Fixer: A Bad Boy Romance
Contents
Front title
Copyright
Mailing list opportunity
Dedication
Inner title
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
The End?
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SELLING GRACE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The End!
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Fixer
Samantha Westlake
Copyright 2016 Samantha Westlake
All rights reserved.
Fixer: A Bad Boy Romance
Book design by Samantha Westlake
Cover Image Copyright 2016
Used under a Creative Commons Attribution License:
http://www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0
Adult content warning: All characters are legal and fully consenting adults and are not blood relations.
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A Billion Little Clues
Melinda Gaines, overworked personal assistant, is cursed with permanently bad luck. Her boss keeps making unreasonable demands, and no guy has seen the inside of her apartment in months.
But when Melinda is sent to a party at the CEO's house, she ends up on a romantic, moonlit balcony with an unnervingly handsome stranger. Melinda is convinced that her run of bad luck is over.
That is, until she finds that her latest crush is being accused of murder...
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Dedication
For all my readers, both new and returning. I write it all for you.
Fixer: A Bad Boy Romance
Chapter One
*
Striding into the club, brilliant spotlights and the flashes of camera phones going off all around him, the man didn't bother to straighten his jacket or check his tie. He didn't look down as his polished black shoes strode ahead, didn't brush any microscopic bits of dust off of his broad shoulders or dark pants.
This man knew that he looked good. No, scratch that - he looked amazing. The suit was worth every penny of the nearly five thousand dollars that he'd paid for it; he felt it clinging perfectly to his muscular body in all the right places.
Even in a club like this one, he knew that his suit, shoes, even the Cartier Astrotourbillon watch gleaming on his wrist, all attracted plenty of attention. The young women who hung around in places like this could gauge the net worth of a man down to the penny, and their eyes lingered hungrily on his powerful frame as he passed.
He didn't glance over at them, didn't allow for eye contact to even offer up the suggestion of something happening. Not tonight.
Keegan Tanner was here on business.
Still, he knew how to give the right impression. In a town like this one, after all, everyone had an agenda, and deceit was second nature to Tanner, just like it was for everyone else that he knew. So instead of searching the crowded club for his target, he headed for the bar.
There was a space open for him, of course. Tanner didn't need to deal with pushing his way in past a crowd of jocks and bros all milling about and taking shots. He was better than that. He was the kind of person, he thought to himself with a little grin that he couldn't completely hide, who made things happen.
The bartender popped up next to him immediately. Tanner's suit wasn't flashy, but its cut and fine fabric practically screamed money - and the heavy Cartier on his wrist acted like a bullhorn for that scream.
"What can I get you?" he asked.
Tanner didn't bother asking for a menu. "Laphroaig twenty-five, neat."
The expensive order didn't faze the man behind the counter. Less than thirty seconds later, a glass with two fingers of beautiful amber liquid was set carefully in front of him.
Instead of a credit card, Tanner pulled a hundred dollar bill from his pocket, dropping it on the bar. He didn't want to leave any trace that he'd been here, and using a credit card was an easy way to be connected with an event. He knew better than to make that mistake.
Sweeping up the glass, Tanner held it first before his nose, taking in the complex aroma and bouquet of the scotch before allowing the liquid to reach his lips. Stepping back, towards the wall, he let his eyes drift around the interior of the club.
Billy Martin's usually cultivated a more reserved atmosphere during the dinnertime hours, but this late at night, the place opened up into a party zone, albeit a high-end and expensive one. In addition, the latest Congressional session had just reconvened, and staffers and congressmen alike were still energized from vacation and looking to make new connections.
Several girls slipped past Tanner, giggling as their tiny dresses and slutty outfits threatened to reveal both nipples and asses. Tanner's eyes strayed for a moment to follow them, but he pulled his gaze off of the girls with an effort.
He had a job to do here; he could enjoy a bit of fun after he'd completed his assignment.
Tanner recognized several faces in the crowd, both male and female, but he didn't see his target. He frowned, covering his irritation with another sip of the liquor, letting the burn flow down his throat.
His target must be in the raised dais area. A slightly more exclusive section of the restaurant, although still not any problem for Tanner. Holding his glass in one hand, he cut across the dance floor, slipping sideways to move between some of the gyrating bodies. Hands reached out to brush against him, feeling him up, but he didn't push them away. Instead, he just slid on, letting the hands drop off of the smooth fabric of his suit.
Although, now that he considered his challenge...
The girls who'd s
miled and giggled at him a few minutes earlier now danced nearby, their hands up above their heads and gyrating perfect, lithe little teenage bodies back and forth in the flickering lights. One of them, the blonde, turned and looked back over her shoulder at Tanner. She bit her lip in a way that, if Tanner wasn't on a mission, would likely have promised an unforgettable rest of his night.
He smiled back, raising a hand and crooking a finger at them.
The blonde didn't move; she just raised her eyebrows as if to ask, "so what? What are you offering?"
In answer, Tanner flicked his eyes towards the dais, the VIP area.
That sealed it. The blonde smiled, turning and giving her chest one last little bounce to make her perky tits wiggle in a manner that pulled at his eyes like a magnet. She nudged her two companions, and they headed over to Tanner.
Looping his arm over the blonde, Tanner turned and headed for the raised part of the restaurant.
The massive bouncer standing at the entrance to the raised dais area looked like he'd been poured into his suit. Tanner cast a dismissive eye over the cheap fabric, but he didn't miss how the suit strained to cover the bouncer's huge arms and shoulders. This wasn't a man to cross, not if Tanner didn't want to be thrown - airborne - out of the club.
"Name?" he grunted at Tanner, his little black eyes squinting.
"Keegan Tanner." Tanner waited a beat, trying to hide his irritation as the bouncer consulted a list. A paper list, for chrissake! Who still used something like that? Instead, he flicked his attention down to the squirming little blonde pressing herself against him. She knew exactly what kind of reaction her movements provoked, he knew, as she smirked up at him like a vixen.
"Need me to spell it for you?" he asked sarcastically, as the bouncer's huge, stubby finger slowly slid down the sheet of paper on the clipboard.
"Nah, found it. 'Kay, you're good." Predictably, Billy Martin's had hired the bouncer more for his muscles than for any sort of cognitive ability.
Tanner slid past the bouncer, the girls flouncing along with him, stepping up onto the raised area. Up here, gauzy curtains helped create the illusion of privacy, blocking a little of the booming sound from the massive speakers on the dance floor. The area was broken up by couches and low tables, turning a large space into lots of intimate little areas where half a dozen people could relax, sip at drinks, and talk without needing to shout over the pounding music.
Tanner's eyes swept around the area as he paused, idly letting his hand slide down the blonde's backside. There! He spotted the unmistakable white hair of his target, sitting in a booth several rows over. Tanner cut towards the man, sliding into a booth several spots away that nonetheless offered a clear line of sight.
"So, girls," he murmured to the three young women who bounced into the booth along with him. "Want to have some fun?"
"We like fun," the blonde replied eagerly, her two friends nodding along like puppets. "What sort of fun?"
Tanner guessed that the sparkle in her eyes wasn't entirely natural. She probably got a bit of help from some "natural enhancers," the kind that came as a white powder and went up her nose. "Not that kind of fun," he replied, and saw her face droop slightly in a momentary frown. "But one that will pay off well for you." His eyes moved to her two companions. "All of you."
He saw interest in the girls' eyes, so he kept talking. "See that man over there?" He pointed to his target. "The one with the white hair, in the blue suit? He's a senator - and a buddy of mine. Senator Waltz. And although he'll never admit it, he's lonely."
"Aww, that's so sad," commented one of the brunettes, not sounding sympathetic at all. Instead, she already sounded hungry. Tanner swallowed his grin.
This was going to be too easy.
"It is. His wife's a complete bitch, has no respect for his job. He does a lot of work to help the people from his state, and no one ever appreciates him for it." He noticed a waitress passing by, and waved her over. "A bottle of Dom, and four glasses - three for my companions, here-" the girls giggled, "-and one for their guest."
As the waitress hurried off to retrieve his order, Tanner turned to the girls. "So? Can you go and cheer up my buddy, the senator?"
The two brunettes looked ready to hop over to Waltz's booth right away, but the blonde's eyes remained on Tanner. "And I was hoping that you'd be the one partying with us," she purred.
He smiled back at her, beckoning her forward - and from his pocket, he drew out a business card. "Entertain my buddy for tonight, and I'll be happy to thank you whenever you next feel like... partying," he offered, passing the card over to her.
The blonde made the card disappear, although given her skimpy little outfit, Tanner wasn't sure where she managed to secret it away. "Deal," she said, just as the waitress reappeared with the champagne and glasses.
Smiling, Tanner leaned back in the booth, sipping at his scotch as he watched the girls bounce over to Senator Waltz's booth. He looked surprised and opened his mouth to protest at first, but the blonde leaned forward to dangle her breasts in his face, cutting off his complaints. Tanner nearly snorted into his glass.
So easy.
The waitress handed over the champagne, and the blonde tossed back the entire contents of her glass in a single swallow. Her eyes flicked briefly over to Tanner before returning back to Waltz, making sure that he saw her open up her throat.
Waltz didn't miss the implications, either. His hand curled out around the girl, and she snuggled in against him, her hands already straying to dangerous areas. Tanner watched for a moment longer, making sure that Waltz wasn't suddenly about to grow a conscience - and then reached into the inner jacket pocket of his suit.
Drawing out a small but powerful camera, he snapped several shots, varying several settings to make sure that he captured every angle of the senator's features. At one point, Tanner even leaned a little bit out of his booth, holding out the camera so he could capture the blonde's hand as it rested firmly on the man's crotch.
Snapping the pictures only took a few moments. "Just like that," Tanner murmured to himself, stowing the camera away. "Easy."
Of course, these pictures would likely never see the light of day. Tomorrow, as Senator Waltz recovered from his hangover, Tanner would pay a surreptitious visit to his office. With just the two of them alone in the office, he'd bring out a few chosen images from the album, spread a couple of glossy, high-resolution prints out on the senator's desk. He'd let the man mull over these images for a few minutes, letting the desperation grow.
And then...
Well, some of the Pentagon defense contracts were up for renewal - and Senator David Waltz sat on the Subcommittee on Financial and Contracting Oversight. Although the senator was known for taking more of a dove stance, rather than a hawk stance, on military spending, Tanner suspected that he might change his mind, especially after seeing these pictures.
After all, Senator Waltz built much of his Senate career on his integrity. Wouldn't it be a shame if that integrity was compromised by some very illicit pictures surfacing at the absolute worst time, appearing on the front pages of several newspapers and all over the web?
Sitting back in his booth, Tanner let himself smile, his lips pulling back to reveal perfect white teeth. He savored the last of his Laphroaig, considered ordering another.
In fact, he did want another.
He checked out the waitress's ass as she sauntered away with his empty glass, promising to bring him a refill. Not bad. If the blonde ended up going home with the Senator after all, he had plenty of other options.
Yes, Tanner thought to himself, he had everything a man could want. Wealth, power, women drooling over him... all of it was second nature.
And moving among them, like a shark amid tuna... all in a day's work.
Chapter Two
*
The next afternoon, Keegan Tanner strode across the National Mall, breezing along and doing his best to not notice the occasional crowd of milling, gawking tourists. Amateurs, he
thought to himself with disdain. Coming here, staring wildly at the monuments and snapping photographs of sculptures, as if that was where the power lay.
Tanner knew that the monuments, the big buildings and fancy galleries full of oil paintings, were just window dressing. That wasn't where the real power lay, the true shot callers in Washington, DC.
He stepped off of the main avenue and headed up the broad stone steps to a nondescript, blocky building, on First Street, a few blocks away from the white dome of the Capitol. He ducked into the lobby, glad to feel the cold wash of air conditioned air hit him and sweep away the thin layer of sweat starting to break out on his forehead. Summer in DC tended to hang around into the fall, as if reluctant to relinquish its stranglehold on the city.
"ID, Mr. Tanner?"
Tanner sighed at the guard. "Come on, Charlie, I'm just here to drop off an envelope for Pribus. Do I really need to dig the damn card out every time?"
The guard shrugged, not without some sympathy in his expression. "Hey, rules are rules. Gotta keep this place secure. More than my ass is worth, if someone gets in here." He chuckled. "You know the secrets that we keep in this place, more than anyone."
"I do know, I suppose," Tanner acknowledged. He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew his ID card, which he held out for Charlie to scan.
"Thank you, sir," Charlie said a moment later, after the scanner beeped and flashed green. "Sounds like things went well?"
"Quite well, yes." Tanner started to head past the guard, but then paused. What the hell, Charlie could use a bit of excitement in his life. Poor sucker was stuck standing at this desk all day, getting paid squat. "Here, you want to see what we're up against?"
Ducking back to the guard's station, Tanner pulled open the large yellow-brown envelope in his hands. He tugged out a few of the photographs he'd chosen to print off, fanning them out so that Charlie could see.
"Damn!" Charlie whistled, his eyes going wide as he leaned in to peer closer at a few of the images. "Is that-"
"Our frequent enemy, scourge of the Republican party, David Waltz," Tanner finished for him. "The last bastion of morality in Washington, speaking out against corruption and lies." He chuckled. "And no, that's definitely not his wife. Neither of them, in fact."