Bad Professor (An Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (110 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Kya

I
got to the cabstand, still feeling confident. Fenton was upstairs asleep, and I
could get back before he woke up. I would not even have to tell him I was the
one that left to get his things. I stopped for a moment and considered asking
Kev Casey to do it for me, but the last thing I wanted was to owe that man a
favor.

"Is Mike
here?" I asked.

The uniformed man
at the cabstand shook his head. "No, he's off-duty. But I suppose you
could call him. He's a sucker for requests."

"No, he
deserves a little time off," I said. I got into the first cab in line and
handed the driver the white card. "Can you take me to this address?"

The driver nodded
without a word and slipped into traffic. He drove fast, with no music on and
none of the chatter I had come to expect from cab drivers. He only gave me one
sullen glance in the rear view mirror and then concentrated on the road.

In the silence, I
had plenty of time to second-guess what I was doing. If Fenton woke up and
found me gone, he would be angry. Not only was I off and, according to him,
more likely to get myself in trouble, but I was still trying to impress him. I
had to make sure he knew it was for him, not the business deal.

The cab slammed to
a stop before I could figure out how to convince Fenton I was not just another
sneaky agent. The driver handed me back the little white card and tapped the
digital meter.

"How much if
you wait for me?" I asked.

The driver handed
me a smudged business card with his cab company's number on it.

"You can't
wait a few minutes? Leave the meter running," I said. "Seriously,
I'll be right back. I don't want to call another cab and wait."

The driver
shrugged and took my cash. As soon as I got out the car, he drove off. A
nervous chill slipped down my back. I missed ol' Mike and could see him shaking
his head at me. I had told myself this was a simple gesture, something nice to
do for Fenton, but I was getting the feeling I was only going to make more
trouble. I shivered on the street, feeling exposed, and looked around for the
address on the card.

The Wynn Casino
and Hotel was lit up nearby, and as I looked around, I started to feel better.
It was busy section of the strip. Lots of shops were still open, catering to
the late-night shoppers of Las Vegas. There were blindingly bright neon signs
leading partygoers to food and drink. And, there were knots of people heading
this way and that, enjoying their Vegas vacations.

You're
fine
,
I told myself. Still, I had the uneasy feeling I was being watched.

It’s
a silly thought
, I tried to convince myself. No one would
be after me. I was a low-level agent, clearly not a high roller. Even if they
knew me from the luxury suite at the Tropicana, they could see I had nothing on
me.

I turned quickly
and rang the bell next to the street number that matched the card. The door was
otherwise unmarked and I was relieved when a uniformed concierge opened the
door. The logo on his crisp white shirt matched the card and I stepped forward,
happy to get off the street.

"I'm sorry,
this is a private club," the concierge said.

"I realize
that," I said. "I'm just here to pick up something for a member. You
can bring it out to me, but I'd really rather come inside." I stepped
forward again, feeling a rising need to get off the street, even though I could
not see anyone suspicious behind me.

"We operate
very exclusively. I cannot let you inside," the concierge said. "For
the safety and privacy of our members."

I glanced back at
the street. A tour bus parked by the curb and let a steady stream of people out
to swarm into the nearby souvenir shops. I was being silly – there was no one
out there but tourists. I figured the paranoia was because I was tired. I just
wanted to get Fenton's phone and get back to the suite as soon as possible.

"I know, I
mean, I'm sorry," I handed him the card. "I'm just here to pick up
Fenton Morris' things. He is staying elsewhere tonight."

The concierge's
lips quirked up, but he nodded at the card and let me inside. I trotted into
the all-white lobby, ridiculously glad to be inside.

"What exactly
are you picking up?"

"Mr. Morris
would like a clean change of clothes and most importantly, his phone," I
said.

The concierge
disappeared through a white unmarked door. I jumped a foot into the air when a
voice behind me said, "Mr. Morris?"

I turned and came
face to face with Mario Peretti, Fenton's MMA rival. Up close, he was just as
fierce and intimidating as all his posters portrayed him – until he smiled.

"I'm Mario,
nice to meet you . . .?"

"Allen. Kya
Allen," I said.

"Ah, the
endorsement agent," Mario said. "Don't worry, I only listen to the
good things. Guys like Fenton and I know all about how different reputations
can be from the truth."

I relaxed and
reached out a hand to shake his. "It's nice to meet you, Mario. So, you
don't think Fenton lives up to his reputation? You might be the only one in
Vegas that feels that way right about now," I said.

"I don't
think I'm alone in that," Mario said and smiled at me again.

I felt my cheeks
warm and changed the subject. "I didn't think rival fighters would share a
gym?"

"I was the
one that suggested this place," Mario said. "Fenton and I talk
outside of fights, trash talk, and photo ops."

"You
do?"

"Yeah. It
makes sense. We have a lot in common," Mario said. "He's like me,
setting everything else aside until he gets to the top. Though, I'm starting to
see why he having trouble keeping everything separated."

I drummed my hands
on the white desk and wished the concierge would come back. "Why do you
say that?"

"I recognize
you." Mario leaned against the tall desk. "From the fight. As I rule,
I block out the crowd, most fighters do. I was just so surprised to see
Fenton's look out there that I had to glance, too. He was looking at you."

"That's
impossible, there were tons of people in the crowd that night," I said. My
cheeks flared warmer.

"But I
recognize you. Thanks for helping me land that punch," he said.

"No, please
don't say that. That's horrible," I cried.

He chuckled.
"Fenton may have lost the fight, but everyone loves a comeback story.
Don't get me wrong, I'm going to stop him, but the next time, it'll be a fair
fight."

"I'm excited
to see that, live on television from my hotel room," I said.

Fenton's rival
laughed again. "Nah, he'll want you there. Now that I've seen you up
close, I can't really say that Fenton lost the fight. Seems like he might be on
a lucky streak." Mario winked at me and sauntered away.

The concierge
returned and handed me Fenton's black duffel bag. "Will that be all,
miss?"

I nodded and
headed out the door. My mind was reeling. Fenton had seen me – I was the reason
he was knocked out. Out over a sea of faces, he saw me. The thought was
thrilling at the same time as my guilt was confirmed. The door to the private
club locked behind me and the sound shook me from my thoughts.

"Oh, the
cab," I muttered. I should have asked the concierge to call me a cab.
Then, I could have waited inside.

I hefted Fenton's
duffel bag onto my shoulder and fumbled for my phone. I dialed the number to
the cab company and tapped my foot. The dispatcher promised me it would only be
a ten-minute wait.

You're
fine, everything's fine
, I told myself.

The street was
still busy, and the tour bus was still waiting for its swarm to return with
plastic knick-knacks. I forced myself to browse a postcard display. It was
silly to feel like someone was watching me. Vegas was an anonymous town, and no
one knew me. I was no one special. Still, the feeling persisted and I worried
that someone was watching me in particular.

"Ms. Allen,
so nice to see you again," a voice said.

I turned and drew
back, almost knocking over the post card display with Fenton's black duffel
bag. "How do you know my name?"

The man in suit
gave me a sharp smile and narrowed his eyes. "I checked up on you. I know
all about you. Ms. Kya Allen, endorsement agent. Normally, you chase tennis
players and golfers, but your boss thought you needed a challenge. You're here
to sign Fenton Morris, but you haven't made it happen yet."

"Who needs
Fenton Morris?" I said. "I just met Mario Peretti and right now, he's
the better bet."

"Really?"
The man eyed the white door. He had been watching me and seen me go both in and
come out.

"Yes," I
said, glad he was distracted from Fenton. "Plus, he doesn't come with all
the bad boy bullshit. Fenton's a walking circus right now, and I'm just not
into that."

"Liar,"
the man in the suit said. "You might be focusing your business elsewhere,
but you certainly are not done with Mr. Morris."

I realized I was
still holding Fenton's duffel bag. "What business is it of yours?"

"I saw the
way he reacted to your little stunt with my friend," he said. "You
hardly had time to do more than smile before he was up in my friend's face.
That kind of jealousy just confirms a little theory I have about you two."

I saw a yellow cab
pull over in front of the private gym. I edged towards it, my heart pounding.
Behind it a black town car parked and flashed its headlights. The man in the
black pants and t-shirt got out of the town car and strode towards us.

"See, I think
you and Mr. Morris are not coming together on a business front because you are
together elsewhere. Or at least, you want to be. You're not his normal
shiny-dressed slut, so I'm thinking it’s more serious than that. Dare I say
love?"

I shoved past the
man in the suit. "You can keep your theories to yourself, and your
threats. Fenton's not going to do what you say. You can't threaten him."

"You're
right," he said. "Threats don't work against a man like Fenton
Morris. So, what we need is good old-fashioned leverage. And, you know what makes
the best leverage?"

I marched towards
the yellow cab, but the man in black stopped me. "You're not going to find
any dirt on Fenton. You don't have any leverage."

I looked up and
the tall man's brown eyes flashed with an apology. He yanked the black duffel
bag from my hand easily and wrapped his other arm around my shoulders. I was
forced towards the black town car.

"Don't be
looking to him for help," the man in the suit said. "My muscle here
doesn't appreciate being flirted with and used. You just smiled at him to make
Fenton mad. He's a nice guy, but that's gotta hurt. Now, get in the car before
he has to hurt you."

"Wait, what
are you doing?" I asked.

"I told you –
leverage. Fenton will do exactly what we asked him to do because if he doesn't,
he won't ever see you again."

CHAPTER TWENTY

Fenton

I
woke up when the melted ice slipped off my ribs and hit the floor. The bruise
was survivable and I was annoyed I had let myself give in to it even for a
minute. Maybe Kya had slipped me a sleeping pill along with the aspirin. It had
nothing to do with the relief I felt at seeing her safe back in her hotel room.

The crazy girl had
showed up at a bare-knuckle boxing match to tell me she had followed the
criminals blackmailing me. I sat up and shook my head. No wonder I could not
relax until she was behind locked doors. I could imagine her following the two
thugs into the boxing match. She must have stuck out like real gold in a sea of
rhinestones.

I got up and went
towards the master bedroom. Our whole conversation had been foggy, but I
remembered her saying one thing – it was me, not my business, she was
interested in. The thought smoldered, and I had to hear her say it again. I
needed her lips on mine.

The room was dark,
but it was easy to see the snow-white duvet was undisturbed. I forgot about my
stiff muscles and marched through the entire suite. Kya was gone.

I rushed back out
to the living room and stopped cold. The white card from my private gym was
gone. A smile cracked my split lip, but I grimaced more at Kya than the pain.
She did not know that I wanted her safe more than I wanted my stuff. I worried
that I had missed a call from my sister, but Dana Maria was tough – tougher
than me. And, she had not accidentally flirted with the very criminals set on
making me lose my next fight.

I racked my brain for
the private gym's address and told the first cabbie I could find. He drove me
there without a word. The concierge frowned at my appearance, but recognized me
and let me in without hesitation.

"Was a woman
here? About 5'5", coppery hair," I swept my hands over the curved
outline of Kya's body.

"Yes. About a
half an hour ago. She collected your things and left. She had your card. I
thought you sent her. I'm so sorry, Mr. Morris," the concierge said.

"No, don't
worry. You did the right thing. It's just she hasn't come back yet. Did you see
her get in a cab?" I asked. Rising panic throttled my throat.

"I would have
called her a cab, sir. She left before I could. Then, her friends picked her
up."

"Her
friends?" I asked. I lunged across the white desk and caught the already
redfaced concierge by the collar. "What friends?"

"In a black
town car. I don't know. A man in a suit and his driver. Some tall guy in black
pants and a black shirt," he choked out.

"She went
with them willingly?" I asked.

"I couldn't
tell, sir. Wait, do you think they took her? I stood here and watched her get
kidnapped?" Tears sprung to his eyes, and I realized the concierge was
just a young man, maybe not even twenty-two.

"It's fine,
you're fine. Don't say a word." I released him and he crumpled onto the
desk. "You hear me? Everything is fine and you are not going to say a
word."

"But,
sir…"

"I'm serious.
I know where she is, and you can bet your ass I'm going to get her back,"
I said.

I turned to the
door and swore. My cab had left.

"Take my
car," the young man said. "Black Mustang out back. Looks like junk,
but she drives fast."

I grabbed the car
keys he held up and raced out the back door. The black Mustang roared to life
and I tore through the back streets of Vegas. I turned the lights off and
coasted along when I reached the other boxing gym. I was sure the owner knew
the men trying to fix my fight. If he didn't know where they took Kya, the
least he would know was how to contact them. I parked the car out of sight and
rolled up my sleeves as I marched to the door.

The gym owner had
the misfortune of walking out right as I charged in. I grabbed him by his
shirtfront and slammed him against the plate glass window.

"Where is
she? What have they done to her?" I asked.

"Nothing, I
don't know. I mean, they won't do anything to her. She's leverage, right? If
you lose the fight like they ask, then she'll be fine." He held up both
hands and I saw them tremble.

I let go of his
shirt with one hand, intended to pound more information out of him, but my
phone rang. "Hello?"

"Mr. Morris,
I don't think I've ever formally introduced myself. My name is Mr.
Winchester."

I recognized the
sly voice of the man in the suit. "What have you done with Kya? I better
hear her voice in the next ten seconds," I said.

"Fenton? I'm
sorry. I was just trying to do something nice for you, get your phone,"
Kya said.

"Did they
hurt you? Where are you?" I asked.

"I'm fine,
I'll be fine. Just stay away. Win your fight. They're not going to do anything
to me," she said.

I clenched my fist
and punched a hole in the wall near the terrified gym owner's head. "I
can't let anything happen to you."

"Then, lose
the fight, Mr. Morris. It is as simple as that," Mr. Winchester said. The
line went dead.

I turned back to
the gym owner and his eyes rolled back as I tightened my grip on his shirt.
"Where are they?"

"I don't
know. I don't know what's going on," he whimpered.

Realization swept
over me, and the alarmed ringing in my ears stopped. "Yes, you do. You
knew they took her. I did not even have to explain what I meant. You knew they
took her and planned to hold her for leverage. Tell me where they are and I
won't flatten your skull."

"I don't
know. I don't want anything to do with them. They've got leverage over me, too,
man. They know where my kids go to school."

I watched his eyes
and saw them dart back and forth between me and a scuffed door near the back of
the gym. I dropped him and headed towards the door. I kept my steps light. When
I cracked open the door and saw the staircase leading down, it confirmed what I
thought– there was a basement and somewhere down there, they were holding Kya.

One look was all
it took to silence the gym owner. He nodded and went to the door, opened it and
closed it. From downstairs it would sound as if I had left. He then shuffled
back to his office, slammed the door, and locked it.

I took the steps
one at a time. Easing my weight onto each one stopped them from creaking.
Downstairs, I could hear voices.

"This is not
what I signed up for."

"Stop complaining,
Toby. You can have the girl if the fighter doesn't lose."

"Don't be
disgusting, Winchester."

"Oh, come on,
you were so happy when she hit on you at the bar. Doesn't it bother you she
just did it to make Fenton Morris jealous?"

I saw Winchester's
shiny suit. The tall man in black, Toby, leaned on the far wall with his
chiseled arms crossed. Kya sat on a stack of gym mats, her wrists tied
together, a bandana tied into her mouth.

"She was just
using you," Winchester continued. "And, that's all we're doing. The
fighter loses, we collect a fortune on the spread, and she goes free."

"And, what
happens if she goes straight for the police?" Toby asked. "I didn't
sign up to do time for kidnapping."

I ducked as Toby's
brown eyes swept up the stairs near where I crouched. He stood up and faced his
boss. "I'm thinking I should just walk out of here right now."

"Don't be
stupid. I mean, you are stupid, but try a little harder. I know you're not a
kidnapper and you've got a soft spot for the pretty lady there. If you take a
step up those stairs, I can't promise I won't get to know her a lot
better."

Bile rose up in my
throat. I was going to kill Winchester. Across the room, Toby felt the same,
but did not move. The two men faced off. Behind them, I saw Kya slip out of her
restraints. She leapt down from the stack of gym mats and ran for the stairs.

As Toby swept her
up in his arms, I took my chance. I lunged out from the stairs and clocked
Winchester hard as he turned towards me. His expression of anger turned into a
snarl.

"Fenton, no!
He's got a gun!" Kya struggled hard against Toby. He swung her out of the
way and kept her safe as Winchester took aim at me.

"Tie her up
again, Toby. Get over here and help me. Our friend needs a little more
convincing," Winchester instructed.

Toby did not move.
When Winchester glanced at him, I pounced. One hard kick to his hand dropped
the gun to the ground. My momentum carried through and brought a lethal punch
to his jaw. He dropped to the cement floor and laid still.

Toby picked up the
gun and tucked it in his belt. Then, he let Kya go.

"Thank
you," she said to him.

She ran to me and
jumped into my arms. I refused to let her go and carried her upstairs. Even as
I drove the Mustang back, I could not let go of her hand.

The early morning
light was gray and the Tropicana strangely deserted. We walked in the front
doors and into an elevator without seeing another soul. Neither of us said a
word until the suite door locked behind us.

"I was just
trying to do you a favor. I'm so sorry," Kya said.

I stopped her with
a kiss and my lips did not stop there. I devoured her, starving for her against
me. We stumbled across the living room. She wrapped her arms around my neck,
opened her mouth to my plunging kisses, and we did not make it farther than the
floor in front of fireplace.

I lowered her
gently to the ground, our lips never parting. She tangled her hands in my hair
and arched against me, as though needing to be as close as possible. Her dress
slipped up her body and over her head. I ripped off my sweatshirt and shirt.
Coming back against her bare skin ignited my whole body.

She whispered into
my kisses, her lips wet against me, "I just want you, Fenton.
Please."

I lowered myself
into her, the wet, tight heat of her pulling all the air out of my lungs. I
panted against the slope of her neck, buried deep in the incredible sweetness
of her. Then, she wrapped her legs around my waist and started a rhythm against
me that I had to answer. Our lips found each other again and we caught each other's
cries of pleasure as our bodies crested. I poured into Kya, falling deeper into
her than I ever thought possible.