “I entrust you with a lot of confidential information--more than I would like to be honest--but that doesn’t mean I want everyone in the office hearing about it.”

  “Of course,” I replied, trying to sound casual, as if I didn’t really care about the juicy secrets behind a large criminal organization.

  “First of all, I should explain that you will have to work a lot of hours. I’ll often require you to stay late in the office and you’ll even accompany to meetings after hours. You’ll be paid double for all overtime. Triple for hours worked on weekends.”

  “That’s very generous,” I replied honestly. That money would all go straight back to the FBI, and they wouldn’t bother with any common courtesy like paying me extra for the overtime I would need to do as part of this operation.

  “You might not think that after a few eighty-hour weeks, but I appreciate the enthusiasm. Now then, we need to talk about confidentiality.”

  “I don’t have a problem keeping secrets,” I said straight away. “Unless you expressly say otherwise, I’ll keep everything between the two of us.”

  Just me, you, and a few hundred people at the FBI.

  “Don’t make that promise lightly,” Denton said seriously. “This isn’t a normal job, like the one you had at the Fortune 500 company. You won’t just be keeping secrets about the company’s financials and new products.”

  “All secrets are the same to me. I don’t try to decide which ones are important and which ones aren’t.”

  “Good.” Denton leaned back in his chair and stared at me, just like he had in the interview. Was he thinking of Kara again? That was the plan, but for some reason I wanted him to see me for me now.

  Denton didn’t seem perturbed by the silence, but it freaked me out. There’d never been a lot of silence in my house as a child--although I would have preferred that to my parents arguing--so I didn’t know how to handle it.

  “Is there anything I can do for you now?” I asked. “Would you like a coffee?”

  “No.” Another silence fell between us, but this time Denton eventually broke it. “What do you know about the businesses I run?”

  “I’ve read the information on the website,” I replied. “So I know some of the companies you work for, but that’s about it.”

  I’d also studied the accounts, and my computer at home had PowerPoint slides with charts showing all the companies under the control of Denton and his father. In total, they owned about fifteen, and most of them were conveniently small enough to not require audited accounts.

  “I own companies other than this one,” Denton said. I tried to look mildly surprised. “We have some nightclubs and restaurants in the portfolio.”

  Places that deal in cash. How surprising.

  “That sounds fun,” I said innocently.

  “They’re hard work. The entertainment space is competitive. We have to do everything possible to stay one step ahead of the competition. Things can get… violent. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I nodded. I had to walk a fine line between appearing accepting of Denton’s business practices, and being too nonchalant about it. He might get suspicious if the sweet looking young lady opposite him showed a complete disregard for violence.

  “Will I be put in any danger?” I asked. That seemed like the question an assistant would ask in these circumstances, but I was curious anyway. I wanted danger. Danger meant dodgy dealings which meant evidence. I needed the danger.

  “No,” Denton replied immediately and aggressively. “Never. I will not let any harm come to you.”

  Now he’s definitely thinking of Kara. She’d been his assistant and lover. Now she was dead.

  “In that case, I don’t see any problem,” I said. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve turned a blind eye to that kind of thing.”

  Denton raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Your former employers don’t really seem like the type.”

  “Not them. My father. He didn’t always keep within the letter of the law. Frankly, he wasn’t always working with the same alphabet.”

  Denton smiled. That was the first time I’d seen him smile. I’d remember. In the space of a second, he went from being a hard-nosed, serious criminal, to looking like a regular human being. Well, not ‘regular’ perhaps. He was still densely packed with muscle, and few people on the planet looked that damn good, but still, he looked kind of normal.

  “Good,” Denton said eventually. “In that case, you can accompany me to one of my nightclubs this evening. I have business to take care of there and I’ll need your help to keep me on task.”

  “Certainly. Should I go home and get changed first? Is there a dress code?”

  “What you’re wearing is… perfect. In the meantime, go through my emails and get yourself caught up. Make sure I have all appointments in my calendar. I don’t think I have anything until this evening, but who the hell knows?”

  After getting a few more instructions, I left and went back to my desk. Denton was throwing me in at the deep end, but that was just fine with me. The qu
icker I got the evidence I needed, the quicker I could arrest his father.

  And Denton. I had to keep reminding myself of that. If Denton’s father went down then so would Denton.

  But that was a good thing. Wasn’t it?

  Tonight was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. In fact, make that three birds. I had some business to take care of at the club on 43rd Street, and I could test out Chloe’s fortitude for violence at the same time.

  I already knew she’d pass the test. I saw steel in her eyes. She didn’t cower easily, and wasn’t just some pretty young woman sheltered from the realities of life.

  Finally, tonight would be a test of Chloe’s loyalty. I had less confidence in that part, although the fact that her dad had lived on the wrong side of the law at least meant she probably wouldn’t go running to the police at the first sign of violence.

  Despite saying she didn’t need to go home and get changed, I did end up letting her leave just after lunch. There wasn’t much for her to do yet, and we wouldn’t be going to the club until about ten o’clock at night. I would need her to work long days at some point, but I could at least go a little easy on her the first night.

  Once in the nightclub, I made the rounds talking to the staff and making sure things were running smoothly. The nightclub ran at a small loss, but that was more than offset by its ability to legitimize other funds that ran through the place.

  I kept an eye out for Chloe, whom I’d told to head to the VIP area when she arrived. The place was already packed, and the strobe lights didn’t exactly make it easy to find people.

  When I stopped to think about it, I couldn’t quite believe I owned a nightclub. This one was in my name and my name only, but I hadn’t wanted it--Dad just insisted I run the place and that included owning it. He made it sound like a generous gift, but all he was doing was making sure I was just as implicated in his illegal dealings as he was. I had no escape, even if I wanted one.

  I’d never liked nightclubs. The second I went near a dance floor, women flocked towards me and started not so subtly grinding their asses against me as if rubbing their butts on my thighs was supposed to turn me on. The worst thing was, no matter what the general public thought, you could not tell how good a woman was in bed by the way she danced. That had let me down on a number of occasions.

  A far more reliable indicator was the way a woman engaged you in conversation. I had a perfect success rate in predicting who would be good in bed by looking at the way they reacted to jokes and keeping an eye out for those with a cheeky sense of humor. One thing was for certain, if all a woman did was talk about herself then I would run a mile. That always ended badly.

  A delicate hand touched my upper back to get my attention. I almost shook it off assuming that a customer was just trying to squeeze passed to get to the bar, but I heard a faint “Denton” over the deep base of the music.

  I turned round and saw Kara. Shit. No, not Kara. Chloe. God damn it, she looked the spitting image of her sometimes. But Kara had been a bit of a tomboy at heart; she’d certainly never dressed this sexy.

  Chloe had pulled out all the stops tonight. The professional-looking assistant I’d sent home at lunchtime had been replaced by a seductive young woman in a halterneck top with a low cut, revealing a generous portion of her firm breasts, with a short skirt and ‘fuck me’ boots.

  When I remembered to look up at her eyes, I saw the same timid and shy young woman that had been there earlier today, but the outfit was of someone a lot more confident. She’d be brave to wear that on a night out with friends, let alone with her boss.

  Men were already eying her up, and she’d noticed. The more eyes on her, the more uncomfortable she became. Did she not normally dress this way? If not, why had she tonight?

  Oh God, please don’t say she’s hoping to hook up with me. That can’t happen. Not with an assistant. Not after Kara. But she is beautiful. I can’t take my eyes off her.

  “Hi,” she said with a smile. I couldn’t actually hear her, but you didn’t have to be a genius at lip-reading to figure it out.

  I smiled back and told her to follow me. I pushed my way through the crowd creating a gap for her to walk through, but then turned back when I noticed she had stopped following me.

  I retraced my steps until I found her with trying to politely reject a man who wouldn’t get out of her way. He looked absolutely wasted, but had a friend with him who looked relatively sober and had the decency to look embarrassed by his friend’s behavior.

  “Go. Now,” I said to the man in Chloe’s way. We were further away from the speakers now, so he could hear my message and even if he couldn’t, my body language made it perfectly clear.

  “Come on, Sam,” the man’s friend said, trying to pull him away by the arm. The friend looked suitably scared of me, but Sam must have been off his tits because he wasn’t frightened. You’d have to be drunk, drugged up, or just stupid not to be scared of me when I’m angry. And now I was angry.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Sam responded.

  I didn’t particularly want to destroy someone in the middle of my own nightclub, but he had three seconds to walk away or that was exactly what would happen.

  One.

  “Sam, let’s leave,” the friend pleaded.

  “I’m just offering to buy her a drink,” Sam replied.

  Two.

  “Don’t you know who that is? Let’s go.”

  Sam turned to have a proper look at me. He didn’t recognize me, but he did quickly figure out that I was not someone he wanted to have a fight with.

  Thre--

  “Okay,” Sam said, holding up his hands. “Christ, I just wanted to talk.”

  “You okay?” I asked as the two of them walked away.

  Chloe nodded and smiled, but I could see she was a little shaken up. She wasn’t used to being hit on, which seemed remarkable given how stunning she looked tonight.

  Chloe took a seat in the VIP section, while I had a quick word with a few of the security guys.

  “You see those two over there?” I asked, pointing out Sam and his friend, who were now looking around for their next target. Wallace nodded. “Get them out of here. If the one in the blue shirt accidentally trips and falls on the concrete then no harm, no foul.”

  “Got it boss.”

  Wallace walked off, and I ordered some drinks to be delivered to the table which arrived promptly after.

  “Vodka tonic okay?” I asked. I’d ordered Kara’s favorite drink without even thinking about it. I probably looked like one of those assholes who ordered food for the lady in a restaurant without even asking.

  “I shouldn’t be drinking,” Chloe replied. “I’m technically working.”

  “One drink won’t hurt.”

  Chloe took the drink reluctantly and sipped at it. I saw her wince as she tasted it.

  “You don’t like it, do you?” I asked.

  “No, sorry. I can’t stand vodka.”

  I laughed. “You can just tell me if you don’t like something.”

  “I didn’t want to seem rude.”

  How could a girl who was fairly blasé towards violence, not have the confidence to tell me she doesn’t like to drink vodka?

  I called a barman back over and Chloe ordered a white wine. I tried to warn her that the wine wasn’t exactly of the best quality here, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  She drunk half the glass surprisingly quickly; she must be nervous. I turned the conversation to business.

  “Do you know why we’re here tonight?” I asked.

  “You’re keeping an eye on the business?” Chloe guessed.

  “Not really, although I do that while I’m here as well. The real point is to be seen in public and give people the opportunity to talk to me with a degree of privacy. Some customers use it as a time to pay off debts.”

  “Why don’t they just make an appointment with your office?”

  I smiled. “Let’s just say that some of my customers
look a bit too undressed to appear in the office. Many of them are too undressed for a nightclub as well to be honest. I’m here every Tuesday night, so my clients know where they can find me. I am expecting some of those clients tonight.”

  “Okay. Oh, hang on a second.” Chloe picked up her purse and pulled out a small notebook and a pen.

  I watched curiously as she wrote the time, date, and location at the top of the first page.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Taking notes,” she replied innocently.

  “Chloe?”

  “Yes?”

  “Put the pen and paper away.”

  “I have an awful memory,” she responded.

  “That’s fine. In fact, I’d rather you forgot these meetings. I certainly don’t want you writing them down.”

  “Oh. Oohhhh,” she said again, as the realization finally hit.

  A cute grin spread across her face. I was grateful for it. She looked completely different--and not at all like Kara--when she smiled.

  “Like I said before, discretion is important. You okay with that?”

  Chloe nodded vigorously. “How you run your business is none of my… business.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but that’s the gist of it.”

  I’d instructed Perry to come by in about fifteen minutes time. We had a piece of business to conduct, but in the meantime I could just relax with Chloe.

  I found it surprisingly easy to talk with her, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with her resemblance to Kara. Her voice and mannerisms were different, so the more we talked the more I began to distinguish between the two of them. And the more I liked her.

  “You must be very proud of what your dad has achieved,” Chloe remarked. “He’s got his fingers in so many different pies.”

  “Yeah, sure. How’re you getting on living in Chicago?” I asked, quickly changing the subject. The last thing I wanted to talk about was Dad. Just the mention of him made me think about the last time he sent me out on a collection. I’d nearly killed the victim. He’d never asked me to kill anyone--not yet--but I sensed that moment getting closer. Soon I’d have to end someone’s life. The only person I wanted to kill was Roddy Barton. He had it coming to him.