DIrty Dark Deceit: A Criminal Bad Boy Standalone Read online

  “I'm a car dealer.”

  My eyes narrow to slits. Maybe that car I fucked up today wasn't his. Maybe it belonged to a dealership. But a quick sweep of his expensive clothes tells me otherwise. I have no idea what this guy really does, but it's not dealing cars.

  “You didn't tell me about this,” Mum accuses.

  And there it is. The lie that's gonna cost me an earful later.

  “Sorry- I-” I search for an explanation but it doesn't come, my tongue like lead in my mouth.

  “I only just offered it to her. Today in fact,” Logan fills in for me, cool as a cocky cucumber.

  Hm. He might have saved me, but that doesn't mean I'm going to go out and buy him a friendship bracelet anytime soon.

  Mum looks a little baffled, then smiles at me. “Well I'm glad you're doing something productive with yourself at last. You need a new job to keep your interest.”

  I nod vaguely, forcing a smile.

  Taking Logan's arm, I lead him firmly out of the kitchen.

  “Nice meeting you,” he calls to my mum, all charm.

  I see right through it.

  I glance at the bruise on his chin again, frowning. “You're not very popular today, are you?”

  “Hmph.” He rubs a hand to his jaw absent-mindedly. “Don't think I'll be any more popular tomorrow, either.”

  “Serves you right,” I mutter and he shakes my arm off, placing his hand on my spine instead and taking the lead. His palm is hot, boiling in fact. Or is that my body? Either way, I'm burning up.

  He guides me into the hall. “I'm not quite sure why you despise me so much, Darcy. You're the one who fucked me over today. I've made up for what I did to you, so now you're gonna start making it up to me.”

  “And I assume I'm not going to actually be helping you deal cars?” I fold my arms, twisting out of his hold. My skin continues to blaze where his hand was, like it's now branded on my skin.

  I set my jaw.

  Pretty face. Ugly soul. That's what this guy has.

  “Nope. But I'll be requiring your help with something. Come to mine tomorrow, I'll give you your instructions.”

  “My instructions?” I balk. “What are you going to have me do? A wax and paint job on your Porsche?”

  His jaw hardens and I quiver. Damn. I'm a slave to that face. Why does it have to be so bloody chiselled?

  “Nope,” he says simply, leaning in closer and taking my waist. He moves his mouth to my ear, sending a dangerous tremor through me. “Might be some waxing involved though.”

  I'm left, eyes-wide, heart thumping as he opens the door and disappears down the drive. I notice he gets in a blue Mercedes and frown.

  How many cars does this guy own? And was he really suggesting something sexual with that comment?

  I'm not waxing anything of his. I don't care how much I owe him. If he thinks I'm going to pay him back in sexual favours, he's got another think coming.

  LOGAN

  “Mum says you have to take care of me.”

  “I'm going to the park, Adam. Take care of yourself.”

  He stamps his little foot. Twelve, bordering on thirteen. I hope he doesn't turn into the headache teenager I am. Mum doesn't need two of us.

  “Take me with you.” He folds his arms, grabbing hold of my bike to stop me from leaving.

  “It's a free house, Ads. Invite some girls over or some shit. Do what I'd do.”

  Fuck, shouldn't have said that. Don't do what I'd do, Ads. Don't you fucking dare.

  I feel very pleased with myself as I head home from Darcy's house. The way she looked at me with her big charcoal eyes, pissy as hell. It was priceless. Totally worth the waxing comment.

  There was something beneath all her bravado, though. I felt her gaze on me when I wasn't looking. She wanted me, probably just on a primal level. The girl despises me as a person, that's pretty obvious. But I think she'd like to fuck me all the same. I'd like to be sure though. Just so I can screw with her some more. She's so easily wound up and I adore playing this game.

  ¸.•*´♥`*•.¸

  The buzzer sounds at the gate. Right on time. Eager much, Darcy dearest?

  I decided not to get dressed this morning, leaving my boxers firmly in place. Let's see how she reacts to my barely concealed cock.

  I press down on the button by the door, eyeing her on the CCTV. What is she going to think of this place? It's a palace compared to her town house.

  “Morning, sweetheart.”

  Her eyes are concealed behind a large pair of black sunglasses as she leans out of her red Ford KA. Shit heap. It's at least twelve years old.

  “Morning,” she says stiffly.

  “Drive up to the house, there's a ramp to the left that will take you to the sky garage.”

  “Sky garage..?” she mutters, pulling through the iron gate as it slides open.

  I move through the open plan lounge, taking the spiral staircase up two flights to the roof. Stepping into the pool room, I gaze up at the glass windows above that give a view into the sky garage. I watch in amusement as Darcy parks her KA amongst my priceless collection of cars, all lined up along the hill that circles down to the pool.

  I head to the door at the bottom of the garage and unlock it with my fingerprint.

  Darcy approaches me, her red handbag hanging in front of her, clutched in both hands, her eyes wide as she gazes around the room. Her clothes look like something out of Charlie and The Chocolate Factory. And I mean Charlie, not Wonka.

  “This place is pretty...nice.”

  I grin at her, holding the door wide to let her in.

  Her eyes scan up and down me and her perplexed expression grows cool. “Why aren't you dressed?”

  I shrug. “I'll get dressed before we leave.”

  “Where are we going?”

  I don't bother to reply, heading toward the staircase and glancing back to make sure she's following. She takes in the azure pool, the sun beating down on its perfectly still surface through the glass roof.

  I fight a grin, heading downstairs and hearing her following behind.

  I step off at the second landing where a balcony extends above the bottom floor. I walk to the leather seating area at one end, surrounding the Jamaican-themed bar in a ring.

  “Sit,” I instruct and she drops into one of the cherry-upholstered armchairs.

  “Drink?” I offer, moving to the bar.

  “It's nine in the morning.”

  “Fair point. How about a coffee?”

  She nods, placing her bag down by her feet, still seeming more distracted by the house than me.

  I frown as I make the coffee behind the bar, using the espresso machine.

  “How do you like it?”

  “Milk, no sugar.”

  “Same as me,” I mutter, returning to her with our drinks. I'd place a 50K bet on that being the only thing we have in common.

  I stand in front of her, holding the coffee purposefully close to my crotch. She takes a good look and I'm finally satisfied. Thank fuck. She's not immune. But that was much harder work than it would be for most women.

  She takes the mug and I laze in the sofa opposite her, sipping my coffee.

  Darcy clears her throat, keeping her eyes fixed on mine. I move a strategic hand to my crotch, rearranging my cock in my boxers.

  She glances down then tuts in frustration. “Could you please put some clothes on?”

  “Why? Is this bothering you?” I squeeze my semi and she grimaces at me.

  I grin satisfactorily and her scowl increases.

  Sighing, she sips her coffee, recomposed already. “So? Are you going to explain why I'm here?”

  “You're going to help me with a little job.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “What kind of job?”

  I survey her for a minute. This is the most dangerous part of my plan. If I tell her what I do, she could call the police on me. But I suspect she'll keep quiet if I offer her something worthwhile.

  “We
ll...you owe me an even eighty grand. Agreed?”

  She makes a noise of derision. “That dent did not cost you eight grand. I'm not an idiot.”

  “I never said you were, but you didn't let me finish. That car was a job. I should have been paid eighty grand for delivering it safe and sound to someone important.”

  She frowns, resting back in her seat. “Why would someone pay you that much just to deliver a car?”

  I scratch the back of my head with a come-on-sweetheart-keep-up expression and her eyes widen in realisation.

  “You stole it?” Her misty eyes sparkle at me, full of accusation. It's a definite turn on.

  “Yeah, to put it bluntly. I'm a car thief. That's what I do. That's how I make a living.”

  Her upper lip curls back. “You're a criminal.”

  I stand, moving closer to her. “Call me whatever you like, sweetheart. You owe me that money. And you're gonna get me it back, plus interest.”

  She stands, her head not even reaching my chin but she glares up at me. “I'm not doing anything for you. I'll call the police.”

  I snatch her wrist as she goes to move. “That's a very bad idea, Darcy. And besides, I'm cutting you in on this deal. I'll give you fifty grand for this job.”

  Her mouth opens and closes. “Fifty...”

  “I'm betting you need the money, right?” I step into her personal space, staring her down. “You wanna move out of your mum's house one day, I imagine. Get your own place, start living life your way...”

  She glares at me, snatching her hand away. “Or end up in jail and lose everything I already have.”

  I fold my arms, tucking my hands into my armpits. How do I get Miss Morals to get onboard here? If bribes don't cut it, I'm all for intimidation.

  “You owe me the money.” I lower my tone, clenching my jaw.

  It works like a charm, her eyes flickering with trepidation. “I can't steal cars, what good am I to you?” Oh, sweetheart, you're good for a lot of things to me. Blowjobs, handies, rubbing my balls a little.

  “That's the thing, you won't even have to be involved in that part of it. All I need you to do is distract someone for me.”

  She raises her soft blonde brows. “Who?”

  “The target, the guy we're gonna rob.” It's just a quick in and out job. One I've been planning my whole god damn life it feels like. And I need a Barbie to distract Ken whilst Action Man (AKA me) sneaks in his back door and takes him for all he's worth. Simple.

  She bites down on her lip, glancing away. “I can't...”

  Boldly, I take her chin, turning her back to face me. “You can Darcy. You just need a new wardrobe, and maybe a personality transplant.”

  She smacks my hand away, glowering at me. “Screw you.”

  “I'm serious. This guy needs to fancy the arse off you. You've got the materials you just need...remodelling.” I'm dying to get that Matrix coat off of her. It wasn't cool then. It's isn't cool now.

  “Urgh!” she huffs at me, pushing my chest.

  A spike of heat rushes through me, taking a direct route to my cock. Fuck, she's feisty. And it's turning me on like mad.

  “You're a pig.”

  I laugh, catching her wrist again as she moves to leave. “Come on, all you need to do is distract him for an hour tops. I'll do the rest.”

  Be my Barbie, baby.

  “And how exactly am I supposed to do that?” She wrenches her hand free again, planting it on her hip.

  Oh good. She's coming round to the idea.

  “You know...keep him talking, have some drinks, suck his cock, that kind of thing.”

  Her nose wrinkles. “I am not sucking anything!”

  “A handie then, whatever you prefer.” A grin tugs at my lips at her furious expression.

  “I am not touching anyone's anything!” she shouts, her face turning red. It's fucking cute as shit. Maybe she's more of a Sindy than a Barbie. But then fucking Sindy is pretty effed up. And I definitely wanna lay this girl. So, Barbie it is.

  “Alright, alright,” I laugh. “You don't have to touch his cock. But you do have to hold his attention for an hour, so you're gonna have to up your game.”

  Her shoulders drop and she glances around the place as if looking for a way out of this.

  No way out, Darcy. You're the sheep, I'm the sheepdog. Now get in your pen.

  Finally, she sighs, looking up at me. “What do you want me to do?”

  ¸.•*´♥`*•.¸

  We head to town in my Alfa Romero convertible, the wind rushing over us as I drive to Westfield shopping centre.

  “Did you steal this car?” Darcy asks me, running her fingers over the dashboard.

  “No. I don't keep the cars I steal, that would be moronic.”

  “I wouldn't put it past you then,” she taunts and I shoot her a stern look. There's a lot of things I'd like to do with that fast tongue of hers.

  When we arrive, I pull into the valet parking, jumping out and chucking my keys to a kid. “Give her a wash, yeah? She needs some loving.” I tuck a fifty into his top pocket and he nods enthusiastically.

  Darcy takes to my side and we head into the centre, the place quiet. I guess it is midweek and mid-morning.

  We head to John Lewis and I guide her straight to the dress section. She starts fingering dresses and I roll my eyes.

  “I'll pick the dress. Otherwise you're going to end up looking like Mary Poppins.”

  Her mouth falls open. “I do not dress like Mary Poppins.”

  “Says your raincoat,” I mutter and she glances down at the long black coat with a pout.

  “There's nothing wrong with this coat.”

  “Yeah, except everything.”

  She drags it off, folding it over her arm, turning her back on me.

  “Oh good, now I can look at your granny jumper.”

  She rounds on me, her grey eyes flaring. A thrill rolls through me at how easy it is to anger her.

  “Just because I don't dress like some stripper on a pole, doesn't mean my clothes are unattractive.”

  I consider her words. “To be fair, that green dress you had on yesterday was pretty hot.”

  She looks confused by my words, turning away again and walking to the other side of the dress section.

  A hot attendant approaches me, her ash-blonde hair wrapped up in a neat bun, her maroon dress cutting off above her shapely calves.

  Now that's what I'm talking about.

  “Hello sir, can I help you?”

  “Yeah, I'm looking for a dress for my sister.” I nod to Darcy and she glances up at me mouthing, 'sister?'.

  I cup my hand around my mouth, leaning close to the attendant. “She needs a serious wardrobe upgrade. And seeing as you've got the perfect look, I think you might be the right person to help.”

  She giggles, laying a hand on my arm. “Of course. I'll pick out a few for her to try on. What's her size?”

  I glance at Darcy, scanning her up and down.

  She approaches, looking a little flustered. “I'm an 8.”

  “Really? You look more like a 12 in those baggy jeans.”

  She pouts at me. “Shut up, bro.”

  “An 8 it is,” the hot attendant says, heading off to pick out some dresses. I hound after her, eyeing her tight ass. I wonder what Darcy's ass is like. I want her in something fitted. Let's see those 'size 8' curves.

  DARCY

  The changing room is a single curtain at the back of the shop and it does nothing to shut out the outrageous flirting Logan is doing with the shop attendant.

  I'm having the worst day. I have no idea why I agreed to this. Actually, scrap that. I know exactly why.

  The money.

  Fifty grand could change everything for me. I could put a deposit down on a flat, take Mum and Kelly on holiday. None of us have been away in years. And all I have to do is cooperate with this pompous idiot for a little while and spend an hour with some guy. I can do that. I just won't think about the 'breaking the law' pa
rt of it.

  And even if the police did show up, I could tell them I was blackmailed into this. I won't be part of the robbery anyway. Everything will be fine.

  I pull on one of the dresses selected by Logan, not having liked the first three the attendant picked out.

  A loud giggle sounds from beyond the curtain and I roll my eyes. He is exactly the sort of guy I have no time for. A womanising idiot. And now I know he's a criminal too. So there really is nothing to like about him at all. Although, at least Logan's honest about being an arsehole. It took me two years to figure out Daniel was one. So Logan's saving me a whole lot of time. Really, I should be more grateful.

  “Really?” the girl squeaks.

  It sounds like he's feeling her up right out there amongst the racks of dresses.

  Her voice lowers. “And are you a grower or a show-er?”

  I grimace. For Christ's sake. Do I really have to stand here listening to this?

  “I'm both, sweetheart.”

  She giggles wildly. “I'd like to see that.”

  That's it!

  I rip the curtain back, glaring at the two of them. Her hand is on his broad chest, his mouth by her ear.

  I clear my throat and Logan snaps around, releasing the girl's waist.

  Her baby-blue eyes go wide at me. “Oh wow, your sister is super pretty,” she mutters to Logan.

  “Yeah...” he says vaguely, running a hand down the back of his neck.

  Oh - the dress! I totally forgot to look at myself in it.

  I turn around, facing the mirror, raising my eyebrows at the sight of myself. It's crimson with a plunging neckline, nearly to my belly button. My breasts are cupped in the exact right place, looking fuller than they already are. For once, my waist looks genuinely curvy, but I'm sure it's the dress doing all the work.

  “That's the one,” Logan says, his voice strained. “Give us a minute please, Chardonnay.”

  “Of course.” She heads away and I turn to Logan.

  “Chardonnay?” I wrinkle my nose.

  “It's French.”

  “It's vile.”

  He tongues his cheek, eyeing me up.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” I snap, placing my hands on my hips. “You think you can go around looking at girls any way you like and they'll just fall at your feet.”