DIrty Dark Deceit: A Criminal Bad Boy Standalone

by Lacey Alpha

  Bedroom? She better not actually fuck him. I don't think I could handle listening to that. Plus, she's the last person on earth that prick deserves to get his grubby hands on.

  Taking my iPad out of the inside of my jacket, I check the feed, finding her walking along a corridor of doors.

  “No fucking, Darcy.” I order, my blood heating up.

  She inhales sharply at my words and I spot her turning to Heathcote. My neck prickles at the sight of him. This cunt has caused me a world of hell. And I'm going to take everything from him.

  A thought occurs to me as I head toward the underground garage where he keeps his collection. The McLaren F1 isn't his most prized car any more. That fucking P1 is.

  I halt in my tracks, my stomach dropping like a brick from a roof. There's no way I'm walking out of here with that today. Not with it at the centre of his little party.

  “Ask him about the P1, sweetheart. What's his plans for it? Is he keeping it?”

  Heathcote guides her into a large bedroom with a set of double doors leading onto a balcony.

  “So...the P1, are you selling it?”

  “Why? Do you wanna piece?” Heathcote teases, touching her arm.

  My rage rises and I grow impatient, pressing my back hard to a wall.

  “Get to the fucking point, Darcy,” I snap.

  “Hm, maybe. What are your plans for it?”

  “Want to know a little secret?” Heathcote leans in close so all I can see is his curly-pube chest hair peeping out of his shirt. Ever heard of a pair of scissors, dipshit?

  I glower at the screen. Despite asking Darcy to do this, it's pissing me off. But I suppose I never was a rational kind of guy.

  “Yes,” Darcy says, breathy.

  Oh man, is she into him? If she had any idea what a cunt he is, she would not be letting him touch her. But I have to let her do this.

  Stick to the plan, pussy.

  Why am I getting so worked up? Who gives a fuck what she does with him? So long as I get my revenge on this prick.

  “I'm bringing it to my house in the south of France,” Heathcote says. “Cannes to be exact.”

  “Oh, when are you going?” she asks.

  I wait anxiously for his answer.

  “I leave tomorrow.”

  A plan forms in my mind. I quickly piece it together, running my thumb over my bottom lip. “Darcy, tell him you're going to France too. For a holiday. You'll be there for a week.”

  She goes quiet, evidently wanting to fight me on this.

  “Tell him,” I growl. Come on, sweetheart.

  “What a coincidence, I'm going there too. On holiday. I'll be there for a week.”

  “Really?” Ralph says in a low growl. “Perhaps I can take you out for dinner one night?”

  “Say yes,” I insist and Darcy hesitates again. “Now, sweetheart. Or that fifty grand is gonna be a big fat fucking zero.”

  “Yes, that sounds lovely,” she says, an edge to her tone. It seems a pissed off Darcy is the next hurdle in this job. Probably gonna be my favourite too.

  “Now tell him you have to leave. I'll pick you up out front.” I head back toward the service door, hurrying to the security guard in the bush and roughly putting his clothes back on him. Dragging him up to the house, I prop him up against a wall, hoping he'll think he fell asleep. That shit I gave him was powerful. He's not going to remember his mother's name for days, let alone what happened today. Sorry sucker.

  Hurrying to the fence, I hear Darcy saying her goodbyes to Ralph. I clamber up the fence, throwing myself over it and landing in a crouch on the other side – it's some serious Jason Bourne shit. I march toward the SUV, jumping in and driving round to the front gate.

  I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for Darcy to appear. My bets are on her being pissy as hell. But I have to figure out a way to keep her on board with this.

  Predictably, she looks furious when she steps through the gate, glowering at the SUV like it just ran over her little sister. My cock seems to be a fan of that expression, she's getting a standing ovation.

  “What the fuck?” she barks as I take off down the road and she jams her seatbelt into place.

  “I'm not stealing the F1. I want that new McLaren,” I reply coolly.

  “I am not going to the south of France, Logan,” she insists.

  “Come on, do this for me.”

  “No. We had a deal and you broke it,” she snaps.

  I head over Chelsea bridge, glancing at her angry expression. “Just calm down.”

  “Don't tell me to calm down. I did what you told me. I've paid my debt.”

  I grind my teeth, remaining silent as I pull off of the main street toward my place. When we arrive in the sky garage, Darcy jumps out, heading toward her KA.

  “Darcy, hear me out,” I implore. Come on, baby.

  “No.” She drops into her car, pulling away before I can stop her.

  Fuck.

  I run my fingers through my hair, watching her go. She has got to come round to this idea. The only thing I can offer her is more money. Or my cock, but I'm not sure whipping out my 9-incher is the answer here.

  Money it is.

  ¸.•*´♥`*•.¸

  After calling her several times to no answer, I remember Darcy's working tonight. I head over to Vodka Revolution bar in Tower Hill, anticipation growing in my chest at seeing her. I have to make her agree to this. With her working Heathcote over, I'm bound to get a chance at stealing that McLaren. And man, I really want to drive that baby. I bet it handles like a dream. And it'll feel all the more worthwhile for being taken from that prick. He deserves this. And even if Darcy absolutely, point-blank refuses to help me, I'm going after it on my own.

  I arrive outside Vodka Revs, parking up my Lamborgini across the street and strolling toward the club. I nod to the bouncer outside, slipping him some cash and skipping the queue. Fun fact: everyone can be bought. EV-RY-ONE.

  As I push through the throng of people dancing in the darkened room, I'm given a flashback of being a teenager again. Going out on a Friday night with my little brother, pulling girls. I taught that kid everything he knows. And once he filled out a bit at the gym, he was almost as good as I was at taking girls home. That was before he went to university. He shot to the top of the class in under a year. Bloody golden child that he was. Is.

  I push through the dancing crowd, grimacing at the smell of sweat and smoke from a machine suspended from the ceiling. I'm not into this scene any more. Maybe I'm growing up at last. At nearly 31, I probably should be. But even if I found a nice girl, settled down, did the whole family thing, my mother still wouldn't want to see me. And I hardly blame her. So what's the point?

  I spot Darcy behind the bar in a tight black t-shirt with white words glowing on them under the ultraviolet lights: Ask me anything.

  I approach the bar, resting my elbows on the surface and leaning across it. “What's your favourite sex position?” I ask Darcy, raising my voice above the music.

  She snaps around, her eyes narrowing on me. “Oh, like I haven't been asked that one before. Try harder, Chase.”

  I grin. “And what did you answer?”

  “I think it went something along the lines of-” She puts her middle finger up at me and a laugh tugs at my stomach.

  “Can I have a word? Preferably outside.” Better play nice. Her resting bitch face is screaming fuck off. So I'm guessing I don't want to activate said bitch face.

  “Not now, I'm working.”

  I walk around the bar, feeling the other girls' eyes on me with their 'what the fuck are you doing?' expressions mixed with a dash of 'you can do me if you like'.

  Making a beeline for Darcy, I take her slim wrist. The straw-haired woman behind her is the only one unaffected by me, her eyes narrowing to slits. I suspect this is Darcy's boss.

  “Can I steal her?” I give her my sweetest smile - the one reserved for puppies and kittens.

  Her lips purse then she nods. “Five minutes max
.”

  Darcy sighs, twisting her wrist out of my hold but following me all the same.

  We head back through the throng of people and several girls grind themselves on my crotch. I'm grinning by the time we step outside – and a little hard, too, but mainly because I've got the impossible Darcy's full attention.

  “You seem very at home here,” Darcy remarks, folding her arms. Her hair is dragged up in a messy bun, honey-coloured strands hanging in a mess around her face. She looks cute as hell.

  “I'm not into clubs,” I reveal.

  “Really? Girls throwing themselves at you isn't your thing?”

  “I don't fuck teenagers.” I stare her down and her eyebrows raise. “What?” I question her expression.

  “Nothing...I just didn't realise you actually had some standards.”

  “Well you learn something new every day.”

  She breaks a smile and my chest expands. Good. I'm getting somewhere. “Darcy, I need you.”

  “This is all very sudden,” she teases.

  I roll my eyes. “Quit the sarcasm. I need you on this job.”

  “I told you. No. I did what you asked. I'm not going to bloody France.”

  “Come on. It's just a week.”

  “I can't just up and leave my job,” she snaps, planting her hands on her hips.

  “You'll get paid ten times what you'd make here in a year.”

  “From the car you didn't steal?” She raises a brow, glaring at me.

  “I saw a better opportunity.” I stand my ground, staring her down. “And I'm willing to up your payment for this one.”

  Her expression softens at that and curiosity flickers through her features. “I'm not interested.”

  She is. “Fifty grand. A day.”

  Her mouth falls open. “You can't be serious?”

  “Deadly. If I get my hands on that P1, you and I will both be set for life.”

  She sucks on her lip, looking thoughtful. It's very distracting. I'd like to suck on that lip, too...

  “Darce?” a male voice sounds over my shoulder.

  I turn, taking in the long-haired guy behind me with his hipster suspenders and thick-rimmed glasses (I can guarantee they don't improve his eye sight). Standing beside him is a hot woman with long ebony hair and an upturned nose. Her expression screams 'I'm better than you' whilst her boyfriend's expression suggests his balls just fell off and dropped right into his high-top trainers.

  “Fuck,” I hear Darcy breathe. Her face is a picture of horror, her eyes bugging out of her head.

  Who the hell is this nerd?

  DARCY

  This night is going from bad dream to all out night terror. Not only has Logan turned up here, probably causing me a world of shit with my bitch of a boss, but now my ex-boyfriend is strolling up the road toward me with the woman he fucked whilst he was with me.

  I fight the urge to curl into a ball on the ground, hurriedly tucking several sweaty strands of hair behind my ear.

  “Daniel?” I say lightly, trying to smile.

  He rushes at me, pulling me into his arms - overly friendly as always.

  I pull away, hating that I'm drenched in sweat and my make-up has probably melted off my face.

  “Darcy, how are you?” Lidia asks, flicking a strand of dark hair over her shoulder. Oh fuck, she looks perfect. Dressed in a tight little navy number in sky scraper heels.

  I glance down at my scuffed-up converse distastefully, hating my life. Why is this happening? Why?!

  “Good, Lidia, and you?” I ask, trying to keep myself composed. For all the good it does me.

  “Bloody hell, Darcy, you don't work here do you?” Daniel cuts in, glancing up at the sign above the door.

  “Er- no,” I say quickly, my cheeks burning, betraying me.

  “Your t-shirt says otherwise,” he laughs, pointing.

  Just above the 'ask me anything' logo is the emblem of the club. Oh why oh why is this happening to me?

  Logan slides a hand around my waist, moving closer. “And who are you?” He pins Daniel with a stare. If looks could kill...

  He's easily twice the size of Daniel and has nearly a head on him in height. For once, I'm actually grateful for his presence.

  “Daniel Jones.” He holds out a hand. “This is my fiancée Lidia.”

  “Fiancée?” I say in alarm, the word bursting from my mouth before I can stop it.

  Logan doesn't shake Daniel's hand. “You're the ex boyfriend?” he asks casually and Daniel nods, running a hand down the back of his neck.

  “And that's Lidia. My ex boss,” I mutter to Logan.

  “Charmed,” Logan says vaguely. “I was actually just in the middle of a private conversation with Darcy. So if you wanna fuck off now, feel free.”

  Daniel's mouth drops open and a laugh tries to force its way up my throat. Looks like Logan's casual rudeness came in handy at last.

  “Who is this guy?” Daniel demands, turning his full attention on me. My spine straightens. He has no right to make demands. The last time I saw him springs into my mind, hurting my soul and my confidence in one blow. Through a blur of tears, I'd watched silently as he and Lidia scrambled out of our bed, dragging on our his and hers robes whilst shock took hold of me.

  “Erm, this is Logan.”

  “Her boyfriend,” Logan steps in, tugging me closer.

  I sag against him, my saviour, the man I dislike for more reasons than I can count. But for once, has pulled through.

  “Right,” Daniel says stiffly.

  I feel Lidia's eyes sliding over my appearance. “Good to see you again, Darcy. No hard feelings, right?”

  “None,” I say firmly. But there are hard feelings. Very hard.

  I place my hand on Logan's chest, leaning in to him. With his buff arm wrapped around me, my confidence begins to rise. Time to cut this bitch down to size. “If you hadn't fucked my boyfriend, I wouldn't have met Logan. Which, as you can probably tell, is a definite upgrade.”

  “Darce!” Daniel balks and I know I've bruised his ego.

  “Fuck off Daniel,” I say smartly, turning and looping my arms around Logan. Boldly, I lean up, pressing my lips to his.

  Whoosh. The world fades like there's been an actual black-out.

  He responds fervently, snatching my waist and crushing me to him. I'm lost to the electricity charging my veins, the heat rocketing up my spine. When the kiss has gone on much longer than necessary, I try to pull away. But Logan has other ideas, parting my lips with his tongue, forcing his way into my mouth.

  Pushing my hips, he crushes me against the wall, his weight pressing.

  My body responds in a way it hasn't for so long and a soft moan escapes my lips. Heat slides through my belly, scattering like fireworks. That's when I yank my head back, bashing it against the window behind me with a donk.

  “Ow,” I groan and Logan grins wolfishly at me.

  “You okay?” His eyes roam down to my mouth.

  “Yes.” I clear my throat. “Thanks for that. You can let go of me now.”

  He glances over his shoulder. “He's still looking.”

  I follow his line of sight, finding Daniel and Lidia queuing into a bar across the road, his eyes pinned firmly on me.

  My heart tugs painfully at seeing him, all the memories of our relationship swelling back up.

  Logan drops his mouth to my throat, his lips trailing up to my ear. I shiver from the rub of his stubble, the brush of his mouth. Holy hell. I need to put a stop to this.

  “Logan,” I demand, pushing his shoulders.

  He doesn't budge. “You smell so good.”

  “I smell like sweat and spilt beer.”

  “So why does it taste so good?”

  A laugh escapes me as he runs his tongue up to my ear, sending goosebumps skittering across my skin.

  I pull my head away, about two seconds from coming undone. This is not okay!

  “Stop,” I hiss but his grip only tightens on my waist.

  He l
eans back a few inches, giving me his lopsided grin. “I was enjoying myself. I never thought I'd have you throw yourself at me.”

  “The only reason I kissed you was to make my ex jealous.” I duck under his arm, escaping his manly scent. My body is practically quivering. What else is his tongue capable of..?

  I blink away the thought. Logan has run that tongue over a lot of women. And I'm not going to continue to be one of them.

  “So, are you going to work with me?” Logan gives me a puppy dog look.

  “Fifty grand a day?” I confirm, giving in. Even I have a price, apparently. But a creeping feeling tells me my price wasn't the money he offered.

  “Yep.”

  A grin pulls at my mouth and I whip my t-shirt off, revealing the strappy vest top beneath.

  I march down the street, stuffing the shirt in a bin before returning to Logan. “Fine. I'll do it.”

  “Uhuh,” he says vaguely, his eyes firmly fixed on my breasts that are bulging out of the little vest. I tug it up, scowling at him.

  He blinks out of his drooling stupor. “Great. Can I give you a ride home?”

  I shrug, figuring it's easier than getting the tube. “Sure. Let me just grab my bag.”

  I hurry inside, pushing through the crowd, feeling thoroughly rubbed against by the time I reach the bar.

  “I quit!” I shout over the roar of noise.

  My boss glares at me. She's been putting me on the shitty shifts since I started here. And now I don't have to put up with a single day more of her bullshit.

  I grab my purse, giving the other girls a wave before heading away. They barely spare a glance for me. Since I told Sandra to have more respect for herself instead of flirting for tips, none of them have been particularly friendly towards me. Just trying to instil some dignity into my fellow women and all.

  I never fitted in here. And now I don't have to try. If Logan sticks to his word, I'm going to be set up for the future. I can buy my own place, take some time to figure out what I want to do with myself. This job could buy me freedom. And how can I say no to that?

  ¸.•*´♥`*•.¸

  Logan drives me home and I feel something needs to be said about that kiss, but I don't have the balls to do so. The fact that I can't stop thinking about it is troubling. But there's no way in hell he's going to do to me what he does to other women. Luring me in with his looks and his good kissing technique. Not on my watch.