If I’d ever harbored the illusion that Denton Russell wasn’t the bad guy my boss made out, that notion was immediately dismissed when I saw the dried blood and scrapes on his knuckles.
It was only nine in the morning, and he’d already been in a fight. He hadn’t even gone to the effort of cleaning up afterwards. Lois, my immediate supervisor, had explained that most of the employees here would be innocent of all crimes. Apparently, they thought they were working for the head office of a food packaging company.
I wanted to believe that was true, but if Denton just walked around casually with bloody knuckles, there must be a heck of a lot of people here deliberately looking away from uncomfortable truths.
I sat down and looked up, taking in my first impression of Denton in the flesh. I’d seen plenty of photos, but they hadn’t prepared me for what it would feel like to sit just a few feet from him.
The cliché thing to say would be that the photos didn’t do him justice, but that wasn’t quite true. He looked fantastic in the photos as well. Every woman in the office had made some sort of cheeky comment when they saw him, and most of them thought I was lucky for the chance to spend time with a man like Denton.
But the photos hadn’t captured the essence of raw strength and power that he gave off. He’d thrown some aftershave on, but a heat emanated from his body, making it clear he had been sweating recently.
In most of his photos, Denton had been clean-shaven, but he hadn’t shaved this morning, and there was a rough stubble coating his face and drawing attention away from his tired eyes.
Underneath his shirt were tattoos covering his arms and probably his chest as well, although I hadn’t seen any photos of that. He had looked every bit the low-life thug in most of the pictures I’d seen, but now he looked like any other businessman, albeit with knuckles covered in blood.
He looked just as comfortable in the suit as he did in the jeans and t-shirts the FBI usually photographed him wearing. He’d been attractive in those images, but I never thought for a second I would find him desirable.
There was a difference between someone being easy on the eyes, and actually appealing. Much to my mom’s relief--and Dad’s when he’d been alive--I usually went for sensible, well-educated men, who spoke politely and would have good jobs and earn lots of money. I’d never brought home anyone like Denton.
I could just imagine the look on my Mom’s face if I introduced her to someone like him. Sexy, ripped, covered in tattoos, and a womanizer to boot. Oh, and he’s a criminal who kills and beats people up for a living when he’s not pushing papers around the office he uses for money laundering.
Christ, we hadn’t even started the interview yet and already I was imagining what would happen if I introduced him to my mom. This had the potential to get awkward.
Lois had spent a couple of hours lecturing me on the importance of treading the line between sexual chemistry--which was important to get Denton to let me into his world--and actual sexual intimacy.
Reading between the lines, I sensed that perhaps Lois had fallen for someone she was supposed to be investigating in the past, but she didn’t admit as much.
That couldn’t happen here. I couldn’t pretend Denton wasn’t easy on the eye, but he was a criminal, and most likely a murderer. I could never be attracted to someone like that.
“You’re here to interview for the PA job?” Denton asked as he cast his eyes over a copy of my résumé that someone had left on his desk. He still hadn’t so much as looked at me, and to be honest, I’d happily go through the entire interview with him not doing so.
“Yes, sir,” I replied politely. Personal assistants and secretaries were likely deferential to their employers, so I just had to be overly polite and appear willing to take orders all day long for little pay.
“You’re highly quali--” He trailed off as he finally looked up from my résumé and stared at me.
His deep green eyes came to a rest on mine. That was another thing a photo couldn’t do justice to--the intensity of someone’s gaze. It was like being a kid and having my dad tell me off; I knew I had to maintain eye contact, but every instinct in my body begged me to look away before my head exploded.
I did my best to look puzzled, as if I didn’t know why he looked surprised to see someone the spitting image of his dead ex-girlfriend. I’d even had my hair specially prepared to look like hers, although the color didn’t match exactly, and I wore a pant suit similar to the ones she usually wore to work.
We were playing with his emotions. It was a cruel form of torture, but nothing compared to what he did to his rivals on a regular basis. He deserved every bit of pain I could inflict.
“Is everything okay?” I asked sweetly.
I didn’t sound like Kara. By all accounts, she’d had a slight Midwestern accent, and after attempting one of my own, Lois had quickly decided not to have me fake it.
That wouldn’t have fit in with the rest of the background on my résumé anyway. To keep things simple and easy to remember, all my work experience was around New York and Boston, places I knew well from growing up and college.
Denton continued to stare at me for a few seconds that threatened to draw out into eternity, before finally blinking and shaking his head, as if snapping out of a daze.
“Everything’s fine,” he replied. His voice sounded moody and aggressive, but I couldn’t expect anything else from someone with his background. “You’re highly qualified. How did you get the job at a Fortune 500 company without going to college?”
“I knew the personal assistant who was leaving her job, and she put me in touch with the boss. I got lucky, really.”
“I’ll say. Even the filing clerks have degrees at that place.”
Denton went back to staring at me. The longer his eyes lingered on me, the faster my heart rate got, until I felt like it was about to burst out of my chest. What if he’d figured me out? Maybe this was all a little too much. It was too obvious.
If he knew it was inappropriate to stare at me for so long, he didn’t seem to care. It’s not like he was being subtle about it. At least I hadn’t worn a wire or any listening devices.
Lois said there wasn’t much point at first, because Denton was hardly likely to divulge any useful information in an interview anyway. I had to gain his trust first, then I could start collecting evidence against him and his father.
“Why are you here?” he asked firmly.
“Excuse me?” I replied, my voice creaking under the pressure. Did he know?
“I said, why are you here?”
To put you behind bars where you belong. “To interview for a job as a personal assistant.”
“I meant, why are you here in Chicago. Why leave a good job in New York to come here?”
“Oh,” I replied.
I tried to force an embarrassed smile--it was better than looking relieved at not being caught out as an undercover FBI agent--but all I could manage was a slight twitch of my cheek that probably looked like the onset of a stroke. “I just wanted a change of pace. New York got to be a little too much.”
“You’re lying,” Denton accused.
“Sir?”
Oh God, he knows. Will I make it out of here alive? Surely he doesn’t kill people in his office? I’ll probably be allowed back down to my car in the underground garage before some men jump me and throw me in the trunk.
“Boyfriend problems,” Denton said. “Or girlfriend problems, I suppose. People don’t just one day decide they’re going to move away from New York City and come live in Chicago. Judging by your résumé, you don’t have any connections here, so I’m guessing you had a relationship end badly.”
This was as good a time as any to weave in the next part of the made up backstory.
“My father died,” I replied. “I just wanted to get away from the city.”
That part was partly true, but it wasn’t recent. Dad died five years ago. His death made me want to stay at home even more to support Mom, but she’d
insisted I go off to university as planned.
“Oh. Sorry,” Denton said. He didn’t sound particularly sorry. I guess that’s what happened when you spent as much time around death as he did. “What happened?”
Mom would never forgive me for this next lie, but I had to do it. Lying about Dad’s death might help save lives. If it did, it would be worth it.
“He was killed by the police,” I replied. I didn’t have to fake a lot of anguish as I spoke. “My dad wasn’t always on the right side of the law, but he wasn’t a bad person.”
“I find the police rarely distinguish between good and bad people these days. They’re too quick to hand out their own brand of justice.”
I nodded. “Don’t even get me started on that.”
Denton smiled for the first time, but the second I returned it with a smile of my own he went back to frowning at me and looking confused.
So far this had gone exactly to plan. I’d explained why I was moving from New York to Chicago, and hopefully convinced him that being an FBI agent working undercover had nothing to do with it.
I’d also managed to subtly show an appropriate amount of discontent for the authorities which Denton was bound to appreciate in a personal assistant.
But he still didn’t look convinced. We’d gone too far in making me look like Kara. We should have toned it down.
“What do you think is the quality I value most in a PA, Chloe?” Denton asked.
In reality, it was probably the ability to be treated like shit and be at his beck and call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, but that might not be the best answer to give right now.
“Discretion,” I replied. “PAs see and hear the inner workings of the business, but they have to act like they don’t.”
Denton smiled and nodded. “Were you ever tempted to make a quick buck on the stock market with that insider knowledge?”
“Not really. I wouldn’t have known what to do with it.”
“Yeah, I guess the financials would have gone over your head a bit.”
I bit my tongue, and forced myself to nod along. I understood financials well enough having dabbled with a few basic accounting courses in college, but Chloe Tamworth was clueless about those things.
Denton leaned back in his chair, and looked up at the ceiling before sighing loudly and looking back down at me.
“This has been a waste of time,” he said moodily. “You shouldn’t have come here today. I don’t want a new PA. Not yet.”
A feeling of violent nausea crashed over, and instinctively I looked around for a trashcan to throw up in. I took a few deep breaths in through my nose and managed to control the urge to be sick, but only just.
I’d done everything right. I’d said all the right things, I’d followed the plan exactly as devised. I should have been offered the job right there and then.
“How about a trial run?” I pleaded. “I could be a temp for a week and if things don’t work out then no harm done.”
“No,” he replied firmly. “I don’t want you around here. It’s nothing personal. Leave now, Ms. Tamworth.”
That must be the voice he used when threatening members of other crime families and people he needed to control, because it scared the shit out of me and I was an FBI agent, though not a very good one if this first assignment was any indication.
There was no arguing with him.
“Sorry for wasting your time,” I muttered, as I stood up and shuffled out of the office. I couldn’t help but take a quick look back at him as I closed the door. That was a face I would have happily followed around for as long as it took to bring him down. How could someone blessed with such looks and magnetism waste himself with a life of crime?
I didn’t cry until I was outside the building, but once the fresh air hit me I couldn’t keep it in any longer. I had to call Lois and tell her that I’d fallen at the first hurdle. Weeks of planning had gone to waste, because a Harvard graduate couldn’t swing her way into a job as a PA.
The concept of field work had terrified me when Lois first broached the subject, but now that it was all over before it had even begun, I realized that it had actually excited me as well. Going back to the desk job felt boring and mundane in comparison.
That was what I deserved though. I’d fucked up. I didn’t know how, but the evidence was right there in front of me. There was no arguing with the facts. My life as an undercover agent had lasted less than twenty minutes.
I should have known better than to get my hopes up. I wasn’t cut out for this. I laughed at myself and attracted a few curious glances from passers-by on the street. What had I been expecting? That a twenty-two year old, fresh out of college, was going to bring down a crime family that had been operating in Chicago for over fifty years?
No, real life didn’t work like that. Real life was working your ass off only to be confronted with failure at the first sign of a real challenge.
I pulled my phone out of my purse to call Lois, but decided against it. The call could wait half an hour. I needed a hot tea to calm myself down first. It might take more than a strong Earl Grey to get me out of this mess.
Today was my first day undercover, and it looked like it was going to be my last.
It was like looking at a ghost.
They were so alike.
She’d sat right there in the chair Kara used to sit in while she took notes. They even had a similar posture. If I hadn’t known Kara since we were both kids, I could have sworn the two of them were sisters.
I looked back down at her résumé. Chloe Tamworth. Born and bred in New York. Worked as a receptionist after graduating high school and then transitioned to being a personal assistant where she’d had a number of impressive positions.
Her résumé couldn’t have been any more appropriate for the job. She was the perfect candidate.
Apart from how she looked.
Chloe was gorgeous, I couldn’t deny that. Her long, brown hair draped down over her slender frame, and she had a stunning smile, although I’d only caught a glimpse of it once.
And that body. God, what I wouldn’t give to have a go on that.
Her looks probably opened doors for her, but not this time. Her looks were the problem. She was the spitting image of Kara. I still thought about her every night when I closed my eyes, and I probably would do for the rest of my life. I couldn’t have her doppelganger following me around everywhere.
This had probably been Dad’s sick idea of a joke. Or maybe he thought the best way to replace Kara as a PA, was to bring in a new PA that looked as much like her as possible. Kara had been much more to me than just a PA, but Dad couldn’t understand that.
I could hardly tell him how I really felt about her death. That would involve showing emotions, and emotions were a weakness ready to be exploited. Roddy Barton knew all about that. That’s why he’d killed Kara; to get at me. Kara was dead because someone thought it would help them replace us as the family in control of this city.
I would have given up everything, including the city, to get her back, but it was too late.
I picked up the phone and called Dad. I needed to yell at someone.
“Yeah?” he said, as he answered the phone with his usual level of affection for his only son.
The noise of a violent interrogation, not unlike the one I had been a part of this morning, could be heard in the background. Dad liked to show his face occasionally, although he rarely threw the punches these days. He wasn’t in the best of shape anymore, and even throwing a few punches left him out of breath. Not that he’d ever admit as much, and he’d kill anyone who dared insinuate it. Even me.
“Was that your idea of a joke?” I asked angrily. It never paid to be soft or deferential with Dad. He’d only see it as a sign of weakness.
“Get to the point, Denton. I’m kind of busy right now.”
As if to emphasize his point, a man groaned loudly as the air was forced from his lungs following a punch to the gut.
�
�I’ve just interviewed a young girl for a job as my new personal assistant.”
“Good. About time you got a new one.”
About time? Christ, Kara had only been dead a couple of months. Was the official mourning period over already?
“And you thought one who looked like Kara would be a good replacement?”
“What? How the hell would I know what she looked like?”
“I assumed you scheduled the interview.”
“I have more important things to worry about than what lucky girl gets to be your PA and bed warmer. She probably went through the usual channels.”
Even now she was dead, Dad didn’t treat Kara with any more respect than he would afford to one of his mistresses. He was nice enough when he wanted something from them, but a piece of shit otherwise.
“Whatever. I showed her the door.”
“You need a PA, son. You’re a fucking shitshow without someone telling you where to go and when.”
“I’ll find one myself, and I’ll take as long as I want.”
“If you pull some shit like you did with the Mitchell brothers that time then you’re going to get more than a thrash around the ears the next time I see you.”
Would he ever let me forget that? I’d hooked up with some chick and spent the night screwing. I missed a debt collection, and the guys skipped town, never to be seen again, along with about twenty thousand dollars.
“Good speaking to you too, Dad,” I said, as I hung up the phone.
Maybe I was just being paranoid. Chloe and Kara were both in their early twenties with long brown hair and relatively slim builds. They were hardly the only people in Chicago who fit that description. The likeness might have been entirely in my head.
It had been a long morning. The one lead I had on Kara’s killer had proved to be a dead end just like all the others. I would get him in the end. Roddy Barton was living on borrowed time.
I looked down at my hands and realized they were covered in dried blood from my little breakfast networking event this morning. That must have been there during the entire interview, but Chloe had never batted an eyelid at it.
Revenge: A Bad Boy Romance Page 2
