Bad Boy's Honor: An MMA Bad Boy Romance (59 page)

Anyway, the door was ajar. When people left doors open they wanted you to look in. That had to be true. I’d read it on the Internet somewhere.

I stood close to the door and leaned against the wall, trying to make it look like I was just waiting for someone, and then peaked through.    

Denton stood over a man currently trying to pick himself up off the floor. The man was muttering something about not being able to pay and needing more time.    

“You said that the last time,” Denton yelled. “And the time before that. I don’t usually give people three chances. I never give them a fourth.”    

The man clambered back to his feet, but the second he was upright, Denton swung a fist and crunched it into the man’s face.    

I gasped as the punch landed, and ducked back from the door in case Denton looked over. I’d never seen anyone hit like that before. We’d had some physical training at the FBI, but it was all heavily choreographed. I’d seen some MMA on television--I had a weak spot for Elliot Michaels--but seeing it in the flesh terrified me.

The man’s head had snapped to the side on contact, and for a split second, I thought the accompanying noise was his neck snapping. Denton’s punch hadn’t quite been that powerful, but I think some bones had been broken.

The man was back on the floor and this time he was spitting blood, barely able to breathe.

“Stand up, Perry” Denton commanded. “You know I don’t like hitting people when they’re already down.”

The man seemed to laugh, but with a mouthful of blood and possibly a broken jaw, it was kind of hard to tell.

“Not much incentive,” he mumbled, but did make an effort at getting to his feet.    

Then Perry took me by surprise, and Denton too by the looks of it. Before Perry was even upright, he lunged at Denton, who stumbled back against the wall in shock.    

Perry swung a couple of punches, and even though his technique wasn’t up to much, he made contact with Denton’s head which slammed back into the wall with a painful sounding thud.

On instinct, I closed my eyes, unable to watch, but then I forced them back open. This was exactly the sort of thing I’d been sent undercover to witness. I couldn’t close my eyes and pretend it wasn’t happening.    

Denton didn’t seem too fazed by the punch, but Perry got his attention when he pulled a knife from one of his pockets.    

“What do you think you’re doing with that thing?” Denton asked. He didn’t look at all concerned, but I was frightened enough for the both of us.

Perry was in a bad way, but that made him desperate. All it took was one lucky swing with that knife and… I didn’t even want to think about it.

“I’ve had enough,” Perry yelled. “You and your father have extracted everything you can from me. I’m ending this.”    

Denton seemed to be mouthing “come on, do it,” to Perry, as if he wanted him to try his luck. Perry did just that. He lunged forward, but Denton reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling Perry towards him, but sending the knife sailing harmlessly past his torso.    

Denton slammed a knee into Perry’s stomach, and then kicked his legs out from under him. Perry fell to the floor for a third time, but on this occasion he stayed there.

The fight was over, but I didn’t know what would happen next. Is this where Denton finished him off? According to my instructions from Lois, I could, and should, break my cover if I had the opportunity to save a human life, but she’d said it reluctantly.    

As far as Lois was concerned, this lot could all kill each other and she wouldn’t shed a tear. It would certainly make her job a lot easier.

For a brief moment, I considered stepping into the room, but Denton didn’t make any effort to pick up Perry’s knife that had fallen to the floor, and he appeared to be calming down and collecting his breath. It looked like Perry would live to fight another day.

The clamminess that had covered my neck earlier, was now a cold sweat, and I desperately needed to get to the bathroom to collect my thoughts. The fight had only lasted a couple of minutes, but the violence was so up close and personal that it would likely last etched on my memory for quite some time.

“Chloe,” Denton called out. My name stopped me in my tracks. He’d seen me. Could I pretend I was just walking passed on my way to the bathroom?    

“Yes,” I replied, not turning back to face the office.    

“You can come in.”

Shit. He must have seen me watching, otherwise he wouldn’t just casually invite me into a room with a bloody and beaten man on the floor.

I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. For a man concerned about discretion, he should have been a little more careful about leaving the door open.    

Once inside the office, I could see the bank of monitors on the wall, showing images from around the club, including one of the corridor just outside his office where I had been standing. He’d seen me. At least I hadn’t attempted to take pictures.

“You okay?” Denton asked. “That can’t have been pleasant to watch.”    

“I’ve seen worse,” I replied, thinking back to the time I peeked through the banisters of the stairs and watched my dad get beaten up for late payment on a debt. Mom hadn’t been at home to protect me, and Dad thought I was in bed. That image had haunted me for years.

“I’m fine,” Perry replied from the floor, and then laughed at his own joke.

“What happens to him?” I asked, trying to sound distant and carefree. We weren’t about to take him to a hospital, and I doubted someone in Perry’s line of work--whatever that was--wanted to go there anyway.    

“I’ll let him stumble out of here and think about what he’s done,” Denton replied.

“Do you want my help with--” I trailed off as I noticed the blood soaking through his tight white t-shirt on the left hand side of his stomach.

Denton looked down and was surprised as me to see all the blood. I heard Perry mutter “oh shit,” behind me and then scurry out of the room.    

“You’re bleeding,” I said, stating the obvious.

“That appears to be the case.”

Perry’s knife lay on the floor. It was coated in blood.    

Come on, Chloe, you’ve had training for this.

My first aid knowledge finally made its presence known in my brain, and I snapped out of the trance that had taken over me while I stared at the ever-increasing blood stain on his shirt.

“Where’s the first aid kit?” I asked. “You must have one.”

“I’m fine,” Denton replied. “It’ll heal by itself eventually.”

“You didn’t fall off your tricycle and scrape your knee, Denton. You’ve been stabbed.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that,” he replied, with a smile. “Alright Nurse Tamworth, the first aid kit is in that cupboard over there. Under the security monitors.”    

I headed over to the monitors, and caught a glimpse of Perry leaving the building. He already looked a lot better than he had a few minutes ago, and at least he didn’t have a stab wound to content with.    

I pulled the first aid kit out and examined the limited supplies. I wouldn’t be able to stitch it up, but there was alcohol to clean the wound and plenty of bandages and gauze.

“Take your shirt off,” I ordered.    

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”    

“Not really,” I lied.    

I couldn’t help but be a little curious about what he looked like under his tight t-shirt. Even with a knife wound in his side, he’d still be many multiples more appealing than any man I’d ever been with.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Denton asked. “Or do you just want to see me naked?”

“I’ve had first aid training,” I replied quickly, before thinking it through. “My school made me take classes.”    

Denton grabbed hold of the bottom of his t-shirt and went to pull it up over his head, but he barely moved it before grimacing in pain. The shirt had stuck to his wound and needed peeling off.

“Let me do it,” I said, walking over and trying to pull his arms off his shirt.

“I’m quite capable of removing my own shirt,” Denton insisted. “I’ve done it many times before.”

“And I’ve undressed men many times before,” I said cheekily.
Never one like you though.

Denton laughed, but the convulsion in his stomach made him moan in pain. “Okay, today’s your lucky day. You get to undress me. Savor the moment. Not many women get to experience this.”

“From what I’ve heard, quite a few women get to experience it.”    

“Good point. Alright, not many women
this week
have experienced it. What can I say, I’ve been busy with work.”

I took hold of the bottom of the shirt, careful to avoid the patches soaked in blood, and gently pulled it up towards his neck. Denton grimaced loudly as the shirt peeled away from his wound but he didn’t stop me.    

Once the shirt was clear of the wound, I reached up as high as I could go, but couldn’t get the shirt up over his head. He was too tall, and couldn’t bend over to make it easy on me.

“I thought you said you were experienced at taking shirts off men,” Denton said, while the shirt covered his face.

“They’re usually a little more cooperative,” I replied.    

Denton reached up with the arm from his good side and grabbed my wrist, holding it there for a few seconds, before moving on to the t-shirt and lifting it up over his head.    

Now I had a clear, unobstructed view of Denton Russell. He was right--I was lucky. There was only one tattoo, but it covered a large part of his chest, and extended onto his arms all the way down to his wrists.    

If the image was supposed to symbolize something, I had no idea what. Perhaps it was like those paintings psychiatrists made you look at and asked you what you saw. If you pictured a vagina then you had mommy issues, or something like that.

I couldn’t decide whether I actually liked the tattoo. Generally, I thought tattoos were horrible, pointless things, but I’d never really examined one up close like this before. The ink spread over the contours of the muscles defining a firm chest, and tight abs, like the type you saw on the front of men’s magazines. I’d always assumed they were faked or photoshopped, but the view in front of me now was real enough.

“You’re supposed to be looking at the wound,” Denton pointed out.    

“I am,” I lied.    

I tore my eyes away from the perfect male body in front of me, and poured some alcohol onto a cloth and wiped the blood away from around the wound. The knife had torn a nasty gash in the skin, but it hadn’t gone in deep enough to cause any internal damage.

“This is going to hurt,” I said, as I prepared to rub the alcohol directly on the open wound.    

“You’re not the first woman to say that after getting me naked,” Denton joked.

“Am I the first woman
this week
?”    

Denton laughed loudly, forgetting--or not caring--that doing so caused him immense pain. “You’ve a wicked sense of humor on you. I think I’m going to enjoy having you around.”    

“You might not be saying that in a second,” I said, as I pressed the alcohol soaked cloth against his skin.    

Denton didn’t scream, but his hand gripped my arm tightly letting me know just how much discomfort I was causing him. His flesh on my arm sent electricity sparking through my body, but not from how hard he was holding me.    

Now I knew why all those women fell for him. He actually did have a raw animal magnetism to him. His touch sent sparks dancing across the surface of my skin.    

I tried to keep my eyes focused on the wound. At least that stopped me getting overly aroused as my fingers brushed against his abs. Once the wound was clean I put the cloth down and Denton relaxed.    

“That hurts like hell,” he snarled.

“You didn’t even notice getting stabbed and yet you make a fuss at a little bit of alcohol.”

“I don’t notice pain when the adrenaline’s flying through my system. I wouldn’t be much of a fighter if I did.”    

“You’re not supposed to be a fighter,” I pointed out. “You’re supposed to be the CEO of a large company.”    

“Everyone needs a hobby.”

I laughed and shook my head. It wasn’t until later I realized that the laugh was genuine and not part of the act I was putting on for his benefit.    

“You need stitches,” I said.

“I’ll be fine. Cuts heal eventually.”

“This isn’t a cut, it’s a stab wound. Let’s go the hospital now. I’m guessing you have expensive insurance; might as well use it.”

“No hospitals,” Denton insisted, making it clear that was the end of the conversation.

“Fine. I’ll cover it up for now. You’ll change your mind when the wound keeps coming open.”

“Well if you’re going to undress me every time I bleed, that might not be so bad.”    

I looked up from the wound and saw him smiling at me, but I had no idea if he was joking or not. Either way, playing around with him was a surefire way of gaining his trust. It’s what Lois would want me to do.

“Just try not to get stabbed on the leg next time,” I replied. “I don’t get down on my knees in front of a man without at least a nice meal first.”

I took some Steri-Strips from the first aid kit and bandaged up the wound as best I could, but he was still bleeding.

“You’ll need to clean the wound again in the morning,” I said, handing Denton the alcohol. “And no, I will not be there to do it for you.”    

“Not even if I buy you a nice meal?” Denton joked.    

“Not even if you buy me the restaurant.”

Denton insisted on staying in the office for a few more hours, but he called for a car to take me home. I tried one more time to get him to go to the hospital, but he was more stubborn than any man I had ever met. Most men had a touch of that in them, but I didn’t know many who would refuse to go to the hospital after being stabbed.

The truth was, I didn’t know many men like Denton, period. During my briefings before starting this operation, Denton had been made out to be a two-dimensional bad boy thug, running daddy’s businesses by day and his crime empire by night. When he wasn’t working, he was playing with a string of models and actresses.    

On the surface, everything I’d seen today fit that description. I hadn’t seen him with any women yet, but he’d been busy with work all day. He’d worked in the office all day and then spent his evening beating people up for not repaying their loans.