DIrty Dark Deceit: A Criminal Bad Boy Standalone Read online

  Blend in, Darcy. Blend blend blend.

  At the top of the steps, a waiter approaches me, passing me a glass of champagne. Score. I take it gratefully, moving past a row of roses clinging to the wall.

  Men in smart suits and women in beautiful dresses surround me, chattering softly. There's at least a dozen women around my age, all of which are at least three times as attractive as me. My stomach sinks. Crap. How am I going to pull this off?

  I sip my drink, trying to blend in, but most of the guests seem to know each other, putting me at an odd end.

  I turn to face the view back over the pond, spotting a rose garden off to the right, surrounded by well-groomed bushes.

  An older woman in a vibrant floral dress appears next to me, eating from a plate of hors d'oeuvres.

  “Nice day,” I remark, trying to engage her.

  “Beautiful, just beautiful.” She turns to me, her hazel eyes flipping up and down my revealing dress. “And what's your name?”

  “Darcy, and yours?”

  “It's a pleasure, Darcy. I'm Louise.”

  “Hey sweetheart,” Logan's voice bursts into my ear, making me jump.

  Louise eyes me curiously and I fan my hand through the air, pretending there was a wasp.

  “If you can hear me, comment on that woman's hideous dress.”

  I stiffen, my neck heating up as I look at Louise's dress. Damn you, Logan. “Your dress is very – floral.” I beam at her and she seems to take it as a compliment.

  “Oh, thank you darling.”

  I float away, speaking in a low voice to Logan. “Why are you such an arsehole? She probably spent a fortune on that dress.”

  “Well she shouldn't have, it looks like a hippy threw up on her.”

  I snort into my drink and find Louise giving me a curious look. As I run a hand through my hair, I pull myself together. Not exactly acting cool, but drawing less attention than I was a second ago.

  “Which one is Ralph Heathcote?” I mutter into my glass, gazing around the party.

  “Wave your tits about so I can have a look.”

  I roll my eyes but do as he says, panning the camera across the crowd by angling my body towards them.

  “Can't see him.” There's a tense note to his voice.

  “Everything okay?” I mutter, taking a little puff pastry from a tray; it's filled with pesto and mozzarella. I eat it in one bite, the taste impossibly good for such a small piece of food.

  “Uhuh,” he says vaguely. “Go mix with the crowd.”

  I move toward a couple of men in suits. They take me in with searching eyes like they're trying to see beneath my dress. Eyes up here, boys.

  “I'm Derrick,” the more attractive one says, his dark hair carefully quaffed and his suit definitely designer. The other guy is slimmer with a thick beard, his eyes still unashamedly exploring my boobs.

  “Harry,” he says, taking my hand, pressing his lips to the back of it so his beard tickles my skin.

  “I'm Darcy.” I smile briefly.

  “You into cars, Darcy?” Derrick asks me, his green eyes sliding down to my breasts again. I fight the urge to smack him but, instead, manage a bright smile. Had to pick these two, didn't I?

  “Of course, why else would I be here?”

  “To fuck Ralph Heathcote whilst I steal his shit,” Logan says in my ear, spitting a laugh.

  “I'm not fucking anything,” I snap, inhaling quickly as I realise what I've done.

  Derrick and Harry gaze at me in surprise, eyes wide.

  “I mean...” I tuck my hair behind my ear, my insides knotting at the sound of Logan laughing hard in my ear. “I'm not into fucking anything. I like a certain type of car.”

  “Oh right... You're real passionate about them then?” Harry lifts a hairy brow.

  “Yes.” I sip my champagne, my heartbeat steadying.

  “Well a little birdy told me, Mr Heathcote's got a surprise for us all today. He hasn't thrown this party for no reason,” Derrick says, stepping closer to me, a cocky grin playing around his mouth.

  “Oh?” I lift a brow.

  He slips a hand onto my waist, leaning in close to my ear. “And if you like cars as much as he does, I think you're going to like his surprise.”

  “Get his hands off you,” Logan growls in my ear and I slink out of his hold. An irrational bubble grows in my chest. Is Logan being protective of me?

  “What is it?” I ask Derrick.

  He taps his nose. “You'll see.”

  I finish my champagne and a waiter promptly takes my glass, handing me another one. Nice. I'd kill for that service in my home.

  “Have you got a favourite car then, Darcy?” Derrick moves closer again and I catch the scent of his spicy cologne.

  Harry wanders away, heading after the waiter with the hors d'oeuvres.

  “Erm...” I struggle to think of any car at all apart from my pitiful KA.

  Don't mention the KA. Don't mention the KA!

  “Tell him you like an Aston Martin One Seventy Seven,” Logan supplies smoothly.

  I fix my hair, plastering on a casual expression. “I'm partial to an Aston Martin One Seventy Seven.”

  Derrick raises his eyebrows, clearly impressed. “You've driven one of those?”

  I place a hand on his chest, leaning in. “Oh sweetie, I own one of them.”

  Logan makes a very sexual noise in my ear that makes my tummy tighten.

  “I'd like to see that,” Derrick says in a low tone.

  “Maybe you will, if you play your cards right.” I walk away, swaying my hips and grinning from ear to ear. “How was that?” I mumble into my glass.

  “Hot. Can I give you a list of cars to read out to me later while I jerk off? I'm getting a semi just thinking about it.”

  I nearly choke on my drink but before I can respond, a man's voice carries across the crowd.

  “Please follow me into the house where your host awaits.”

  I spy the man who's spoken, wearing a penguin suit, his white hair split down the middle by a bald patch.

  The crowd bustle together, heading after him into the house. I step into the shadow of the manor, my skin instantly cooling.

  The entrance hall is white and fitted with terracotta tiles; potted plants stand in each corner, their leaves waxy and large. It reminds me of a holiday Daniel and I took to Spain. We rented a villa for a week far away from anyone. But the romantic little getaway I'd planned (and not to mention paid for) ended up as a disaster. Let's just say his guitar was the only thing that got strummed by his fingers that week.

  We're guided into a bright show room with gleaming floors. Dotted around on raised platforms are incredible cars, shining and glinting under spotlights.

  At the centre of the room is a man, standing in front of a car covered in a silky grey sheet. His arms are folded across his broad chest, he has a tangle of chestnut hair gathered into a neat knot on top of his head and he's smiling at us with an air of confidence that only money can buy.

  “I didn't expect him to look like that,” I mutter to Logan, my heart beating a little harder.

  “What did you expect?”

  “I dunno, old guy, grey hair, a gut that's seen too many beers. This guy is seriously...”

  “What?” Logan demands.

  “Hot,” I breathe, taking up position at the front of the crowd as everyone gathers in a semi-circle around him.

  This just became ten times more of a challenge. How am I going to get this guy to take notice of me amongst all these other women?

  Ralph tucks his hands into his trouser pockets, shrugging his shoulders, giving us all a boyish smile. It's downright charming. Not at all like one of Logan's grins that say 'I'm going to eat you for breakfast, bones and all'.

  “Welcome, thank you for coming. Please don't be shy, move closer, closer.” He moves around the crowd, tugging people's wrists so they stumble forward, making them titter with laughter.

  He reaches me and takes my hand, his eye
s skimming briefly down me. A blush heats my cheeks as I gaze up at him, remembering to smile.

  His eyes are deepest brown with streaks of caramel. Oh my god...

  “Don't be shy,” he repeats, pulling me forward.

  “I wouldn't dare,” I say, keeping up my flirty act. I hardly even have to act now. But remind myself that technically I'm here to rob this guy. And, under his playful exterior, he's probably about as arrogant and smug as Logan.

  “Nice,” Logan growls in my ear, taking me by surprise.

  Ralph moves back to the concealed car, smiling around at us all. “Thank you all for coming. As a sponsor of the McLaren company, I wanted to make sure those who work so hard every day to make such beautiful vehicles had a chance to come here today. And you are all the lucky, lucky people who won an exclusive invite to this event. So why are you all here?”

  He circles the car and I grow excited from the rise and fall of his gripping voice.

  “You are all here to bear witness to McLaren's best kept secret. Only your boss's boss's boss knew about this one. And I've been granted the absolute honour of revealing to you today, the secret we have been keeping for months.”

  “Probably because he poured a shit-tonne of money into their pockets,” Logan says dryly and I feel a little irritated at him for laying in to Ralph.

  “So, without further ado, I unveil to you, the McLaren P1 2018.” He whips the sheet off of the car and a collective gasp sounds around the space – mine included.

  I know nothing about cars but this one is a thing of beauty.

  It's a perfect chrome, so shiny it reflects the people standing closest to it, including me and my crimson dress. It's low to the ground, the shape of it sleek and streamlined, the bumpers and wheels deepest ebony.

  Ralph beams at his possession, the light bouncing off it and reflecting in his dark eyes.

  “Fuck,” Logan breathes in my ear. “Get closer. Ask to see the engine.”

  “Really?” I hiss.

  There's no way Ralph's going to take me seriously.

  “Yes. Do it now.”

  Hesitantly, I approach Ralph, running a finger across the bonnet of his orgasmic car. “Hey, could you show me the engine?”

  He raises his brows, taking me in with puckered lips. Easy cowboy.

  Shrugging, he moves around the vehicle and I'm pretty sure I've passed the first test. I hover by the bonnet but Ralph heads to the back of the car, stumping me.

  “Engine's in the back, sweetheart,” Logan growls in my ear.

  A blush sears by cheeks as I hurry after Ralph, trying to pretend I know what I'm doing. Ralph pops open the hood and I can't help but eye the muscles bulging out of his white shirt.

  He reveals the engine, holding the hood up with one hand.

  “Now, let's make this guy stiff for you,” Logan says and I fight a grimace.

  I take the opportunity to duck under Ralph's arm so he gets a good feel of my butt rubbing against his thigh. Not my usual style, but hey, I'm doing my best here.

  “Point the camera at the engine,” Logan instructs, panting as if he's up to something strenuous.

  I lean forward, making sure the broach is angled down at it.

  “Hm...” Logan assesses it.

  “Wanna know what you're looking at, baby?” Ralph purrs at me.

  Logan releases a low whistle in my ear. “You're looking at a 4.2 litre twin turbocharged V8 engine. Looks like it's paired with a seven speed dual clutch-transmission. Oh and that big silver thing with the turbines, that's an electric motor so I'd guess this car's got a combined output of 908...maybe pushing 915 horsepower.”

  I take a breath, trying to remember what Logan just said. “I know what I'm looking at,” I say firmly to Ralph. Oops. Cocky much? I better follow through.

  “Oh really?” Ralph teases, evidently not believing me. Can't blame the guy. I don't believe me either.

  I straighten my spine, gazing at the engine and folding my arms. “Looks like a 4.2 litre twin turbocharged V8 engine to me.”

  Ralph's mouth falls open a fraction then he quickly steps closer, his thigh rubbing mine. “Bang on. What else can you tell?”

  I sense a crowd forming around us and spot Derrick across from me. Oh good, lots more people to embarrass myself in front of if I cock this up.

  Straining to remember what Logan said, I give it a shot, “I'd guess it's paired with a seven speed dual clutch transmission? And with that electric motor-” I point at the thing Logan described. “I reckon it has a combined output of...”

  Fuck. What did he say?

  “908 to 915 tops,” Logan helps me.

  “908 horsepower. Maybe 915...but I'd be surprised if it had that much juice.”

  “Nice touch,” Logan laughs in my ear. “He definitely has a hard-on now. I certainly do.”

  I clear my throat, trying not to react to that comment. Logan's stiffy is not something I need in my head right now. But my mind has other ideas, gifting me with the memory of his morning glory. Oh holy hell.

  “You know your cars,” Ralph remarks and I shrug lightly, coming back to my senses.

  “I've learnt a thing or two in my time.”

  “Now walk away and sway those curvy hips of yours,” Logan instructs.

  I do as he says, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves as I head across the room.

  “Go talk to another guy,” Logan says.

  “Why?” I hiss, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter.

  “Because it will drive Heathcote crazy.”

  “Okay...” I spot Derrick moving amongst the crowd and make a beeline for him.

  “Nice car, huh?” I say as I approach, feeling a bit foolish.

  “You sure know a thing or two about it.” Derrick eyes me with admiration.

  Ohhh. It feels so good to be looked at like that. I think I just earned the respect of several powerful men. And all I had to do was blurt a few words about horsepower and engines. Pity the words have already evacuated my mind, otherwise I could have stashed them for a future hotty.

  “Place a hand on his arm, compliment him. And angle your tits back toward Ralph so I can see if he's looking.”

  I do as Logan says, running my hand up Derrick's arm. “So...do you work for McLaren?” I ask curiously, turning subtly so I'm facing Ralph across the room.

  “Yeah, I'm one of the boss's boss's bosses Ralph mentioned.” He winks at me and I cringe internally. Who actually winks in real life? When I do it, I look like I'm having a mild seizure.

  “Oh, so you knew about the car?”

  “Yeah, I've been working on it for months.”

  “Ralph's eyeing you up, touch this prick some more,” Logan orders.

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes and slide my hand onto Derrick's wrist, running my thumb in a slow circle.

  “That's fascinating.” I bat my eyelashes.

  “You're fascinating,” he says in a low tone, his eyes sliding down my body again. “Maybe we could get out of here? Get a drink?”

  “Heathcote's coming,” Logan warns. “Don't fuck this up.”

  Irritation flashes through me. I wish I could retort but I don't have a chance to, feeling a hand slide onto my back.

  Ralph steps very close to me. “Can I steal Miss...?”

  “Darcy,” I fill in for him. “Just Darcy.” Better not give him my surname. In fact, have I been completely stupid giving him my real first name? Damn, I'm terrible at this crime business.

  “Darcy away for a moment?” He fixes Derrick with a stare who backs down, raising his hands to show he has no hold on me.

  Woah this Ralph guy has power. And I'm pretty sure he just pissed on me like a dog on a tree. Probably shouldn't feel good about that, but I kinda do.

  “Ask to see the house,” Logan commands.

  “Your house is beautiful...” I say suggestively, moving into him so my hip rubs his.

  Ralph gives me a hungry look- the type that would make a chicken run for its life. Mayb
e he has got the Logan smile down after all.

  “Would you like a tour, Darcy?”

  The way he says my name makes my knees a little weak. There's a lot of insinuation in that tone.

  “Love one,” I breathe.

  LOGAN

  “How do you do it? Steal the cars without anyone noticing?” Adam's eyes are round, aglow with admiration.

  I push my chest out. “Easy once you know how.”

  He looks at me like I'm the sun, the earth, the whole fucking solar system.

  But he's the one with the grades, the future. Not that I'd let him know that.

  There's a service gate at the back of the house that's perfect for this job. Amongst a cluster of trees, I scale the fence, dropping into the blind spot of the CCTV I scouted out.

  Hugging the wall of the manor, I head toward the servant's door, spotting a guy manning it in a smart jacket, cap and sunglasses.

  I whistle softly, remaining in the blind spot of the cameras. After a beat, I do it again, louder this time.

  “What are you doing?” Darcy whispers in my ear.

  “Just keep your mind focused on Heathcote, yeah? I'm working here.”

  The security guard appears, searching for the noise. Dumb shit.

  As he passes me, I press myself back into the shadow of the wall then slowly creep up behind him, taking a syringe out of my pocket. Not my usual style, but this job is different. I've gotta pull out the big guns.

  At once, I wrap my arm around the guy's neck and press my free hand to his mouth.

  Got ya, prick.

  Wrestling him backwards, I plunge the needle into his neck, jamming my thumb down on the plunger. It only takes a few seconds for him to go slack in my arms, but he fights me all the way.

  “Sorry, mate,” I mutter. “You'll wake up in a couple of hours.” I drag him toward a cluster of bushes, tugging off his coat, hat, glasses and security pass, pulling them on myself.

  Turning, I stride to the door he was manning, heading inside.

  Easy peasy.

  Entering a large kitchen, I eye the cooks busying about the place. I keep my pace slow and purposeful, passing into the next room without drawing attention.

  “I'd love to see the bedroom,” Darcy's voice sounds in my ear.