My Bad Boy's Secret: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (26 page)

Read everything on the Internet and the newspapers, and you’ll never see my name. The secret to my success is staying hidden. I’ve got a Rolodex of aliases, and I use them to stay in the business. Since I trust you and you know for your own that you can’t blab, my name is Jake Strider. I’m one of the seven founding members of the Crew.

Heard of the Crew? Of course not. If you did, then we’d have a problem. We as a group stay in the shadows, so that we can keep doing this for as long as we live. Only the savviest people in the underworld have any idea that we even exist. Whenever we have an information leak, we plug it up by any means necessary. No one lives very long carrying secrets about us that we don’t want them to carry.

The Crew has its hands in all of the big businesses in the world. That means, we ignore the measly industries like oil, gas, gold, et cetera, and focus on controlling cocaine, methamphetamine, firearms, and other sectors that governments like to call “illegal” and clamp down on. It doesn’t matter if a recession is going on. Drugs and guns always show positive growth.

My associates and I got started on our careers ten years ago, and every year we’ve surpassed prior projections on profits and done better. We’re active on every continent except Antarctica, obviously, and our products are appreciated in every corner of the globe. You can rest assured that if there are people, our goods are present as well. No one knows that we bought and sold the stuff to them, but I’m too busy enjoying my cash and women to mind.

You may protest that since no one knows our names, we’re insignificant. You’ll have to eat your words when you realize that every major geopolitical event of the last decade came about because of us. We are the real bosses of the Latin American drug cartels, setting prices, taxing the sales, and killing any men who disobey us or stop being useful to us. We supply the weapons to terrorists, militias, and national militaries, and collecting most of the profits. We spread meth, ecstasy and peyote to new markets, triggering the drug epidemics you read about in the news. Bath salts, krokodil, and sizzurp, all became big because of us.

In every step of the business cycle, we have a presence. We supervise the growth, harvest, and the purification of the drugs. We oversee the assembly and transport of guns and ammunition. We negotiate the prices and ship the products to all the necessary locations. We manage and track sales, handle online orders of weapons and drugs. We hack into the bank accounts of corporations to grab a chunk of their profits. The Crew doesn’t believe in a hands-off approach. We all work hard to be intimately involved so that our grip on our business stays tight and we can collect all the money we can. Is it any wonder that we own over 90% of the global drug and weapons trade?

Everyone in our organization has a vital role to play, and we stay in touch constantly. I’m the Crew’s designated hacker and embezzler. I never attended any university, but I’m a world-class hacker and programmer. I’ve educated myself on everything there is to know about chemistry, neurobiology, firearms manufacture and use, finance, engineering, foreign languages, and anything else I need to know for my success in this job. It’s no wonder that we’re the best in the business, and we crush anyone who tries to usurp us.

Surely someone else is better than us at something, you dare suggest? Is some weedy, zit-faced 12-year old nerd faster at diverting funds from Deutsche Bank than me? Is there a more efficient mechanic than my friend and business partner Ed Karg? Have you met a tougher fighter than Dan “The Bull” Whipper? Introduce me to these people, and I’ll make sure they never interfere with us again. We recognize the importance of staying uniquely the best, and we never tolerate anyone who tries to be superior to us and not work for us. Either we persuade them to become an employee for us, or we wipe them off the face of the earth. When we’re done, you’ll never be able to claim that the Crew is less competent than anyone else.

Avoiding technology is the key to the Crew’s success. Don’t get me wrong, we’re not Amish. We fly in our Gulfstreams, drive our Ferraris, and enjoy all of the modern conveniences of life. But we know that we can never go public. We stay away from the social media, and thus we stay free. To avoid growing roots and getting attention, we fly around, never staying in one place for more than a month. None of us have ever put our photographs online. We have never sent emails or Skyped. Don’t try to find us on Facebook, Twitter, or the other sites that most people waste their lives on. All of that is the kiss of death. If law enforcement ever had a single photo or website featuring us, then we would have all gone to prison a long time ago. Before getting into the business, we made sure to destroy every record of ourselves. Birth certificates, grades, driver’s licenses, passports, credit cards, visas, and everything that had our names that could be traced were shredded and burned. We live off the grid, but that doesn’t mean we hide in the desert and sleep in trailers and shacks. We take full advantage of our hard-earned wealth, and enjoy life’s finer things.

Chapter 2

Jake

Some men like to spend their money on cars. Other men prefer to buy private islands. I buy all of that in a heartbeat. Buying a house or a yacht is about as exciting as buying a Snickers bar for me at this point. The real thrill in my life comes from acquiring women. Any idiot can buy stuff or pay for a prostitute. A real man uses his talents to bring women to his side. Think buying a painting is more interesting and useful than having a woman? I’ve long stopped counting how many women I’ve conquered. In one year, I enjoy more sex than the typical guy has in his entire life. My goal is to make Wilt Chamberlain look like a prude. I find and seduce the most beautiful and deserving women everywhere, and I recruit them if they can help me in some way. My handsome looks, perfectly muscled physique, and endlessly-powerful cock make women come with me. They stay with me for my ever-expanding riches, genius intellect, and addicting charisma. All the women who work for me, dream of bearing my children, and if need be, they would die for me. 

Like the kings and emperors of the past, I’ve cultivated a harem for my pleasure. Hundreds of women are my playthings, and the number is always growing. And like a monarch, I have one woman who’s special to me. Her name is McKenna Addison. I call her Addy. She used to want nothing more than to put me behind bars. Now, she’ll do anything I tell her. If I order her to kill someone, she’ll ask me what weapon she should use. If I order her to eat dirt, she’ll kneel on the ground and shove everything into her mouth. That’s how powerful I am.

There are reasons, of course, why Addy is my queen. While I know plenty of smart women, Addy is the only one who matches me in intelligence. She’s my right-hand woman, managing my money, tracking my sales and purchases, and helping me get all my jobs done. Depending on the task at hand, she’s a secretary, programmer, scientist, artist, detective, negotiator, or an entrepreneur. I get bored of most women chattering after five minutes, but when Addy talks, I listen. She has the wit to counter mine. She makes me laugh. She can think a million steps ahead of everyone else, but she likes to play her dumb blonde persona to fool everyone. Sometimes, even she knows sooner than me what to do in a situation. It’s a little scary how perfect she is for me. 

              Does that mean I’m a nice guy, who values women solely for what’s inside of them and doesn’t care about their looks? Quit being stupid. Of course, Addy is one of the most beautiful women that you might be just lucky enough to have a glimpse of her in your pathetic life. The most succinct way of describing her is envisioning a blend of Marilyn Monroe, Brigitte Bardot, Scarlett Johansson, and Charlize Theron. First, she’s a blonde, and I’ve got a soft spot for blondes. I’m biased towards redheads too. She has the brightest deep sapphire blue eyes that I can stare into for an eternity. Her skin is pure creamy white on her whole body, the color of fresh unsullied snow livened up by the pink flush of her cheeks and her ruby lips. That smooth milky skin runs uninterrupted from her sharp and prominent cheekbones to her beautifully bulging breasts that stand pert and free of sagging, past her ruddy womanhood and gorgeously plump derriere and down her softly muscled legs and slender feet. Her hair is pale golden silk, and she always knows how to style it to please me. Her skills in applying cosmetics and accessories are also nothing short of marvellous.

Most women need to drown their faces in makeup to look even marginally appealing, but Addy could emerge from bed unwashed and in pyjamas and still stun everyone on a catwalk. She’s as aware as I am of her effects on the opposite sex, and we like to bait and taunt poor souls for fun sometimes. Like any woman, Addy is obsessed with fashion, and I spoil her with clothes, makeup, and jewellery. My gifts to her are also gifts to me. I have her wear outfits to show her off, and she always agrees with my choices, sometimes making even better suggestions. We’ve blazed our way through the best and most exclusive restaurants, cruises, galas, resorts, parties, and premieres that the world has to offer. If it’s interesting and worthy of us, we’ll enjoy it. If we haven’t been there, rest assured, we will be there one day. Addy turn’s men’s heads everywhere, and I later have the pleasure of beating their blood and organs out for daring to look at my woman. I wouldn’t care if any other women I met disappeared from my life, but I can’t without Addy.

              As much as I make sure to live in the moment, I do think about what will happen when I leave this world. No one lives on forever, and I intend to leave a legacy. When I get too old and tired, I’ll quit my job and sell most of my holdings. I already have enough that Addy and I, our future children and grandchildren will never have to work. By the time I retire, I’ll have accumulated more money than any person has ever had in history. I’ll also have become a father, and I’ll have built a criminal kingdom larger and more powerful than anything that came before it. With my queen Addy, our children, and my wealth and power, I’ll herald a new era of empire and rule the world in darkness.

Chapter 03

Sabina.

I finished stapling the papers. Now I had to make 500 photocopies. What were we supposed to do with that many copies? Did we even have that many people who worked here? After my office chores were done, I had to start filling out new drug acquisition reports, then deliver afternoon coffee to my bosses.

Basically, this was not what I imagined working at the Drug Enforcement Agency would be like.

I wanted to be a cop ever since I was a little girl. My dad was one, but he encouraged me to aim higher, so after I graduated with an anthropology degree and couldn’t find any other satisfying work, I looked into working for federal agencies. I wanted to help wage the War against Drugs and put an end to the horrifying waves of drug abuseI read about for years, so I focused on joining the DEA. It wasn’t easy, but I made it. After two years of this drudgery, I seriously considered quitting. I already stopped trying hard. All rookie agents had to endure being the gofer, but I couldn’t wait any longer.

Another monotonous day ended, and I felt as useless as ever. I hadn’t put any criminals in jail, I hadn’t seized any drugs, and I hadn’t even fired a gun in over a year. I returned to my tiny apartment and mentally planned the events of the night. Microwaving dinner, watching reruns on TV, and maybe Skyping with college friends. Just thinking about it made me drowsy.

But my phone vibrated and broke my trance. I saw that it was an email notification. It was from my supervisor.

“Urgent and confidential”, read the subject. This was a shocker. I’d never received any DEA email of this type, except for my acceptance letter.

The message was brief and vague. “Agent Sabina Valdivia, please report tomorrow at 12 p.m. sharp to Room 5 for amission. Attendance is mandatory and of the highest importance. Share with no one.”

I felt equal parts confused and thrilled. Room 5 was legendary. It was where all agents gathered to receive their missions and plan their campaigns. It sounded like I was finally receiving a real job. I felt my euphoria degenerate into worry that I wasn’t being set up for an office prank. This sounded too awesome to be true.

I didn’t sleep for most of the night, and the next day, I got to the office late for the first time ever. No one seemed to miss me, though, since I still had to finish the same workload without anyone interrupting me. I didn’t see why my status as an agent even mattered. A first grader could do my job.

I dawdled until 12 p.m., and then, walked towards Room 5. I knocked on the door cautiously, and I heard a voice telling me to come in.

Chapter 04

Ada.

I’ve always been a wild girl. I dropped out of high school for a short while to become a rocker, but my parents eventually convinced me to go back. I didn’t study much in college and somehow managed to get my accounting degree, but I deserved a Ph.D. for drinking and hooking up with strangers. Some friends introduced me to guns and took me to the range, and I was immediately in love.

I started learning everything about firearms, and I read every book I found about them. How guns worked, how to clean them, how to identify them, what each one was worth, how to assemble them. I sort of regretted not majoring in engineering. I remembered my parents always telling me to work with what I loved, and I loved guns, so when I heard about the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives, I had my heart set on joining. It was a place where you got to study guns, track their illegal sales, and acquire them after arresting the bad guys. How’s that for fun?

Sadly, being an ATF agent is not how the brochures described it. I’ve been out on a few raids, but I’ve only ever handcuffed people during practice. I’ve never shot anyone, I’ve never gone undercover, and none of the other agents will consider me seriously for a field mission. They take one look at me, see my long hair, breasts, and pink fingernails, and say that girls need to stay safe in the office. I try hard every time not to punch them.

I admit that I am pretty hot. I’ve got wavy black hair that drapes over my shoulders, soft Nutella-brown skin that I fanatically keep clean and clear of blemishes, a cute button nose and willowy arms and legs that hide just how strongly I can fight. Some women and men who thought that they could intimidate me, ended up knocking out in one punch. While agency dress codes keep me from showing off much, I like to dress up on occasion and get the guys to gawk at me.

My job mainly involved in transferring calls, taking messages, and reminding people of their appointments, so I was pretty much a glorified secretary. Yesterday, I was extra bored and uncommitted. I perked up when I saw a new email. It read “Urgent and confidential.”

I clicked on it. “Agent Ada Bose, please arrive at Room 5 of the Drug Enforcement Agency headquarters for a mission. Attendance is mandatory and of the highest importance. Share with no one.”

It must have been a joke. I never read anything this short and serious after three years working for the government, which was saying something. What did the DEA want with me?

I considered ditching the appointment, but the next morning my supervisor ordered me to walk to the DEA and arrive early for this big meeting. So this was actually a big deal, considering how loudly he yelled at me.

Chapter 05

Sabina

I sat down on one side of the long mahogany table next to a woman of Indian descent, who looked like she was zoning out. Opposite of me were three middle-aged people, who I recognized as the heads of the DEA, ATF, and the FBI. I was really confused at this point. What sort of mission would get all the chiefs of America’s top law enforcement organizations together?

We sat in silence for a minute, then the DEA chief spoke first.

“Thank you for coming,” she said slowly. “We are announcing a long-term collaborative campaign between the Drug Enforcement Agency and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives that plans to involve you as the primary investigators, and we hope to inform you about the circumstances so that you can make a decision about whether or not to join.”

“Hang on,” interrupted the Indian woman. “I thought the ATF and the DEA had some decades-long rivalry. What happened to that?”

“That matters little considering the situation we are facing,” replied the ATF commissioner, a man with drooping jowls covered in wrinkles. He ran his fingers through his gray and thinning hair. “We are facing a national crisis of drugs and crime, and we must join forces to find a solution.”

I knew he was right. For the past few years, all the agencies were stretched thin, dealing with the surge of drug trafficking and use. Crime rates were spiking after declining for years. Police were at their wit’s end over dealing with murders, armed robberies, and rape. Businesses shuttered, cars crashed, and economies faltered. Drugs and guns recently became so much more available, and it was no longer unusual for gangs to overpower SWAT teams. Something had to be done.

The bigwigs at the DEA and the ATF swore never to cooperate, and here we were, cooperating.

“This may surprise you young ladies,” continued the ATF head, “but we’ve selected you specifically to handle this mission due to your relative youth and inexperience, qualities that make you by far the most qualified candidates.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked. “Could you please explain the nature of the threat we’re dealing with, or about to deal with?” How would our youth and inexperience help us?

The FBI director finally moved, withdrawing a manila folder from his briefcase. He slid them toward the two of us. It was thinner than most files I usually saw.

“After five years of surveillance, this is all theIntel we have gathered on the Crew,” he said in a voice full of defeat.

“The Crew? What kind of name is that? Never heard of them,” muttered the Indian woman. How could she be this flippant at such an important meeting?

“That’s no surprise,” replied the director. “The Crew thrives on obscurity. But make no mistake, they are the most dangerous criminal syndicate operating in the world today. They have established a stranglehold on the international markets for drugs, guns, and other controlled items. If it is illegal and promises wealth, the Crew moves in to take a cut. There is not one criminal deal occurring that they do not have their hands in. They think nothing of killing anyone who challenges them or investigates them. Even hardened drug lords and assassins fear them. From what we’ve learned, seven brilliant and savage men gathered to found the Crew. They’ve grown rapidly and violently in just ten years of operation. With their minds, they could’ve run a business or invented medical cures. Instead, they chose to become the biggest criminals on the planet.” He sighed, shook his head, and squeezed his temples. Giving that little speech made him tired.

I opened the file and skimmed through the documents. The Indian woman glanced as well. I caught a part of her ID card and saw her first name. It was Ada. We saw a few blurry photos, pictures of seized contraband, some handwritten notes, and some incomplete case reports. It wasn’t much to work with.

“Is this it?” Ada asked. “Why’s there so little info? Usually after a few years of reconnaissance, I would’ve guessed that we’d have a file cabinet full of evidence.”

“The Crew is unlike any other modern crime syndicate in existence,” explained the ATF director. “They recognize the power and the dangers of social media and also the current surveillance technology. They have a policy of never being photographed, never using credit cards, and even never doing anything that could provide a paper trail.”

“So they’re living off the grid, like survivalists in the forest?” I speculated.

“Not exactly. While they’ve removed all traces of themselves from the Internet, they’re not recluses. They are known to live it up by spending vast sums of money at clubs, hotels, and restaurants. They socialize with elites and live like celebrities, while hiding themselves under assumed names,” answered the DEA director, my ultimate boss.“They stay abreast of the news and never let criminals forget that they’re in charge.”

The FBI director cleared his throat. “While this is all a lot for you to take in, we really need to discuss the mission that we are formulating,” he said. The other directors nodded in approval. “We are dispatching the two of you on an undercover reconnaissance campaign to gather incriminating evidence of the Crew’s criminal activities. This mission will have an initial duration of six months, and will be extended if the results prove satisfactory. Your duties are to make contact with and become intimately familiar with any number of Crew members, and ideally obtain the identity of at least one of the Crew’s core leaders. Do you understand the basic goals of your mission, should you choose to accept it?”

Ada and I were lost in our thoughts for a while. Both of us must have been reeling from the revelations we received in the past five minutes. Finally, I raised the first of many questions I had.

“Why are you choosing us to accept it? I mean, you said we’re both novices, and that makes us ready for this mission? Why not choose someone more experienced and – ready for this assignment? We only just heard of the Crew.”

“I understand your confusion,” assured the DEA director. “We don’t blame none for the apprehension that both of you must be feeling. However, we chose the two of you for a number of reasons. First of all, neither of you have extensive careers in your respective agencies, and given your youth, minimal information concerning your identity is available to be seen by anyone on the Internet. Our forensics teams can easily conceal crucial parts of your past to ensure your safety on this mission.” Hearing that last bit chilled me.

“Second,” began the ATF head, “we examined the results of the personality tests you both took when applying to work for the federal government. The two of you received inordinately close scores, indicating a high level of ability to work together. Since this mission requires the utmost collaboration and mutual understanding, you must use your time before commencing the mission to develop a deep trust and understanding of one another for mission success.”