The F King:A Bad Boy Romance(4)

That explained a lot. It had been a long time since a woman had played  so coy with me. "Not that kind of girl, I need to take things slow."  Yeah right. That kind of girl didn't exist in my world.

I'd been sloppy. Concentrating so hard on taking down the Acardi family,  I'd become too used to the lifestyle that my position afforded me. I'd  had too much fun and at some point I'd come up on the police radar, or  was it the DEA?

Either way, it didn't matter. It was a wake-up call for sure. I was  going to have to rein myself in, keep a lower profile until I pressed  the button on what I was privately referring to as Operation House of  Cards.

Son of a fucking bitch. It was all going so smoothly, too. The lab was  running like clockwork, the Acardis were paying me eye-watering amounts  of money, and unknowingly funding their own destruction. All the chess  pieces were almost exactly where I wanted them.

Clearly, I'd been celebrating too early, though. Blinded by all the  pussy and respect I was getting. Well, I wasn't the first man that had  happened to, and at least it wasn't too late for me. They didn't know I  was The F King, otherwise they'd have sent a SWAT team instead of this  pretty little thing.

Sarina was back-pedaling like her life depended on it. "Um, I mean,  don't worry about that, it's none of my business. I actually got an  application form to see if I can get a job here."

Such a shame, because even if she was a cop …  she was still the sexiest  girl I'd seen in real life with my own two eyes. You can't go deep  enough undercover to fake that. She was sex on legs.         

     



 

What my brain said to do was tip an imaginary hat at her and tell her to  have a delightful evening before I left, but my cock had other ideas. I  was still semi-hard from our bump and grind on the dancefloor, and  teasing her while she flashed the innocent-blues at me.

Lord forgive me, but I still wanted to see what she looked like with my  cock inside her. It'd never happen but, fuck it, I'd already spoken to  her, what was the harm in a little more?

I'd take her to one of the club's semi-private areas, and play a game of  undercover-slut-chicken with her, see how far I could get before she  bailed on it and had to report back that she couldn't continue the  investigation.

Maybe I could get my cock in her mouth, and she'd have to leave the club  while trying to avoid any areas with black lights, because if she  started sucking my hard dick, you can bet she was going to finish the  job and wear some evidence. That brought the smile back to my face,  which seemed to relax her a bit.

"No problem," I said, and leaned forward again. "Listen, why don't we-"

"Hey! You Ryan Crewe?"

I looked up and saw two guys who couldn't have been less welcome at this  point. The sloppy tats and shitty clothes were a dead giveaway that  they were in the Cannibals street gang, who thought they owned this  city. It never rains, but it fucking pours.

"Yeah. Excuse me for a minute," I said to Sarina.

Scooting all the way around the booth so the hottest undercover cop in  the world didn't have to stand up, I got to my feet and ushered both of  them away from our table. I glanced back and saw Sarina was doing her  best to look casual, but she was straining to hear us.

She wasn't as frightened of scary-looking motherfuckers like this as any normal woman would be. Fuck.

"Keep your voices down," I said.

The two of them looked at each other as if I was crazy. Then the guy who  had first spoken, the designated leader of the night I guessed, piped  up.

"Yo, we heard you can get your hands on some F, that right?"

"Sorry, guys, I'm all out for the night," I said.

"Oh, so you can get it, though? Well, let's go get some more, fucker. We'll drive you."

Before I could even say anything, they each took a step in my direction  and reached for me. I backed away, avoiding their grasp for the time  being as righteous fucking indignation swelled up.

"Fuck off, shit for brains."

It was probably not the most diplomatic thing to say, especially to  these kind of people. When they weren't getting high or committing petty  or violent crimes, they were always whining about respect, but I sure  as fuck didn't respect them.

"You wanna die tonight? OK."

The talkative one aimed a straight right in the direction of my chin,  but I dodged to the left and countered with a straight right of my own  that caught him flush in the nose. I saw the blood beginning to flow  already as he staggered back and bumped into some girl at the edge of  the dancefloor. Sarina was standing by our booth, looking like a deer in  the headlights.

The silent one rushed me, swinging with a wild left hook at my head that  I managed to block, but which still hit with enough force to send me  stumbling back and to my left. He kept on coming, as I tried to regain  my balance. The first guy knocked over the woman he'd staggered into and  started in my direction again.

I got my feet properly under me again, just as another punch came  whistling at me, sneaking through my guard and catching me right on the  forehead. I heard the ‘thunk' inside my head over the music and saw  stars for a second, stumbling back even further.

Still, however much it hurt me, it hurt him enough to make him utilize  his powers of speech. He cradled his hand for a second, it was likely  broken, and cussed me out with more imagination than I would have given  him credit for. Then he kept on advancing on me.

I aimed a left hook at his head, which he was forced to block with his  broken hand, and followed it up with a right cross to his chin that made  his legs wobbly. Unfortunately, the first Cannibal was back, and  fucking furious beyond belief, raining punches on me that I barely had  time to block, let alone consider countering.

He faked a right cross and I ducked, only to wind up catching a powerful  uppercut right in the stomach. I immediately got nostalgic for the days  when I was getting punched in the forehead, because holy fuck that  hurt.

The wind was knocked out of me and I thought I'd rather get punched a  thousand times in the head than one good one right in the stomach. I  managed to tie his arms up enough that he wasn't able to keep on  punching me, but I saw his friend about to re-enter the fight already,  and I still couldn't breathe.         

     



 

This was about to get really bad for me.





Sarina





There was nothing in Ryan's file linking him to the Cannibals street  gang, so this was something to put in the report, at the very least. If  it was them that was in charge of the manufacture and distribution of F  in the city, it would have actually surprised me though.

The street gangs, of which the Cannibals were the undisputed Kings of  Shit Mountain in Highston, operated on a lower level than the older,  more organized, and better-funded Acardi family. It was hard to imagine  they had the equipment and know-how to produce a product like F on the  kind of scale the department was starting to uncover.

Still, if the rumors were true, The F King was one man, and if he  decided to make a deal with the Cannibals, then that might be all it  took, depending on who he was. So why in the hell were these two  fighting Ryan? Did he sell somewhere he wasn't supposed to sell? Turf  dispute?

If only I could have heard what they were saying over the music, but the  first thing Ryan had done was pull them out of earshot. Whatever it  was, it sure went south quickly.

Ryan more or less held his own against the two of them by handling them  one at a time, but once he caught a punch flush in the stomach, it  looked like he wouldn't be able to stave the first one off before the  second rejoined the fight.

The second gang member had something in his hand. It looked like this was about to get nasty.

I'd been told in my brief that the men in this world liked their women  to be seen and not heard, candy for the arm and the eye and out of the  way of the men's business. Ryan already thought I was acting unusual,  and if I stepped into a fist fight with a Cannibal, I'd be acting even  less like the kind of woman who could quietly slip into his network.

On the other hand, my investigation was pretty much up shit creek if he  got killed within an hour of my meeting him. I grabbed the bottle of  Champagne by the neck and pulled it out of the ice bucket.

It seemed like my heart had been working overtime ever since I'd first  laid eyes on Ryan. As I approached the three of them, only a few steps  behind the second gang member as he rejoined the fight, I told myself  that this was all for the sake of my job.

And I didn't want to see Ryan get hurt. That was the truth bubbling  under the surface. The feel of his hands and his eyes on me was more  exciting than any drug he might be peddling, and more exciting than I  should have let it be, if I had any choice.

Arriving only a second after Ryan became outnumbered, I swung the bottle  with everything I had in an overhead arc, bringing it down on the skull  of the second Cannibal. The bottle shattered, spraying all four of us  with glass and Champagne.