Fixer: A Bad Boy Romance Read online

  Charlie shook his head in mingled shock and amusement as Tanner slipped the pictures back into the envelope. "You do it again, Mr. Tanner. Best fixer in Washington, you are."

  "And don't let anyone tell you otherwise," Tanner said. He made a show of glancing at his watch. "Actually, Charlie, I'm running a bit late for another appointment." He hefted the envelope. "You think that you could..."

  "No problem, sir," the guard jumped in. He reached out and took the envelope from Tanner. "I'll have it right up to Mr. Pribus's office."

  "No rush on them," Tanner added, giving Charlie a wink. He could see that the guard was itching to fish out the photos and get a second, longer look - probably in private. "Waltz already agreed to make sure that nobody at the Pentagon goes home disappointed that their contract's been dropped. These are just some extra insurance."

  Charlie reassured Tanner once again that he could handle dropping off the pictures, and Tanner believed him. He'd trusted Charlie with other jobs before, and knew that the guard wouldn't let him down.

  With a wave, Tanner headed out of the Republican Party's national headquarters. Capitol Lounge, his destination, was only a few blocks away, and Tanner made a spur of the moment decision to walk, rather than catch a taxi or Uber ride. His long legs made short work of the distance, and he relished the opportunity to check his reflection in some of the glass storefront windows he passed.

  Before ducking into the Capitol Lounge, he stopped at one of these reflecting windows, raising a hand to his hair. Of course, not a single dark strand was out of place. Barely out of his twenties, and getting more handsome by the day, Tanner grinned to himself. On the top of his obvious good looks, he was also at the top of his career, with half of the most powerful people in DC on his speed dial.

  Despite the sun sitting low in the sky, the heat still settled over the city like an oppressive wet blanket. Tanner grabbed the door to the Capitol Lounge and slipped inside before he could start sweating through his expensive suit.

  "Hey, Keegan! Over here!"

  The interior of the Capitol Lounge was decked out in dark wood, with a wood-paneled ceiling and a long bar running almost the entire length of the Nixon Room. The bar was only sparsely populated at the moment, although Tanner knew that it would fill up quickly as the sun dropped below the horizon and staffers across the city managed to escape from the watchful eyes of their bosses.

  At the bar, a lone man waved his slightly chubby hand in the air, as if Tanner could somehow miss spotting him. "Yo, Keegan!" he called out again.

  Tanner rolled his eyes as he crossed the interior of the Nixon Room, over to the bar. "Yes, Freddie, I see you. Everyone sees you. You don't need to shout."

  "I just wanted to make sure that I got your attention," Freddie pouted, as Tanner pulled out the stool beside him and took a seat. His pout turned to a smirk. "You know, since you walk around with your head up your ass most of the time."

  "Big words, coming from a guy who hasn't touched a girl since his mom stopped breastfeeding," Tanner fired back.

  "Not true! I also worked at a senior citizen's center for a year after college, doing IT work for them." Freddie's eyes grew misty as he gazed off into the distance. "Oh, Mrs. Constance, the way your bosom pressed against me whenever you tried to show me pictures of your grandchildren..."

  "You're disgusting," Tanner said, laughing as he socked Freddie in the arm.

  "Right back at you," his chubby drinking companion replied. "I'm just glad to see that you haven't dropped dead from one of the half dozen venereal diseases fighting for control of your body! Or is it up to a full dozen different strains, now?"

  "After last night? Probably closer to two dozen."

  Freddie's eyes went wide. "Okay, you need to tell me everything."

  "What, so you can live vicariously through me?"

  "Uh, duh." Freddie turned towards Tanner, spreading his arms wide. "I mean, look at the two of us! You're a... What's the term for your job, again?"

  "Lobbying specialist," Tanner supplied.

  "Fixer," Freddie said. "A high-powered Republican fixer, walking around in your fancy three thousand dollar suits-"

  "Five thousand."

  "-and flashing your exotic, overpriced watch that's worth enough to buy a car-"

  "Several cars, really."

  "-and with your perfectly sculpted Adonis body and white teeth and amazing hair and wads of money clogging up your pockets!" Freddie paused, frowning. "Okay, hold on. What was my point with all of this, again?"

  "I wish I could tell you," Tanner sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm as lost as you." He spotted the bartender, a young woman with dyed platinum hair and a generous expanse of cleavage on display. He gave her a wave, and received a dimpled smile in response.

  "Oh, now I remember," Freddie piped up after a moment of watching Tanner smile at the bartender. "My point is that I'm never going to pull as much tail as you, so I want to hear about your exploits so that I can have something to fill the void in my life."

  Tanner started to protest, but he knew that Freddie spoke the truth. Maybe if he flashed his last name - Vanderbilt, yes, like the old robber baron from the nineteenth century - he might do a bit better. Not by much, however. Even with the suggestion of family wealth, any girl would still have to deal with Freddie being, well...

  ...Freddie. No other word for it.

  Next to him, Freddie talked right over Tanner's halfhearted protest. "Look, I know that you love bragging about this, even if you deny it to my face. I see the way you grin whenever you've got something juicy. So c'mon, spill!"

  Tanner sighed as he turned back to Freddie. "Why do I put up with you, again?"

  "Oh, I know this one!" Freddie grinned. "Despite all your good looks and charm, you're a shallow asshole who can't make real friends, so you keep me around in order to act as your confidante! And since I'm chubby and nerdy and in IT, you don't feel threatened by me!"

  "Brutal," Tanner winced, but he did have to admit that Freddie's words hit home. More importantly than the other man's physical appearance, however, was Tanner's knowledge that, of all the people he knew and worked alongside, Freddie was the only one who didn't feel jealous or envious over the level of power that Tanner commanded. For that simple reason - he didn't fear being backstabbed - Tanner trusted Freddie enough to share all sorts of intimate details of his life.

  "Eh, you get used to it." Freddie shrugged. "Now, what sort of fun did you have last night, while the rest of us were in bed like normal people?"

  "It eventually ended up in a bed," Tanner said slyly, and Freddie punched him lightly in the shoulder while rolling his eyes. "But I just went to Billy Martin's and tracked down Senator Waltz. Send a few ladies his way, plied them with some champagne, and snuck a few photographs. Easy job."

  Freddie shook his head in admiration. "You say that so casually, but you're playing with people's careers! One of these days, you know that you're going to get burned by this."

  "Not me," Tanner disagreed. "And when I confronted Waltz this morning, he gave in right away. Look, Freddie, this is just the way that politics really works in this town. It's all about leverage."

  "The realist in me knows that what you're saying is true, but the optimist inside me, battered and beaten, keeps hoping that you'll get your comeuppance at some point." Freddie swallowed the last of his beer, dropping the pint glass down heavily onto the wooden bar rail. "You know, that bartender's sure taking a while with your drink. Maybe your flirting game isn't as good as you think."

  "Worked on the girls last night," Tanner replied. "When it turned out that Waltz didn't quite have the... energy to perform, shall we say, they were happy to accept me as a substitute." He grinned. "And while the brunettes put in a good effort, the blonde stole the show. She could fit both her legs back behind her head, and still use her arms to-"

  He stopped, seeing that Freddie had raised his fingers and plugged both his ears. "Enough, stop torturing me!" he burst out, wincing good-naturedly. "Come on
, I know that you're a god at pulling in slutty women, but you drive me crazy with these stories!"

  "Then why do you keep wanting to hear them?"

  He shrugged. "Torturing myself, maybe? Or maybe I'm just eagerly awaiting the day when the great, all-powerful Keegan Tanner finally meets his match and gets taken down a peg, knocked back down to the level of the rest of us mortals."

  "May that day never come," Tanner added, lifting his empty hand as if holding a wineglass for a toast.

  "Your drink, sir - sorry that it took so long."

  Both of the men glanced up as the bartender reappeared, placing a glass of scotch in front of Tanner. "Again, I'm sorry that there was a wait," she repeated, leaning forward with her elbows on the bar and giving the two men a clear look at her expanse of creamy white cleavage on display. "But I'm done with my shift, now, and I feel awful, just awful. Please, let me know if there's anything at all that I can do to make you feel better." Her lazy wink at Tanner left no ambiguity as to the hidden meaning behind these words.

  Next to him, Freddie groaned as he leaned away from the bar. "God, man, it's like the gods blessed you with some sort of pheromones or something, and I just have to sit by and watch."

  Tanner smiled back at the bartender, leaning forward so that their faces were less than a foot apart. "That's very generous of you..."

  "Courtney," she filled in, blinking her long lashes back at him.

  "Courtney," he repeated. "And what do I owe you for the drink?"

  "Let's call it on the house - but you can find a way to repay me for it," she purred, squeezing her eyes into slits for a moment. Her gaze flicked over to Freddie, losing a bit of its seductiveness. "Your total is fourteen dollars, by the way."

  Freddie grumbled and reached for his wallet, but Tanner laid a hand on his friend's arm. "Let me cover his bill," he said to Courtney, standing up. "After all, what are friends for?"

  "What a nice man!" Courtney said, her eyes never leaving Tanner, watching with a satisfied smile as his own gaze drifted down to her expansive chest before returning back up. "So thoughtful and generous."

  Tanner smiled back at her, his eyes not moving from her face even as he took a sip of his scotch. Perfect. "Very generous," he agreed, already thinking of how he'd undress her, claim her soft body with his own hard one, make her scream out his name as he used her ruthlessly for his own pleasure.

  Chapter Three

  *

  "Ah, Tanner! Good of you to make it, sorry for the wait. Come on in."

  Tanner rose up from the black leather couch, tossing aside the tattered copy of The Economist that he'd been idly leafing through. He hadn't been waiting long - the receptionist at the desk had not yet returned with the coffee he requested, although he readily admitted that this delay was, at least in part, his own fault. He'd been flirting with her hard enough to make her stammer and blush, and she insisted on jotting down her phone number for him before darting off to fetch his beverage.

  Still, it wasn't as if he'd turn away a summons from Richard Pribus, head of the Republican National Committee and the closest thing that Tanner had to a direct boss. Pribus had managed the RNC for years, now, and although he put on a kind and patrician face for the public, the man acted like a ruthless killer behind the scenes. He showed no hesitation in resorting to underhanded methods to pursue the RNC's goals when more overt and bipartisan measures failed.

  And when he decided to go in a sneakier direction, Tanner was usually the first one to get a call.

  Tanner buttoned his suit as he stood up from where he'd been waiting. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the receptionist finally returning with his coffee, and he relieved her of the steaming cup with a peck on the cheek. She blushed as she settled back down behind her desk, and Tanner breezed into Pribus's office as he lifted the cup to his lips.

  In his expansive office, Pribus was already settling in behind his massive wooden desk, sighing a little. "You know, I'd prefer if you didn't flirt with the help," he complained as Tanner took the seat in front of the desk. "We go through enough accusations of sexual harassment as it is."

  "Hey, I stop whenever they ask," Tanner pointed out.

  "Yeah, but with you, they don't ask you to stop," Pribus countered.

  Tanner smirked at him. "I don't see the problem."

  "The problem," his boss elaborated, "happens when they all start talking to each other, and they realize that they've all gotten the same treatment from you."

  "Hey, I never told them that we were exclusive!" Tanner kept up his smirk, knowing that Pribus wouldn't stay on this issue forever. Not when he clearly had an actual assignment for Tanner to undertake.

  Sure enough, after another sigh, Pribus dropped the issue. "At least don't do it so blatantly, okay?" he groaned. "But that's not what I called you in here for today."

  "Is this about any issues with the Waltz thing?" Looking over the crowded stacks of paper and other items that littered the top of Pribus's massive desk, Tanner spotted the envelope that he'd handed off to Charlie the night before. Looks like the old security guard came through for him again, he thought happily. No issues there - not that the pictures even proved necessary, given how quickly Waltz had caved and capitulated.

  "No, no, that went fine." Pribus flicked his eyes briefly towards the envelope, then back up to Tanner. "Nice job with that, by the way. You always make these jobs seem so easy."

  Outwardly, Tanner just grinned, pretending that the compliment didn't warm him on the inside. Inside his head, however, he couldn't help preening, just a little bit. Not even halfway through his career, and already considered as the top fixer for the RNC!

  "And that," Pribus continued, "is why I think that you'll be perfect for this next little issue that we're tackling." He reached for a manilla folder, but paused, looking back at Tanner. "It's a particularly tricky one, but we think that you've got the right skills to handle it."

  Tanner just held out his hand. After a moment longer, gazing across the massive expanse of burnished wood at him, Pribus handed over the folder.

  With a flip, Tanner opened up the folder on his lap. The name and picture of his target greeted him on the very first page, staring up at him with intense focus.

  "Alicia Stone?" he read off, frowning slightly.

  "That's right," Pribus confirmed. "She's the freshman senator from Colorado. Just arrived here, but she's already aiming to shake things up in a major way - one that doesn't exactly flow with our goals."

  That was a hell of an understatement, Tanner knew. He'd watched as Stone, a young upstart with no prior political experience, managed to somehow sweep the election in Colorado, winning her Senate seat in a landslide victory. Of course, Colorado had always been a largely blue state, so Stone's victory wasn't impossible to imagine - but she cleared away the incumbent, Gary Gardener, with a strong message of empowerment and change. Despite her youth and inexperience, she was already attracting attention on the national stage.

  Of course she'd pose a concern for Pribus and the Republicans, Tanner knew. Not only was Stone a largely unknown factor, without much of a voting record to be used strategically against her, but she also seemed to have a natural gift for public speaking. Her strong, passionate, firebrand style never failed to energize a crowd - and that energy seemed to persist long after she left the podium. She'd spoken out strongly in favor of gun control, and several Republican congressmen reported receiving record numbers of calls to their offices over the following week.

  "Tell me more," Tanner said to Pribus. He knew that there was more information in the packet on his lap, but he didn't want to sit and read it. He'd pore over every detail in the folder later on, but not now, not here.

  "Well, our biggest concern is her newest project, the one that got her elected. This American Quality Education bill - you've heard of it?"

  Of course Tanner had heard of it. The American Quality Education Bill had been one of the biggest planks in Alicia Stone's platform when she ran for Senate
. She pointed an accusing finger at the education system in general, and Republicans in particular, as the source of many of the country's ills. She promised to divert many more millions of dollars to education spending over the next few years, and swore to make this her number one priority during her time as senator, even going so far as to say that, if she failed at this goal, she wouldn't bother attempting to seek re-election when her term was up.

  Pribus gave Tanner a brief recap of the bill, just in case he'd somehow had his head under a rock for the last election cycle. "This thing is going to look very bad for us," he finished, shaking his head back and forth. "I mean, wasteful spending, on public education no less, is totally against our principles - but if we take a stand against this, we're going to be absolutely battered by this thing, over and over, you know?"

  "Sure," Tanner agreed. "You support this, and our supporters will accuse us of wasteful spending. We stand against it, and we'll get blamed for mortgaging the future of our children."

  Pribus pointed across his desk at Tanner. "Nailed it, right on the nose. This thing gets us either way. And that's where you come in."

  "Me?"

  "Yep. Your newest job is to kill this thing. I don't know how, don't know what it will take to get rid of it, but I want it gone. And I suspect that the easiest way to kill it is to cut off the head." He pointed over his desk at the folder sitting in Tanner's lap. "That means getting to this freshman and showing her that, just because she charged up the yokels back in Colorado, it doesn't mean that she'll be able to have her way here in Washington. Understand?"

  Tanner looked back down at the still-open folder in his lap. This time, instead of reading through any of the enclosed documents, most of which contained information on the bill and what it might contain, he focused his attention on the picture of Alicia Stone.

  Pretty, he thought to himself. That, just by itself, was a rarity among the Washington elite. Oh, sure, most of the men did their best to look esteemed and handsome, but the women who ran in high powered circles didn't go for pretty. Pretty suggested vulnerable, suggested weakness, suggested that they could be exploited.