Hard Tackle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (35 page)

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.

I
t 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.

What was that she said about her dad? Killed by the police. She looked all sweet and innocent on the outside, but perhaps her upbringing had a little in common with mine. A little, not a lot. No one’s upbringing could be quite like mine.

I went to the bathroom to wash my hands, and splash some cold water on my face. Looking myself in the mirror afterwards was always the hardest part. When the rage hit, I could roll with the punches, so to speak, but when the adrenaline had left my system I often found myself haunted by my actions.

Not that I regretted what I did this morning. I’d have done anything short of killing that man if it gave me even a one-in-ten chance of finding Kara’s killer.  

But not regretting it didn’t make it any easier to live with my actions. At least I hadn’t been beating up random men who owed my dad money. I hated it when he left me in charge of the dirty work.  

I didn’t have to do it myself, that’s what the hired thugs were for, but I didn’t feel right asking people to do something I wouldn’t do personally. That was my dad’s
modus operandi
and I was determined not to take after him, even if it did look inevitable that I would take over the family business one day.

At this point, the family business
almost
looked like a legitimate operation. Most of the money now came from our food packaging business. We even had one of the big accounting firms signing off on the accounts each year. Best not to think too much about the source of the start-up capital though.  

We ran other businesses that dealt in cash and served as a decent way to launder money that otherwise would look suspicious appearing in our bank accounts. I didn’t work with those on a regular basis, but I couldn’t deny profiting from them.

Once I’d washed the dried blood from my hands, I went back to my office and tried to get my mind focused on the job. As much as I hated the ‘beating people up’ part of the job, I wasn’t exactly cut out for office work either.  

I typically made it through about two or three emails at most before my mind started to wander and I picked up my phone or browsed the Internet. Corporate work was just so fucking boring, but I needed to keep on top of things. If I wasn’t seen to be running the business then people would start getting suspicious. Appearances were important.

Appearances. That reminded me of Chloe, except this time I didn’t just think of her as the girl who looked like Kara. Chloe was attractive in her own right. In fact, she was far more than just attractive. The girl was stunning.  

I closed my eyes and pictured her sitting opposite me, looking up at me with a nervous, deferential look on her face. It wasn’t unusual for women to act nervous and awkward around me; I had that effect on them. Always had.  

But Chloe wasn’t looking at me like that. She acted more concerned with the job than me personally, which wasn’t something I was used to. Women at this company had quit their jobs just because I’d told them I don’t like dipping my pen in the company ink.

I sat there for an hour as I tried to accomplish something that would take my mind off what happened this morning. The only way not to think about my failed attempt to track down Roddy was to think about Chloe, and that didn’t seem to be much better.

She deserved better than having me reject her so abruptly. I sent out a few emails to the few legitimate business acquaintances I still had, and asked if they needed a personal assistant. It was the least I could do for someone so talented.

By the time my stomach started growling at me and demanded I eat something, all I had accomplished was signing off on next month’s budget, which just involved me sanity checking it and telling Joan that I approved. I didn’t understand most of it, and I didn’t care to learn. I knew jack shit about finances, but I knew how to hire good people and that was far more important.

I stood up and started to head out for lunch, but the phone on my desk rang before I made it to the door. I could just ignore it, but people needed me to make decisions and at least that way I could be of some use.  

I pressed the button to answer the call on speaker, and simultaneously pulled my cellphone out of my pocket to give myself something to look at when the conversation started to bore me as it inevitably would.

“Denton, where the hell were you this morning?” James asked before I could even say hello.

“I’ve been in my office all morning, James,” I replied. “Some of us have to work for a living, you know?”  

“Bloody hell, Denton. You were supposed to come down to the docks this morning, remember?”  

“The docks?”  

“Yes. We had a collection to make.”

A collection. That was James’ way of saying that we needed to go kick the shit out of some people who owed us money. I doubted anyone was listening in to our telephone calls, but it paid to be paranoid in this line of work.  

“I don’t remember any collection this morning,” I replied, as I frantically tried to open the calendar on my computer.

Jimmy sighed. “Denton, you’re the boss’ kid so it’s not like I can tear you a new one, but I’m seriously tempted right now.”

The calendar opened and I saw it--I should have been there an hour ago. The calendar entry was described as a “sales call,” but I didn’t recognize the name of the business. The order had come directly from Dad, and I never questioned those.

“Was it important?” It was a stupid question. If it wasn’t important, James and I wouldn’t have been going personally.

“Yes, and you left me in the shit. Fortunately I’d brought a few additional heavies along, but if they weren’t there then things could have gotten nasty. For me, not the debtor.”

“But you handled it?”

“I handled it, but if you leave me in the lurch like that one more fucking time, I swear to God there will be consequences.”

“Sorry, James, that was my bad. Won’t happen again.”

James sighed, and I sensed the anger fade. He’d slipped back into close friend mode. James was a close friend of Dad’s, but he’d been around so much he was more like an uncle.

“It will though won’t it,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation. “You need an assistant. You were always shit at organizing your schedule.”

“I’ll hire someone soon,” I lied. I wasn’t ready to hire anyone just yet.

“What about that girl from New York? She had an excellent résumé.”  

“How do you know about her?”  

“Who do you think is vetting all the applicants? I know how picky you are, so I’m only letting through the very best.”

“Chloe didn’t work out,” I said, not elaborating.

Jimmy stayed silent on the other end, and for a brief moment I thought the conversation might be over. No such luck.

“You have to replace her eventually,” Jimmy said softly. He knew this was a touchy subject and hoped that sounding like a kindly uncle would make it easier. It didn’t.

“Kara cannot be replaced,” I replied defiantly. “Not by anyone.”

“How long did you know Kara?” Jimmy asked. “Fifteen? Twenty years?”

“Since I was about five years old,” I replied. “So twenty years. Listen, is there a point to all this? Or do you just want to rub salt in the wounds?”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do, Denton. Listen to me. When you think of Kara, what do you think about?”

Pain. Despair. Death. Utter abject misery. But it hadn’t always been like that.  

“She was my best friend. Loyal to the end.”

“So you don’t think of her as your PA?” James asked.

“No, of course not. She did that to help me out, but she was my friend first and foremost.”

“Exactly. By hiring a new PA, you’re not replacing Kara. You’re replacing one of the many things she did for you, but you’re not replacing
her
. She’ll always be the best friend you had from childhood. No one can change that.”

I let James’ words hang in the air for a few moments while I did my best to let them sink in. Kara had been the perfect assistant, because I trusted her implicitly. Whoever took her place would need to be just as trustworthy.  

“You are good at making speeches,” I admitted.

“Just remember that when you get married and need a best man.”

“
If
I get married, you can definitely do the job.”

It was an empty promise, given that the likelihood of me getting married was about the same as Dad giving up on a life of crime and giving all his money to charity. A
real
charity, not the phony ones he ran to claim a tax deduction.

“So you’ll give Chloe a shot at the job?” Jimmy asked. “She’s experienced, although whether that’s enough to keep you in order I don’t know.”

“Sure. If it keeps you off my back, I’ll do it.”  

“Good man. Get her in as soon as possible. Word on the street is that big things are happening in the near future with our close personal friends over the road. I want you on the top of your game.”

‘Close personal friends,’ was James’ way of referring to the Bartons. They might be considering making a move on our territory. There was no way in hell I was going to let that happen.  

I didn’t care about protecting Dad’s investments, but I did care about not letting Roddy Barton win.  

I said goodbye to Jimmy, and dug Chloe’s résumé out of the trash. Her number was at the top. Jimmy was right--she was qualified and capable of doing the job. But could she be trusted?