Hard Tackle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (49 page)

S
omeone was going
to die tonight.  

Roddy was my first choice. If not him, then the man who actually did the deed and killed Kara. If not him, then someone else.  

Hell, there was a good chance I would be the one to die. So be it. Right now, that didn’t seem like a bad idea, so long as I took down one of the Bartons with me.

I went straight to Dad’s office. It was late, but he’d be there.  

If you wanted to kill someone, Dad was the best person to talk to. He had a mental list of people he needed disappearing. Maybe I could actually be useful to him for once.

“Well look who it is,” Dad said as I walked in. Uncle James was there as well. “I see you’ve had a busy evening.”

“What do you mean?” He couldn’t possibly know about Chloe already.  

“I heard from my contacts that you tried to kill Roddy Barton. Broke into his house and shot one of his guards.”

“Word gets around fast,” I remarked.  

“Nothing happens in this city without me knowing about it,” Dad replied arrogantly.  

Shame you didn’t know Kara was going to get kidnapped and murdered, you lying piece of shit.

“We have a mole in their organization,” James said. “A couple actually. I guess you have a few contacts of your own, or you never would have gone there. Roddy got word of your visit and left about five minutes before you got there. His team even set a trap which you walked right into.”

“You stupid son of bitch,” Dad snarled at me.

“Dad, you do realize that when you call me… you know what, nevermind. I’ve been after Roddy for months and I’m done waiting. You have contacts--tell me where he is.”

“I don’t know. If I knew, I’d kill him myself.”

I heard a woman in high heels approaching, and turned to see a long legged brunette in a short skirt that barely qualified as a belt, and a top so low cut her breasts were practically falling out.  

She was just my type. Or at least, she used to be.  

“I’m leaving,” Dad said, standing up and walking out with the girl who must be younger than me. I never understood why Mom put up with all his mistresses and affairs, but she’d never been all that bothered by it.

“Your dad really doesn’t know about Roddy,” James said, once Dad was out of earshot. “He’s been distracted lately, spending more time with women than running the business.”  

“If I ran this place, he’d be dead already.”

“I don’t doubt it.” James paused, cutting the end off a cigar with a knife and then lighting it. He took a long puff and then added “I have information. About Kara’s killer.”

“You do? Tell me. I need to know.”

“I can’t be certain at this point, but if I’m right… God, if I’m right, we’re all in trouble.”

I frowned. “Why would we be in trouble? Whoever it was, I’ll kill them.”

“You’ll need to get in line. I think the killer is one of our own men.”

I snorted and dismissed the suggestion with a wave of the hand. “That’s nonsense. The men are all scared of Dad, and they have every reason to be. None of them would ever step out of line like that.”

“I know,” James said, looking as puzzled as I was. “It came as a surprise to me as well.”

“Maybe I’m underestimating Roddy. Maybe he’s
worse
than Dad.”  

“Maybe… Or maybe Roddy wasn’t the one who gave the order. The more I think about it, the less sense it makes for Roddy to take this step. The man is usually subtle. His kids aren’t, but he hates that. No, Roddy doesn’t do his own dirty work.”

“You’re saying I have an enemy out there I don’t even know about?”  

“At the very least, someone wants to upset you, get you riled up. Who would want to do that?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going to find him.”

“Need any help?”

“No. This I need to take care of this myself. Give me whatever information you have. I’m going to find him.”

James handed me a few pieces of paper with names and numbers of his contacts written down.  

“You need an alibi?”

I nodded. “I’m going to handle this tonight. Kara’s murderer won’t live to see the sun rise.”

D
enton apparently had
no idea I saw his emails. As his assistant, I had complete access to his inbox and calendar, a point he forgot when he sent an email to the IT department telling them to revoke my access first thing in the morning.

I don’t know why it hurt so much to read that email. It’s not like I’d planned to go into work the next morning. The email just made everything seem so final, like how giving instructions to a divorce attorney might make it clear the marriage was over.

I hadn’t been planning to snoop on Denton’s emails. I only opened my email account to go through all the ones he’d sent me since I started to delete anything that might incriminate him. Denton was usually careful about what he included in emails, but the code his family liked to use was nowhere near as subtle as they thought it was.

I also deleted the inappropriate emails we sent each other. Then I went through the Deleted Items folder and cleared them all out of there.

The FBI would find all these emails easily enough if they went digging, but I wanted to at least make them work for it. At least this way, the next PA he hired wouldn’t be able to find them.  

Eventually I got the end of my emails and had cleared out all the deleted ones. My email address was a rather impersonal “[email protected]” and the same address had been used by Kara. I could read all her emails.  

Just seeing her final words on the screen of my phone sent shivers down my spine. I had no intention of reading them--that felt like unforgivable invasion of privacy--but something caught my eye as I was closing the email app.

The last email she received was on the day of her death and it was in the deleted folder even though it was flagged as important.  

I’d received loads of “important” emails while I’d been working at the company, but most of them looked anything but urgent. They might have been to the right people, but to me they looked the same as all the others. Financial info, getting signatures on contracts, that kind of thing.  

This email looked different than the others. There was nothing in the subject line for one thing, which made it look like the email had been sent in a hurry. Even without opening the email, I could read the first few words.

It’s not what it looks like. Meet me. I can explain. I’ll be at

I opened the email and read the rest of the message.

57th and Aberdeen Street. Just don’t tell Denton until I’ve had a chance to tell you my side of the story.

I’d never been to that part of town, but I knew it well enough from the FBI’s file. Kara had been killed around there. She’d gone to meet the sender of the email, and had died shortly after.  

Another shiver spread down my spine, quickly followed by another. I couldn’t stop shaking.

The email address of the sender was one of the company’s generic email addresses, so I couldn’t tell who had sent it. I scrolled to the bottom of the email chain to read Kara’s original email.

I know why you won’t sign the contracts. What’s going on? Does Denton know?

If the other person could sign contracts for the company, they had to be fairly important, but I didn’t know any of the directors or officers other than Denton.  

There was something else bothering me though. Something that had been bothering me for a while.

I needed to call Lois. This was not going to be fun.

“Chloe, what the hell has been going on?” Lois said as she answered the phone.  

She was as bad as my mother. Does no one say hello anymore?

“Lois, I’m so sorry. Listen, I don’t have time to explain right now, but I need you to tell me something.”

“You had better find the time, Chloe, because we need to have a serious talk.”

“We will. But this is important. Life or death.”

Lois sighed. “Okay, what is it?”

“You said we had a contact at the company, right? Someone who helped me get the job in the first place. Who was it?”  

Lois only had a first name to go on, but it was enough. She was only confirming what deep down I think I already knew.  

I’d found Kara’s killer, but I might be too late.  

I called Denton, but no answer. He needed to know otherwise he might walk right into a trap.  

If I didn’t find Denton in the next few hours, I might never see him alive again.

E
ven the toughest
men cracked eventually if you applied the right kind of pressure. I wasn’t proud of the methods I used, but they got results.

Three hours of hunting down leads and interrogating men led me to the only possible conclusion.

It was a conclusion I should have reached a long time ago, but it was so terrifying, so horrid, that I didn’t want to admit it to myself.

I knew who killed Kara.  

There was one man who’d wanted her dead all along. He’d seen her as a distraction, an annoyance, someone I shouldn’t be bothering with.  

Tonight I’d broken bones and seen my fair share of blood, but none of that made me feel as sick as the realization that I knew who the killer was.

Dad.  

It was so fucking obvious that I couldn’t see what had been right under my nose the entire time. No wonder he hadn’t wanted me tracking down her killer.

My own father.  

Kara had actually liked him. She didn’t like who he was, or what he did, but she respected what he had achieved. And I thought he’d liked her. Maybe he had once. Dad was the sort of person who would buy you a beer one minute, and stick a knife in your back the next.

He’d stuck a knife in Kara. More than once. He’d killed her. He’d done it personally, according to the men I’d interrogated.  

Tonight he would find out what it felt like to get a knife in your back.

James told me that Dad was spending the evening at a strip club with his mistress. She worked there apparently, and Dad often spent the evenings hanging out in the back room. That sounded like exactly his idea of a good time.

I drove over to the club, and arrived after it had closed. Dad’s car was still in the parking lot. The front door was unlocked and there were a few cleaners milling around picking up bottles and glasses.

“Leave,” I commanded. I didn’t raise my voice, but everyone quickly took the hint anyway and fled out of the door. If Dad was here often, they were probably used to scenes of violence, and the minimum wage they were paid wasn’t worth the risk of catching a stray bullet.

“Get out here, Dad,” I yelled at the top of my voice. “You and I need to have a little talk.”

I pulled out my gun and felt the weight of it in my hand. The weight put a lot of people off, but I preferred a heavy gun; it reminded you how powerful it could be. When a gun weighed the same as a child’s water pistol, it was too easy to treat it like one.

I heard movement from backstage, and then a door opened.

“What the hell is going--”

I raised my gun and fired.  

“
W
akey
, wakey, Dad,” I said, as I poured a glass of cold water over him.

He slowly came to, and then immediately wished he hadn’t.

“You shot me,” he cried out. “You fucking shot me.”

“The bullet went right through your calf. You’ll be fine. I took the liberty of tying you up when you fell unconscious.”

Dad tried to move his arms, but they were handcuffed behind his back to one of the dance poles.  

It wasn’t like he’d be going anywhere with that leg wound, but I didn’t want to risk him pulling out a knife or a gun. I wouldn’t put it past him to have one hidden on him somewhere.

“What the fuck is going on, Denton? Jesus Christ, get me to a fucking hospital.”

“No need for a hospital, Dad. A morgue is the only place you’ll be going, but first, I want to ask you a few questions.”

“You trying to take over? Is that it? I was going to give you everything anyway. You don’t need to do this.”

“Oh, I
do
need to do this. I’ve needed to do this ever since you killed Kara.”

“What the--”

The front door swung open and James came rushing in, panting and out of breath. “Denton,” he yelled, then paused to breath. “What are you doing?”

“Dad killed Kara. It was him all along.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” James said, while Dad just looked up at us both, as if he couldn’t believe what was unfolding in front of his eyes. “Your father would never do such a thing.”

“I followed up those leads you gave me. They all said the same thing. It was him, James. He thought she was a distraction. He wanted her out of the picture.”

“That… that can’t be right,” James said, staring at my dad.  

“It explains why our own men kidnapped and killed Kara. They did it under Dad’s orders.”  

Dad kept moaning in pain and uttering blanket denials that I didn’t want to hear right now. I grabbed an abandoned bra off the floor and shoved it in his mouth to shut him up.

James just stared at Dad, as if he were trying to see the the truth in his eyes.  

“I’m sure there must be some explanation for all this,” James said wearily. He believed it too, and that meant I wasn’t being paranoid. James always kept a cool head; if he thought Dad was guilty then it was almost certainly true.

“The only explanation is that Dad cares more about keeping his organization in line than he does about human lives. He’d kill me if it made him a few bucks.”

Dad shook his head vigorously, but I ignored him. It was too late for denials.

“What are you going to do?” James asked. “You can’t keep him tied up here forever.”

“I don’t intend to.” I looked down at Dad, and placed my foot on his bloody leg, right above the wound. “Dad’s going to answer some questions.”

“Then what?”

“Then I’m going to kill him.”

“No,” a female voice said from the doorway.  

I looked over and saw Chloe standing there looking just as beautiful as the day I met her. She might have been lying to me this entire time, but my feelings for her had been very real. Too real.  

“Get out of here, Chloe. You can arrest me later. Right now, I have business to take care of.”

“You’re not going to kill him,” Chloe said, as she walked towards us. She had a confidence about her I hadn’t seen before. Had the timid thing just been part of the act?  

“I am, Chloe. And nothing you can say will stop me. I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

“You don’t have to, but you’re going to want to. You’re not going to kill your dad, because he’s not the one who killed Kara.”  

“Then who did?”

Chloe pointed a figure at James. “He did.”