Hard Tackle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (48 page)

I
’d fucked up
. 

Again.

The second I’d received the email about Roddy, I’d left the office and jumped in my car, before driving well in excess of the speed limit all the way to his house out of town. 

I’d arrived in less than an hour. The second I stepped out of the car, I’d entered something resembling a trance. I didn’t have control of my own body anymore. It was like I’d given instructions to a robot and now the robot was going to carry them out. I just happened to be looking through its eyes.

As I walked up the driveway towards the house, I didn’t felt any of the emotions I’d expected to feel at this stage. I wasn’t excited or nervous. I wasn’t anxious, and I definitely wasn’t scared. 

I was just a man on a mission. A mission that, once completed, would mark the end of the worst chapter of my entire life and hopefully the beginning of the best chapter. That was, if Chloe could ever forgive me. 

She had to. I’d make her understand what I’d done. I’d beg for forgiveness until she let me back into her life. But right now, I had a job to do.

I’d been so intent on getting into the house that I hadn’t even bothered to do a sweep for security. I got lucky. A guard--armed--appeared from around the corner, but I was able to duck behind a bush just before he turned to look in my direction.

The guard kept walking around the front of the house. He had a casual gait, almost as if he were just out for an evening stroll with his AK-47 to burn off some calories after dinner. 

I waited for ten minutes to monitor the patrols, but there were only two men, and they walked so slowly that getting into the house would be easy. There might be more men inside, but given how laid back they appeared, I fancied my chances. 

I didn’t even need to go in the front door. One of the upper windows was open and I would easily be able to climb up there by getting on the lower window, then going across to the porch over the door, and then up through the window. Piece of cake.

This was going to be easy. In hindsight, that should have sounded some alarm bells, but I was too focused on killing Roddy to pay any attention.

It was a trap, and I walked straight into it.

I clambered in through the window into a dark room. I’d assumed it was empty, but I heard movement in the far corner. The second my foot touched the floor, two men stood up and pointed guns at me. 

I’d have been dead if I hadn’t got my foot caught in the curtains and tripped over. The men fired into an empty space, but it took them a while to notice they had missed their target. In that time, I managed to scramble over and disarm one of them. 

I smashed his head against the wall, knocking him out cold, and then grabbed his gun before firing two bullets into the other guy. 

I think I left him alive, although I couldn’t say for certain. He didn’t get a shot off at me as I left, but then most people who’d been shot were in no position to shoot back. Life was not like the movies in that respect.

Roddy wasn’t here, so there was no point searching the house. He wouldn’t put himself at risk by being in the same house as an attempt on my life.

I ran back to the car and drove straight to my place to get cleaned up. I couldn’t get changed without Chloe knowing I’d lied about where I was, but if there were any specks of blood on me I’d need to get them cleaned up.

As I was strolling quickly down the hall towards my apartment, I sent Chloe a quick message to let her know I’d be there soon. 

When I looked up from my phone I saw Chloe standing outside my apartment. 

She looked pissed.

“
C
hloe
. What are you doing here?” 

“Waiting for you,” she replied. “Open the door.”

This couldn’t be good. She looked mad. Madder than she would be if I had just been a few hours late for dinner. 

I opened the door and let her in, while quickly checking myself out in the mirror by the door. There didn’t appear to be any visible blood, so that was something. I might still be able to keep my whereabouts a secret.

“You went to Barton’s place and killed him,” Chloe yelled.

Perhaps not.

I couldn’t lie about where I’d been. She knew. 

“I went there to talk to him. That’s all. And he wasn’t there anyway.” 

“No. You went there to kill him. Don’t lie to me.”

Before I could dig myself any deeper, Chloe stepped forward and wrapped her arm around my waist. For one sweet moment, I thought she was going to hug me and we would be done arguing. No such luck. 

Her hand went straight to the gun strapped to the back of my belt. 

“Do you always take a gun with you when you go to talk?”

“Chloe, I can explain.”

“There’s no need. I understand perfectly well what’s going on here. I thought… I thought you cared about me. I thought you felt something. God, I sound so fucking naive.”

“I do care about you. You know I do.”

“Just not enough to do the one thing I asked. Was it really that big a request? I was asking you not to murder someone. It’s hardly unreasonable.”

“He’s not just ‘someone,’ Chloe. He’s fucking Roddy Barton. He deserves to die.”

“That’s not your choice to make. But you made the choice anyway. I hope you’re happy with the outcome.”

I reached out to grab her arm, but she saw me coming and deflected my arm with surprising ease. She must have had self-defense classes. When would I learn to stop underestimating her?

Chloe fled my apartment and made it clear that I shouldn’t follow her. 

Now I had the worst of both worlds. Roddy Barton was still alive, and Chloe was mad at me anyway. At least if I’d killed Roddy I would be able to take some consolation from Chloe not speaking to me.

But even that wouldn’t be enough. Chloe was right; I’d made my choice and it was the wrong one. Even killing Roddy wouldn’t compensate for seeing the look of pure vitriol on Chloe’s face when she looked at me. 

She’d hate me forever if I killed Roddy in cold blood. I wanted him dead, but for the first time, I realized it wasn’t worth it. Nothing was worth losing Chloe over. 

I might be too late, but I had to try. 

I wasn’t about to give Chloe up without a fight.

W
as I being a hypocrite
?

Probably. I’d yelled at Denton for not doing the one thing I asked of him, but who was I to make requests? 

I was the one who’d been spying on him for three weeks. I’d probably be pulled off the case soon. I hardly recorded any of my conversations with Denton, and the ones I did send across were bland and uneventful. 

Lois would know I spent the night at his place recently. The fact that she hadn’t even tried to talk to me about it suggested it couldn’t have come as less of a surprise. 

I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to be off this case and away from Denton. Away from Chicago. Away from everything that reminded me of Denton. I wouldn’t forget him in a hurry, but I had to start trying to put him in my past. 

That would be a lot easier if he wasn’t banging at my door and yelling for me to let him in. He must have taken all of thirty minutes to cool off and think about it, before coming round here and making a scene.

“Let me in, Chloe. We need to talk.” 

I had plenty I wanted to say to him, but I’d left his apartment for a reason. If I’d stayed any longer I would have burst into tears, and I didn’t want him to see me like that. 

I also didn’t want all my neighbors to hear an angry man pounding on my door. 

I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself, before opening the door wide enough to talk to him. He reached a hand in and pushed the door open, sending me staggering back in the process. 

“We’re not having this conversation in the hall.”

“We’re not having this conversation at all,” I replied. “If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Watch me,” I said, before grabbing my phone and storming into the bedroom. I faked a call to the police, but Denton didn’t leave. 

I heard Denton sit down on the sofa. “Come out and talk to me,” he yelled. “I just want to apologize for the way I acted tonight.”

I sat on the bed and rubbed my temples with my fingers. I knew if I went out there he would be able to win me round, but I didn’t want it to be that easy. How would I ever be able to trust him again? How would he ever be able to trust me when he found out who I was?

“Chloe,” Denton called out again, this time with a hint of confusion in his voice. “Would you say your grandmother was familiar with computers before she died?”

That was not a question I’d been expecting, but it was at least easier than having to listen to him pretending to be sorry.

“No,” I replied. “I don’t think she ever even went online. Why?”

Just then, Denton appeared in the doorway holding the necklace. The necklace that was supposed to belong to my grandmother. 

Denton looked angry. Really angry. 

“I only ask,” he said slowly, each word coming out with venom. “Because your grandmother's necklace appears to have a built in USB connector.”

At some point, I really should have prepared a back up story in case anyone ever discovered that part of the necklace. Too late now.

“Oh, that’s weird. She must have lied to me about how old it was. I expect she bought it at a sale and didn’t even know what it was.”

Denton just stared at me. I couldn’t look him in the eyes after that lie. It was pathetic. I should have just told him the truth. It’s not like we could be together now anyway. He might as well hear my side of it.

“Denton, I need to--”

“It’s true, isn’t it? James said you were an undercover agent, but I just laughed at him. You’ve been spying on my this entire time.”

“It’s not how it looks,” I pleaded. I wanted to go over there and wrap my arms around him. We could both admit our mistakes and move on. But right now, Denton wouldn’t let me anywhere near him, and to be honest, I couldn’t blame him.

“All this has just been you trying to gather evidence. What did you hope to achieve by fucking me? Was that to gain my trust? Or do you just like fucking the men you’re investigating?”

Now I wanted to walk up there and slap him around the face. I would have done if I’d have thought for a second he’d even feel it.

“I’ve been gathering evidence on your father,” I said, trying to sound like an FBI agent, and not a heartbroken teenager. “I haven’t given them any information about you. Nothing they didn’t already know. And everything that happened between us was real. It was even more real--I wasn’t supposed to fall for you, but I couldn’t help it.”

“So what now? Are you going to arrest me? I’m sure you have plenty of evidence to use against me.”

“I’m not going to arrest you. I’d never do that. I’ve been trying to keep you out of prison. Why do you think I tried to stop you killing Ruddy?”

“At least that explains why you were so against it. I would have thought someone who’d lost their father to…” I looked down at the floor between my feet, unable to support the biggest lie I’d told Denton. “He didn’t get killed by cops, did he?”

I shook my head. “He got killed by a gang. Dad had a gambling problem. He often borrowed money from people like… well, people like you and your Dad. He struggled to repay the debts, until one day…” 

“Someone like my dad decided enough was enough?”

I nodded. “That’s why I went along with this assignment in the first place. I thought I was helping.”

“Helping who?” Denton snapped. 

“I don’t know. Helping make the world a better place? It sounds silly, but I thought I could help.”

I fought back the tears because I didn’t want Denton to see me cry, but the only way I could do that was to get angry. I still had a right to be angry. Yes, I had betrayed Denton. But I’d done that before we’d even met. Denton had betrayed me after we fell for each other. That was worse, wasn’t it? Or at least just as bad.

We should be even. 

But trust didn’t work like that. You couldn’t trust someone just because you’d both betrayed each other equally. 

“You should leave,” I said softly. “Please go.”

“Oh I’m leaving,” Denton replied. “I’m going before say something incriminating and end up in jail. Should I expect a visit from the FBI shortly?” 

I shook my head. “I told you, I didn’t give them anything they didn’t already know. Believe it or not, I genuinely wanted to help you.”

Denton didn’t say anything else. He left the apartment and slammed the door behind him. 

The smell of the food from the kitchen now made me nauseous instead of hungry. We were supposed to be sharing a nice meal--likely after some time in the bedroom--but now it just reminded me of a man I needed to forget.

I genuinely didn’t care about my job anymore. It seemed pointless and irrelevant. I did want Keiran to end up in prison, but not at the expense of Denton’s own freedom.

I suspected the FBI had more motivation to bring down Denton than his father, even though his father was the one guilty of serious crimes. Denton was photogenic and a well known figure in the city. He reveled in the limelight. Catching him would be a huge coup for the FBI and for Lois. 

Perhaps I was being unfair, but I found it impossible to care about the case anymore. Capturing a guilty man didn’t make up for imprisoning an innocent one.

I hadn’t been in this apartment long, but I’d made it feel like home. The furniture all belonged to the FBI, so they’d use it for the next poor agent tasked with going undercover in Chicago. 

I sighed and started packing up some of my clothes, but the suitcase wasn’t even a third full when I finally broke down in tears. 

Without this job, I never would have met Denton in the first place, but the job had now torn us apart, and there was no way back. Some things were unforgivable. 

We were both as bad as each other, but Denton would move on easily enough. He had women lining up for him. I couldn’t move on that quickly.

I picked up my phone to email Lois. I couldn’t face a phone call, so a resignation email would have to suffice. I wasn’t cut out to be an FBI agent.