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The F King:A Bad Boy Romance

By:Ada Scott

The F King:A Bad Boy Romance
Ada Scott

 (Still a Bad Boy #3)


The other girls had fake IDs that made them a few years older. Mine made  me a few years younger, and was issued by the United States Government  itself.

"How old are you?" asked the bouncer.

"Twenty-two," I said with a winning smile.

It was such a strange feeling, knowing that everything coming out of my  mouth was a lie or, at least, in service of a grand all-encompassing  lie. That would take some getting used to.

I could see the bouncer counting the years in his head, making sure my  answer matched the date on my driver's license, before glancing at the  rest of my hastily-formed posse for the night. He held my ID out to me.

"Not freshmen?"

"No." I drew the word out with slight indignation.

"Alright, have a good time."

The bouncer stood aside, and I ushered everybody through, making sure I  obstructed his view of Millie, the most baby-faced of the bunch. Getting  a group of eighteen and nineteen-year-old girls into a club was only  the first little egg I was going to have to break in this undercover  omelet, because it would have looked suspicious for me to turn up in a  club and wait alone for my target.

Janice opened a door and the higher tones of music and partying joined  the steady rhythm of bass that you could hear and feel for a block down  the street. As far as any of these girls knew, this was a  "Chicks-before-dicks, ice-breaker night," where a few of us from the  dorm could get to know each other and have some fun.

"Wooooooo!" squealed Janice, throwing her hands in the air and starting to dance before she even hit the dancefloor.

"I can't believe it worked!" said Millie, grabbing my arm and bouncing. "I only just got this ID before I left home."

"First round on me, what are you having?"

"Um, Tropical Painkiller! You sure, though? I mean... you don't have to, we just met-"

"Course I'm sure! Believe me, you're getting the next round," I laughed.  "Tell the others they're having some Tropical Painkillers and claim a  spot so I can tell them where to bring the drinks!"

"OK! Omigod, this year is gonna rock!"

Millie walked, almost skipped, to join Janice and the others on the  dancefloor. I had to admit, their enthusiasm was pretty infectious, and  my smile was real as I navigated my way to the bar, looking out for the  real life version of the man whose picture I had memorized.

Ryan Crewe was known to frequent this club, but there was no telling  what nights he was going to be here. I was either going to have to build  a reputation for putting my partying ahead of my studies, wait for  better intelligence from my Commanding Officer on some other locations,  or come up with something else.

No sign of him yet, but there were a lot of dimly lit nooks and crannies  to this club that I'd have to casually search between going to the  table, the dancefloor, the restroom and any other excuse I could think  of. In the field at last.

It was a hell of a first undercover assignment. This was no infiltration  of the agriculture students' special hydroponics experiment. I was the  spearhead of an operation to get a handle on F, the new drug that was  taking the country by storm, and its variants.

Ryan was one of very few people we knew to be actively selling the drug.  Rather than just arrest him and take one more low-level dealer off the  streets, we could use him for information and work our way right to the  top of the supply chain.

My CO said it was a testament to my reputation and my work ethic that I  was given this job. Get the information we needed, and it would be like  rocket fuel for my career.

As I arrived at the bar, I tried to stop my heart from leaping at the  thought. I was a long way away from the payoff, from reaping the rewards  of all that hard work I put in at college instead of going out and  partying like this undercover persona.

The bartender worked with some flair, not quite putting on a show but  impressive nonetheless, and soon came to me. He pointed at me and held  his hand up to his ear as he leaned close.

"Six Tropical Painkillers!" I yelled over the music.

With a quick upward jerk of his head, he lined six glasses up and  started doing his thing again. I pushed myself up on the bar and looked  back until I saw Millie waving at me from a booth on the other side,  where she and the others were dropping handbags and taking off jackets.

I turned back to the bartender and caught his eye. "Can I get these brought to our table?"

"What's the table number?"


"What's the table number?"

"Oh …  I'm not sure …  uh … " I turned away again for a second. "It's that booth over there, third from the right?"         



"OK. Fifteen. Seventy-two bucks, thanks."

I handed over my card and slipped a note in the tip jar. After  retrieving my card, I was just about to take the long way around to  table fifteen when I had an idea. I turned back to the bar, leaning on  it and accidentally-on-purpose folding my arms under my breasts to push  them together, trying to get the bartender's attention again.

He was just about to serve somebody else when gravity momentarily dragged his eyes down before he wrestled them up again.

"Something else?" he asked.

"Hey, are there any jobs going here?"

He stepped back, tore a sheet off a pad sitting on top of a display  fridge, and handed it to me. "You'll have to fill out an application and  attach your résumé, but there's a long waiting list."

"OK, thanks."

I gave myself a mental pat on the back. If I could get a job here, that  would give me a great excuse to be here, whether I could find a group of  cover-friends or not.

Taking the long way back to our table let me glance into a few more  places I hadn't checked yet, but I didn't spot Ryan. I arrived at the  booth at the same time as the fruity drinks, and the cheer that went up  was almost as loud as the music.

We raised our glasses and clinked them together before taking our first taste. Millie gulped hers like it was water.

"Hooo-boy," I breathed, surprised at how strong it was.

Sally let out a textbook-Texas "Yeehaw!" and yelled "Dance, bitches!"

Hands were grabbed and I was led to the dancefloor in a chaotic jumble  of short skirts and low cut tops. Not that I was dressed any  differently, of course. I was here to catch somebody's eye, after all.

One round of drinks blurred into others as the six of us danced the  night away and I did my best to balance my party-girl persona with  keeping focused on my responsibilities. The music and the drinks were  intoxicating in more ways than one. It felt good to loosen up for once,  even if it was all a lie.

Frustratingly often, guys would try to dance against me and I had to  move around the group, using the other girls as willing human shields.  Good time or not, I had a job to do.

Despite the stated "chicks-before-dicks" intentions of the night, after a  few hours Millie and Janice had each latched on to some college guys. I  was beginning to silently scold myself for just how far I had allowed  myself to jump the gun earlier, thinking about the stepping stone this  was for my career before I'd even been in the same room as Ryan. It  wasn't going to be that easy.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the face I'd  studied until I saw it in my dreams. I wasn't the only one who noticed  him, either.

As he skirted the dancefloor, girls did double-takes, then tried to look  nonchalant as their dance styles went from hip-hop to stripper. Men  came out of the woodwork to shake his hand, as if paying some kind of  tribute. He glided through the club with some friends in his own little  bubble, and drew my eye even more than he should have.

Tall, dark and classically handsome, in my objective and purely  professional opinion, he filled his suit in all the right ways and moved  with an air of ultimate self-assurance. A hostess cleared away a  "Reserved" sign from a table in a booth and Ryan's group settled in.

My heart was pounding so hard that it was that hectic rhythm rather than  the music that snapped me out of my reverie and made me aware that I  had basically stopped dancing. I hastily found my groove again and tried  to dial back the speed on my whirling mind.

All the training, all the waiting, it was all going to be put to the  test tonight after all. Ryan Crewe was here …  and I had to get his  attention.


It wasn't easy to keep a straight face the first time I heard a rumor  about myself, told to me in excited whispers. They called me The F King,  a mad scientist type making this "good shit" for the Mafia, or one of  the street gangs, they didn't know which.

Apparently, the criminal underworld hired him to kill people with  untraceable poisons, and nobody dared fuck with him. I smiled and  nodded, and told them it was all true, I had a source of F, a guy who  knew a guy and so on, and he told me the exact same things.