Bad Boy Sinner (The Bad Boy Series Book 2)

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Bad Boy Sinner (The Bad Boy Series Book 2) Page 4

by S. E. Lund


  "I'm sure you do," Barnes said with a chuckle. "They're not even close to questioning anyone."

  "I'll let my contacts know."

  "Give them my regards," Barnes said. "Maybe you and I can have a drink after work sometime."

  "Sounds good. Call me any time," I said and ended the call.

  Then I called Misha Rabinov, one of the lower-level thugs I had cultivated in the Romanov family. The man had a taste for pretty blonde college students, so I made sure to invite several I knew to the club whenever he was there.

  "I'm wondering about an old enemy of mine and whether he might have been given a visit lately about outstanding bills."

  "Got a name? I can run it and see what I come up with."

  "Graham Parker," I said. "Investment banker type. Runs an investment business in Boston."

  "I’ll let you know. Hey," Misha said, his voice expectant. "Any chance of partying at the Venue tonight? I got a bonus for my amazing skills and feel like living it up."

  "I'd be glad to have you," I said, smiling to myself. "You can fill me in on what you find out about Parker. We can have a few drinks."

  "Deal," Misha said and ended the call.

  I sat back and wondered what his investigation would bring up. I was sure he'd be able to find out who was involved. It wasn't like these wise guys were trained in counterespionage. They loved to brag about their exploits. Gain points on each other about how close to death they'd brought some poor bastard who was in debt to their boss and behind on payments. It was a badge of honor.

  Later that night, I finished up at the gym and went to my apartment for a shower and to get ready for the evening at the Venue. I didn’t relish spending it with Misha, but he was a useful idiot. I stood in front of the mirror and pulled on my shirt, buttoning it up while I contemplated the evening. I usually spent my weekends at one of my uncle's clubs, overseeing the place to make sure everything was running smoothly. Tonight, it was the Venue. Next weekend, it would be another one of the three clubs for which I was now responsible.

  When I was finished dressing in a fresh white shirt, dark suit, and tie, I ran my hand through my hair, which was in dire need of a cut, and considered my face.

  I looked as tired as I felt.

  Running my uncle's and father's empire, such as it was, took all my time. I’d had a real life back when I was in the Marines. I had downtime, I had privacy in my place in Quantico, and I could always take leave and decompress for a week or so.

  Now, I had no time off ever. I was always on call. It was me people came to when there was a problem, big or small, and there were small problems every single day that needed my attention. On top of that, I was busy working to get close to the Romanovs, actively recruiting several members of his family to be my 'friends.' They were loyal to Romanov but they always needed extra money or women and were willing to cheat around the edges to get them.

  I found it for them. It was the easiest way to get in with a group of lowlifes. Appeal to their pocketbooks and dicks.

  Tonight, I'd call in a marker and I'd return a favor. I'd invited a few pretty blonde hangers-on to the club, and I knew they'd keep my good buddy Misha happy. I'd have a bit of fun as well with one of the blondes, a girl who called herself Lila—who knew what her real name was. I didn't care.

  So even on a Saturday night, even when I was playing, I was always working.

  That was my new life. I didn’t have time to think too deeply about what I'd become. Instead, I straightened my tie and left my apartment, ready to face the night.

  I arrived at the club around seven and did my usual walk-through to see how everything was going. The office manager was finalizing the lunch receipts from the restaurant, and the floor manager for the night was checking out the bar to make sure it was stocked and ready to go.

  I sat in the office for a while and read over emails, trying to focus on the job at hand, but my mind kept going over my texts from Celia, and what I'd learned from Barnes about Graham.

  I hoped I'd know tonight who beat him up and why. Then maybe I'd text Celia and let her know I'd pay off Graham's debt. Her texts had become increasingly frantic. I didn’t want her to worry too much, but I wasn't going to call her. I didn’t want to hear her voice or see her face again.

  That part of my life was over.

  After Misha arrived and I had introduced him to Lila and her friend—whose name I couldn't remember—we sat in the back of the club and had a drink. After a suitable amount of time had passed, I leaned forward and asked Misha the question that had been on my mind all day.

  "Any news on the wise guys who roughed up that enemy of mine?" I asked, expecting my quid pro quo.

  "Yeah," he said and leaned forward as well, talking in a low voice so nobody could overhear our discussion. Beside me on the sofa, the two girls were busy admiring each other's manicures.

  "His name's Stepan," Misha said. "He's real low-life muscle for Victor Romanov, Sergei's younger brother. I heard he fucked up some investment banker type who works downtown over an unpaid debt. His crew works for the Romanovs. They take care of any late payments on outstanding bills, if you know what I mean," Misha said, wagging his eyebrows.

  "That's the one," I said. "Thanks."

  He nodded and leaned back, picking up his drink and enjoying my hospitality.

  Now I knew who had done the deed, and I knew who to pay off. I was set. I could take care of business and pay off Graham's debt—at least, that was the plan. I'd pay off Victor Romanov and then I'd swing by wherever Stepan hung out and give him a taste of my fist.

  I'd never have to see Graham or Celia again.

  A couple of hours after Misha arrived and we'd had a few drinks, Kirk, one of my bodyguards, came up to where Misha and I were sitting at the back of the club's large open dance floor and bar to let me know I had a visitor.

  He leaned over, blocking off his mouth so the others couldn't hear what he was saying.

  "There's this woman who claims she knows you," he said, jerking his head to the side. "She said her name was Celia. She said you’d know her and that she's here to talk to you about her brother."

  It was then that I saw her.

  "Crap," I said, only half under my breath.

  She looked… fantastic.

  Stunning.

  She wore a red dress that showed all her best womanly attributes—curves that could make a man weak in the knees, long dark hair like silk, a generous mouth painted red and eminently kissable. Her pretty face made you think about seeing it in the morning after a long night of fucking her brains out.

  I remembered my mouth on her, her mouth on me. My body responded immediately, my pulse increasing, a low-level ache starting in my balls that told me I needed to fuck her and soon.

  Yeah, she still had that effect on me. It surprised me how strongly I reacted to seeing her despite everything that had happened between us and our families.

  I wanted her. Badly.

  After all these years, I still wanted to possess her completely. The need I felt for her was completely primal. I was like some kind of caveman seeing my woman and wanting to haul her away into my cave and keep her to myself.

  There I was, sitting beside the two blonde babes who were Misha's and mine for the night, and all I could think of in that moment was that my blonde, Lila, was a pale substitute for Celia.

  When I saw Celia, I couldn't help but think that she was going to screw everything up. Not only would she make me want her all over again, but she might make a scene and talk about Graham in front of Misha. I wanted him to think I was a tough sonofabitch who didn't let anything upset me.

  I had to send her away.

  "Tell her I'm busy. Tell her to call Amanda at the gym if she has any business to discuss."

  Kirk returned to where Celia stood with my other bodyguard, Phil. I could tell she wasn't happy with my message.

  Then, much to everyone's surprise, she slipped around Kirk and Phil.

  "Hunter!"

&nb
sp; Before she could get to me, Phil had her in his arms, stopping her a few feet from where we sat.

  "Sorry, Mr. Saint," Phil said, Celia's arms in his.

  "Jesus Christ," I muttered. I stood and buttoned my suit jacket before leaning down to Lila.

  "Excuse me for a moment," I said, trying my best to sound impatient. "I have a matter to attend to."

  I went to where Phil held Celia, controlling my emotions with a few deep breaths.

  "Hunter, I need to talk to you," Celia said, her eyes searching out mine. "It's about Graham."

  I sighed heavily and theatrically. "What makes you think I care about anything to do with you and your family?"

  "Graham asked me to come and speak with you," she said. "Can we go somewhere private?"

  "Graham thinks he can send you to me like some kind of peace offering?" I replied, playing dumb for the moment. "I'm not biting. Now, I'm busy." I motioned to Phil. "Take her outside."

  "Hunter, please!" Celia said, her voice breaking, tears in her eyes. "Graham's in the hospital. I need to talk to you in private."

  I met her gaze, finally, and had to decide what to do. I wanted to avoid her at all costs. She was dangerous to me. She could distract me from my mission, and that wasn't going to happen.

  I realized she wouldn’t let this go until I spoke with her, so I gestured to Phil.

  "Let her go." Then I headed for the rear door that led to the offices. "Follow me."

  I led her past the kitchen and down the hallway to the business office.

  "Hunter, I'm sorry to bother you but—"

  I held out my hand to stop her from talking and went into the darkened office. She hesitated just outside, like she was afraid to come in with me.

  "For God's sake, come inside," I said and returned to her, pulling her in.

  She stood there, staring into my eyes, and I could see how close to the edge she was. I wondered if it was as hard for her, us being this close, as it was for me.

  Then the rational part of my brain cut in and I realized.

  No.

  She was the one who threw me over. I was the one who had wanted it to continue.

  "Quit with the tears," I said, sounding as impatient as possible. "I'm not moved by tears. I don't care if Graham's dying. Why would I care? My brother died right in front of my fucking eyes, Celia, or did you forget that little fact?"

  "I could never forget," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry…"

  She covered her face with her hands and cried in front of me. I tried to not respond, tried to not pull her into my arms and comfort her the way I wanted. Gradually, she regained control over herself.

  "Graham borrowed money from a loan shark to pay back my inheritance, which he lost on a bad investment. He thought he could turn it around and pay me back and the loan shark, but he couldn't and they beat him up," she said quietly. "They broke his nose, his jaw, and his leg, and punched out his teeth. He has internal injuries and a serious concussion; he’ll be in rehab for weeks. They carved ‘7 Days’ on his chest with a knife and said if he didn't pay the money back by Wednesday night, they'll kill him, then come after me for his insurance money."

  "Oh yeah?" I said and tapped my foot, not looking at her. I knew that if I saw real pain in her eyes, I’d be toast. "That’s what happens when you invest money you can't afford to lose. I thought Graham was smarter than that. I guess not."

  "Look, I didn’t want to come to you," she said, "but Graham insisted that you were the only one who could help."

  That hurt. "Yeah," I said with a rueful laugh. "It must have been hard for you to come to me and ask for help. You couldn’t get me out of your life fast enough. Funny, but I thought there was something special between us. I guess I was a wrong."

  "Hunter, it wasn't like that," she said. "I wish you could understand…"

  I didn't say anything in response. Of course, she'd deny that she threw me away. She had to, if she wanted my help with Graham.

  I wasn't buying it.

  "Who does he owe money to?" I asked finally, although I already knew.

  "Some guy named Stepan. That's all I know."

  "Stepan, huh?" I said and smiled grimly. "You don't mess with the Russians. They mean business."

  Actually, based on what I'd heard about him, Stepan had gone easy on Graham. He was a nasty piece of shit, as mafia pieces of shit went, and was known for taking delight in inflicting maximum pain. He'd delivered a serious beating on Graham but he hadn’t tortured the man, which was Stepan's forte.

  "I know the Russians. If you don't give them the money by Wednesday, Graham will be dead. You can count on that."

  I turned to leave. I'd already decided I'd pay off Graham's fucking debt and save his fucking life, despite everything. But I was going to make Celia sweat it out a bit longer.

  It was small of me. I should have comforted her and told her, “Of course I'll pay off your fucking traitorous bastard of a brother's debt,” but I didn't.

  She followed me to the door. "You're just going to let them kill Graham?"

  I turned to her, enjoying the look of surprise and horror on her beautiful face.

  "Tell me, Celia, why should I help?"

  She came to my side, her eyes imploring.

  "Because you and Graham were best friends all your life. From the time you were in middle school and all through college. You were going to go into business together…"

  "You might think that would count for something," I said softly. "You might think that would mean he stood by me when I needed him. Instead, he went into business with someone else. He did nothing to stop Spencer from going after my uncle. Sean died, Celia," I said, losing it. "Sean's dead because of Spencer. Maybe if Graham dies, Spencer will know how it feels to lose someone."

  I turned and walked away. Before I escaped her completely, she once again called out in a weepy voice.

  "Yes, he died because of Spencer. Not because of Graham! You know Spencer," she said and came to my side, grabbed my arm. "You know what he was like with us. With me. There was nothing either of us could do."

  I pulled my arm away.

  "Graham should have thought about the cost before he went to the Russians. He should have come to me if he needed money."

  "How could he? He knew you blamed him for what happened to Sean."

  "I don’t blame him," I said quietly. "But he turned his back on me when I wanted to go into business with him. You threw me away like I was a bad apple when there were so many other fresh shiny ones to eat."

  "I didn't do that."

  The, to my utter surprise, she got down on her knees. She actually got down on her fucking knees and begged, her hands folded as if in prayer. She looked up into my eyes and pleaded for my help.

  "Will you help Graham?"

  I took in a breath, surprised at how my body still responded to her, especially with her on her knees like that. The callous part of me couldn’t help but think of her on her knees before me, sucking my dick. At that moment, a plan began to develop in my mind.

  "Tell me why I should, Celia. What do I get out of this?"

  Of course, I knew exactly what I wanted to get out of it. I wanted her.

  I wanted her to be my fuck toy. My plaything. I wanted to be able to order her onto her knees and she'd comply, opening her mouth wide to accept my dick.

  I stared her down, waiting, my hands on my hips.

  "I'll do anything you want, Hunter," she said, her voice breaking. "Anything. Name it and I'll do it."

  I shook my head. "What can you do for me that I can't get from any number of other women?" I asked, enjoying the way she looked as she knelt at my feet. "Women who'd enjoy it, and not hate every minute."

  "Anything," she said once more, tears spilling out of her eyes and down her cheeks.

  In truth, I would have been willing to pay off Graham's debt and not collect anything in return, but at that moment, I wanted her to suffer.

  "I'll pay the debt," I said. "As for your off
er, I'll consider my options. How much does he owe?"

  I already knew, but I wanted her to have to say it, confess it all.

  "A hundred and forty thousand."

  I whistled, trying to imply it was big money, but it was pocket change.

  "That's a lot of high-priced call girl services, Celia." I eyed her, amused now at my cunning plan. "At five hundred an hour, that works out to…" I said and smiled, "three hundred hours of being my fuck toy."

  Her eyes widened and I'm sure I heard her intake of breath—in surprise or horror, I didn’t know.

  "Are you really going to hate fuck me in payment?" she asked, defiant to the end.

  I liked that fire in her. She was willing to come to me and ask for help even though she knew I was now in deep with the mafia.

  I respected her balls.

  I bit my bottom lip. "Hate fucks are pretty good, Celia. You should know. Isn't that what you did to me?"

  "That was never what happened between us," she protested, and I almost believed her. "Why would you even think that? "

  "Graham told me." I met her eyes. "He told me you wanted Greg, not me, but I was easier. As soon as you got Greg, you threw me away like trash."

  "No, no," she said. "That's not true. I never—"

  "Stop," I said and chopped my hand down. "It doesn’t matter anyway so no more lies." I walked down the hall. “I’ll contact Stepan and pay the debt. As for you," I said opening the door that led back to the club. "I'll think about what I want from you, if anything. But you better make it worth my while."

  Celia went through the door, wiping her eyes, and I passed her on the way back to the sofas where Misha and the girls sat. I stopped before I got to the dais and turned to face her.

  "You should go home, Celia. Your makeup's all messed up and I'm sure one of your frat boys is waiting for you. We'll be in touch. You can count on that."

  Then I went back up to the sofas where Lila and Misha were waiting. I bent down and kissed Lila on the mouth.

  Celia left the club and I was determined to never see her again. I wouldn't collect on the debt Graham owed me. But then I thought of what Stepan had done to Graham. I thought about how Celia had been on her knees in front of me, begging.

 

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