Bad Boy's Honor: An MMA Bad Boy Romance (53 page)

Opposing counsel had been so obsessed with keeping women and minorities off the jury, who would supposedly be biased against the defendant, that they hadn’t bothered asking the jurors many questions. 

That allowed me to slip through a juror whose wife had won a case for discrimination, a man who’d been fired from the department store a few months ago, and three other people who described themselves as staunchly in favor of increased protection for employees in the workplace. 

I had this case in the bag. 

In addition to having the jurors on my side, I also had my lucky charm in the audience. Foster had been to every single one of my court appearances, even though he was now a partner at Arrington, Arrington, & Hedges. 

He’d been welcomed back into the fold once it became clear that PorTupe was a complete shambles. As Foster had predicted, Zach tried to bribe Bryan and other lawyers at the DOJ, which went down about as well as you can imagine. 

The ensuing scandal nearly took Cooper & Cooper into bankruptcy, but at the last minute they merged with another firm in the corporate field. The competent attorneys from Cooper & Cooper stayed on at the new firm, but Zach got booted out within the month. 

I had a feeling he’d worm his way out of the bribery prosecution, but he wouldn’t work as a lawyer again either way. I had zero sympathy for him. He’d made his bed, now he had to lie in it.

The trial went smoothly, even though I nearly lost my way during the closing argument. We won the case convincingly which hopefully meant opposing counsel wouldn’t bother trying to find grounds for an appeal. By the time the case made it to an appellate court, I would be on leave from work and wouldn’t be able to handle the case.

“Great work, baby,” Foster said, once we were outside the courtroom. He kissed me on the cheek and put his hand on the small of my back. 

“Thanks.” I had to tell him the news today. I’d thrown up the last three mornings, but he’d already left for work each time. He’d catch me soon enough though. 

“How about we go grab a drink?” Foster asked. 

It would have to be non-alcoholic. “Sure. Where do you want to go?” 

“How about we go back to the rooftop bar near my office?”

“Back to where it all began?” I asked.

“I have very fond memories from that night.” 

“Me too. And I think after tonight you’ll have some more.”

“What does that mean?” he asked. 

“You’ll find out soon enough.” I touched my stomach unconsciously, even though there was no bump to give away the secret just yet. 

Foster and I argued a fair bit, but we always made up quickly and passionately. It came with the territory of being two busy lawyers. One argument we wouldn’t need to have was the baby name. If it was a boy, we would name him Steve after Foster’s dad. If it was a girl, we would name her Laura, after Mom. 

Boy or girl, the baby was going to be spoiled rotten by Foster, and our parents. That kid would never want for a thing. 

Neither would I. Not with Foster.

“I love you,” Foster said, out of the blue, as we walked to the bar. 

“I love you too,” I replied. He was going to be a great dad.

The distinctive noise of a bone breaking echoed off the walls of the empty factory floor as my fist collided with Warren’s face. I checked my hand to make sure the bone wasn’t one of mine, but other than some bruising and bloody knuckles I was in good shape.

The same couldn’t be said for Warren.

The force of my punch sent him staggering back against the wall which stopped him from falling flat on his ass, but left him open for another punch.  

My right hand still stung from the first punch, so I swung my left fist into his face with all the effort I could muster. Even with my uncoordinated left hand, I still did enough damage to send him down to the floor in a sniveling heap.  

Warren spat blood onto the floor as he moaned in pain. He reached a hand up to his face to examine the damage, but the second his fingers touched his jawbone he screamed and snapped them away.  

Yeah, there was definitely a broken bone in there somewhere. I probably should have thought this through a little more. I needed him to talk. He couldn’t do that if I broke too many bones.

“Tell me where he is,” I yelled.  

“I’m telling you, I don’t know.”

I pulled back my leg and smashed my foot into his stomach. Warren half moaned, half yelled in anger as he lay helpless on the floor. God dammit, now I was almost feeling sorry for this creep. Then I remembered Kara.  

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Where do you meet? How do you get your instructions?”

“I’ve never met the boss. I’m just an enforcer. There are hundreds of people above me. Christ, I don’t get paid enough for this.”  

I suspected he was telling the truth, but there was only one way to be sure about that. I picked up his leg, and pulled a knife out of my pocket. The knife was for show; I rarely needed a knife to scare anyone, and it was much more satisfying doing the job with my fists.  

“Tell me, Warren, ever wonder what life would be like without a knee-cap?”

“Oh God no, no, please don’t!”  

I stuck my knife through the cheap denim of his jeans and tore a large gash in his pants, exposing his knee.  

“I’ll give you a clue,” I said slowly, gently pressing the knife against the skin just under his knee. “It hurts. A lot. But that’s not the worst bit. Pain goes away eventually, but then you’re left without a knee and I’m guessing Roddy Barton doesn’t provide comprehensive medical insurance for his lackeys.”  

“I don’t know where he is. Please believe me.”

“Life without knees is tough. There’s a reason millions of years of evolution gave us them in the first place.”

“I get my instructions from Ray,” Warren blurted out. “Usually. Sometimes it’s Ed, but usually Ray.”  

“And where can I find them?”  

“I only ever meet them here at the factory, but they show up randomly. I never know when they’re going to arrive.”

Warren tried to pull his leg out of my grasp, but I tightened my grip and pressed the knife deeper into his flesh. Deep enough to draw blood. Warren screamed again, probably more from the fear of losing a knee than from the actual pain of the cut on his leg.  

Fear was more powerful than pain when trying to torture someone.

“Keep still, Warren,” I said calmly. “If you struggle, I’ll assume you’re lying to me.”  

Warren relaxed slightly and I rewarded him by reducing the pressure of the knife on his skin.  

“I’m not lying, I swear. Roddy doesn’t tell people like me what he’s doing. I don’t think even Ray and Ed know. They get their orders from someone else.”

“So no one knows anything. Is that about the gist of it?”  

“It’s how he stays hidden.”

I should never have gotten my hopes up. One of my dad’s friends, James, had given me a great lead that led me here, to one of Roddy’s factories that he used as a cover for his less legitimate operations.  

I knew how to spot a fake business. Dad and I ran enough of them ourselves, after all. They were obvious when you knew what you were looking for.  

I’d been so sure that this would lead me to Roddy--Kara’s killer--that I never stopped to think things through. Now Roddy would just go deeper into hiding. I should have staked the place out, found the important people, and followed them.  

This was what I got for acting on impulse.

“Let’s pretend I believe you for a second,” I said as Warren examined his teeth with his tongue, trying to spot if any of them were broken. They were all covered in blood at this point so it was hard to tell, but it looked like he had a full set. “What do you know about Kara?”

“I don’t know anyone called Kara,” Warren replied. “I swear I don’t. We have a few women in the organization, but I don’t know their names.”

“She doesn’t work for your organization,” I replied fiercely. “She doesn’t work for anyone. Not any more. Roddy killed her.”  

Suddenly Warren laughed, or at least he tried to, but he ended up just coughing and spraying blood all over his clothes.  

“Something funny?” I asked, pressing the knife back into his flesh harder than before.

Warren yelled in pain, but transformed it into a manic laugh. “I thought this was business. It’s all about a chick. Fuck, man, all this just because of some dead bit of tail.”

Warren’s next scream didn’t become a laugh. I lowered his leg and brought my foot crashing down on it, breaking his shin bone in the process.  

I left Warren screaming in agony on the floor. The morning shift would be here soon, so he’d get help. Eventually.  

Over the past five years, I’d thrown more punches and broken more bones than I cared to count. But usually I had an excuse--my father made me. Dad ran the biggest crime syndicate in Chicago, and I was his second-in-command. I had to get my hands dirty occasionally to keep people scared of us.  

I never gave it much thought. I was dealing with scum who usually deserved a lot more than just a beating. At least, that’s what I told myself when I tried to sleep at night.  

Now though… now I was acting on my own. Dad hadn’t ordered me to chase down Kara’s killer. In fact, he’d ordered me to stay well clear of it.  

Kara’s not worth starting a war over. She was just a pawn. We’ll wipe Roddy’s crew off the face of the planet one day, but not yet. When we’re ready.

Kara might not have been important to Dad, but to me she was my world. And Roddy took her from me.  

I didn’t enjoy beating people up for a living, but I was damn good at it. Those skills were going to come in use now, because if there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that Roddy would pay for what he did.  

Roddy killed Kara to get at me.  

He wants a war.  

He’s going to get one.