Chapter One

So, I'm the right hand man to the one and only God of mass destruction and Prince of crime. But I didn't just wake up and it be like this, no. I had to work my ass off to get to where I am.

When I said earlier that I couldn't remember how I got here, that was clearly an over exaggeration to further show how fast paced this lifestyle is.

That being said, I took a step into crime when I was seventeen years old.

Let's take a stroll down memory lane.

The year was 1997, I had just dropped out of high school.

I didn't have a job, I didn't have a car, I didn't even have a house. When one doesn't have any of these in this city, they're usually found in bars and at sleazy clubs trying to get free drinks and buy Krocodil disguised as meth.

So the fact that I wasn't doing any of this, is a miracle in itself.

Instead, I was at Buckie's Poker and Pub, whooping complete ass in a game of Texas hold 'em. I only had $13 to my name, and left with $5,050 but let's talk about what happened between the time I got there and the time I left.

"Hey, Kid, you old enough to gamble?" I looked up at one of the waitresses who was eyeing me carefully.

We'd been playing for a while now, and I knew my cards were going to make all these guys wish they would've stayed away.

There was maybe eight other guys around me, all of them had stopped to look at us.

"I'm old enough to do whatever you want me to." I looked up at her and she rolled her jaw, her eyes narrowing.

She was maybe in her mid 30's, she was attractive, too bad I wasn't particularly in the mood to take anyone home—or even to the bathroom for a quickie.

"Hmm." She scoffed, turning to walk away.

"What's your name?" One of the bigger guys asked, I raised a brow and looked around the table at the others.

"Now, why the hell is that your concern?" I cock my head and a couple of the others chuckle a little.

"I like to know who I take every last penny from so I can send them a 'sorry for your loss' card in the mail."

"The only card anyone's gonna be gettin' is you when I send you a postcard of me nailing your wife, after I win." I lick my lips. "All in." I state.

"All in." He adds in to.

"Same here." One of the others nods.

"Same." Another pipes.

I grin, raising my eyes to my main opponent.

His eyes suddenly grow to the size of softballs as he looks at me.

No, not me, someone behind me.

I feel hands grip my shoulders, and smell cologne and faint cigar smoke.

"I–Boss, I was just—" he tried to speak but was interrupted by the person behind me.

"—Ah, ah, ah." A blood chilling voice spoke smoothly. I felt a prickling of my nerves shoot up my spine and I dared to glance at my shoulder to see paper white, ringed fingers holding onto me tightly. "You were supposed to clock in, mmm," he raised his watch. "Forty minutes ago. And here you are, getting your balls handed to you by a seventeen year old boy." He suddenly grabbed my cards and slammed them down, face up, making all the players curse under their breaths. "Winner, winner, chicken dinner." He smiled widely at me, pulling all the money my way.

"Boss, I was just taking a break." The guy argued and my brows shot up.

Did he just talk to the fucking Joker like that?

All I heard was laughter from Joker.

"Break? As in you were tired?"

"Yeah, tired. I'm just a man, Boss. I have to relax at some—"

Next thing I know, there's a bullet hole in his forehead and he's falling from his chair.

I look up to see Joker blow smoke from his pistol.

"Tired!" He cackled, holding the gun to another man's head.

He was shaking, terrified, as he stared off into space it seemed.

"Did you hear that?" J mocked. "He was tired! Tell me, does anyone else here who's under my employment, get tired?!"

I assumed there were others that worked for him that were here because everyone fell silent and some of them looked as though they needed to disappear.

That's when J looked dead at me, a hint of a smirk pulling at his red lips.

"What about you, winner? You get tired?"

I take calm breaths, not letting him know I could shit myself right now.

"I haven't slept in three weeks so I suppose not." I reply, cooly.

He smiles widely, now, pointing the gun at my head.

I see all the high points in my life flash before me, fear uncoils in my stomach and I feel nauseated.

This is it. This is how I die. Trying to intimidate The Joker.

"You're dismissed." He hisses to the other guys and they dart out.

He stares at me, studying me, for a good seven minutes before he tucks his gun back into his holster.

"Tonight's your lucky night, then, Johnny." He tells me.

"How do you know me?" I ask him.

"I know everybody in my city, and what they do. It helps me decide who needs a reality check and who's already seeing their miserable life is a gag." He goes across the table from me, where the dead guy was sitting. He kicks past his body, muttering "excuse me" before sitting down.

"You think I need a reality check?" I ask next.

"Do you look at your life and say, 'damn this is perfect'?"

I can't help but force out a chuckle.

"Fuck no."

"Then you already get the joke." He replies.

"You gonna offer me a job or somethin'?" I raise a brow.

"A job is flipping burgers." He scoffs. "It's for people who have the time to be tired." He sneers at the dead body. "Working for me is a career."

"Does it pay like a career?" I cross my arms.

"Your salary could make the Wayne family look lower middle class. If you're good at your responsibilities, that is."

We look at each other, my mind turning it's gears as I really think about this.

I could die, I could either have someone kill me or drive myself just as mad as him.

I shake my head a little before changing my mind.

"I'll play the game." I nod. "I got nothing to lose. What're the rules?"

He gives me a sly, devilish grin.

Dude fucking terrified me. I ended up In the back of a Cadillac Escalade with him explaining everything there was to know about being a criminal mastermind.

And just when everyone in the fucking city thought he was a crazy clown with no direction, he proved us all wrong in one breath.

"I have a direction, a plan, but it doesn't come to me when plans are supposed to come to people. I do it, and then I realize it was a part of the plan."

Is what he told me.

And it all made fucking sense. This crazy bastard, this God the underworld seemed to worship out of fear, didn't know what the fuck he was doing until he was finished doing it.

So, remember when I told you I didn't just become his right hand man over night?

Yeah, I lied.

Don't get me wrong, I didn't have to work to become his favorite. But I had to work to keep myself in his good graces.

That came with doing crazy shit like waking up at 3 a.m. To go buy fucking balloons and cake icing for The Batman's fucking birthday.

I also had to detonate the bomb in Batman's cake when it accidentally started counting off in the house before we could deliver it to the GCPD building.

It also meant I had to be the biggest cock-block ever to keep women off J.

He was nice lookin' to every woman we came in contact with. And he had warned me about it before, but I didn't believe him until one girl clawed my fucking face up fighting me because I wouldn't let her see him.

Women are crazier than he is, sometimes.

I thought like that, until recently.

Until a new dancer was hired at The Grin and Bare It and Harley had busted into my room the next morning to tell me all about the "sexy little thing" she thought would be "perfect" for me.

Because Harley is possibly one of the most adorable and good hearted people I know (under all the fucking blood lust, Joker lust, and crazy) I didn't completely shut her down to spare her feelings.

The truth was, after an incredibly nasty split with my ex—Veronica—about ten years ago, I never gave women the time of day. Unless it was for sex, and even those cases were rare.

Joker understood it, hell, he even encouraged me to stay away from the satanic succubi that are the female gender. But Harley . . . She's too in love with the idea of love for her own good. She didn't understand, she couldn't.

I know J had been where I was when he met Harley—completely content with being by himself. And ah shad managed to break him of that.

But I'm not him, and women as smart and conniving as Harley are very seldom so I can't see any woman getting into my head and invading my "I'm fine by myself" mentality.

And eventually, Harley trapped me in one of her famous schemes of playing Cupid.

The Woman had to be the most evil being I'd ever met—aside from J.

"Johnny!" Harley exclaimed with a wide smile as I stepped to her.

"Boss said you needed somethin'." I cleared my throat. She grinned deviously from where she sat at the bar and nodded, rubbing her lips together.

"The girls need water." She states and I furrow my brows.

"Isn't Alicia supposed to keep up with that?"

Alicia wasn't a dancer, though she had the body to be one. No, she wasn't nice enough to be a dancer. She was Harley's "right hand". More like one of her gal pals that plots to aggravate the living hell out of us men when they're bored. She was also in charge of making sure the girls had everything they needed. Might I add she could give any man a run for their money when it came to hand to hand combat, I learned that the hard way when I mistook her as a stripper the first time meeting her.

"She went home early to check up on Bud and Lou for me and J." She shrugged. "I need ya to keep the girls hydrated. Dehydrated athletes are unhappy athletes and unhappy athletes don't perform very good and make less money."

"That what we're calling this now?" I motion to the girls in golden Batman masks, earning their tips. "A sport?"

"You shake your ass, do splits and dry hump strangers for twelve hours straight and tell me if you feel like you had a little 30 minute work out or played a fucking sport's game with no bench time." She hissed. "Just get the girls some water." She whined next and I sneered.

"Fine!" I hold my hands out in surrender as she steps behind the bar and hands me a case of water bottles.

"Thanks." She winks.

"Yeah, yeah." I huff, stepping to the back dressing rooms.

I look up at the dimly lit, mirrored ceiling and sighed heavily.

"I better be gettin' a raise after this." I mumble, knocking on the door at the end of the hall.

It swings open, and Aubrey stares me in the eyes . . . As her bare breasts are just out . . . Unclothed . . . And just there.

"Jesus fuck." I look straight up.

"Can I help you?" She leans against the frame.

"Water." I hold the case out.

"What about Alicia?"

"She left early."

"And you're the next best thing to give us water?"

"Aubrey, I assure you I don't want to be here havin' to avoid starin' at your chest. Harley told me being y'all water. I'm doin' what I'm told."

"Mm, that's a good excuse." She scoffs. "Just set it in the corner."

"What? Like go in there? With all y'all buck-ass-naked?!" I look at her now and she raises a brow.

"Ashamed of us or something?" She crosses her arms.

"Ashamed that I've fucked A third of y'all? Little bit." I push past her, going as quickly as I can to the corner, going around half naked women as much as I can.

I set the water down and turn back around, my eyes locking on legitimately the most beautiful woman I've ever fucking seen.

I didn't recognize her, at all . . . And that's when it hit me.

She was the one Harley was trying to get me with.

Then I realized that Harley had me come back here so I'd have the chance to meet her.

She was touching up her lip gloss, she actually had a silk robe on, and her hair was in fresh curlers.

"Close ya mouth." Aubrey hit my shoulder and I shot her an agitated glance.

I look away from the new girl, she didn't see me, which gave me the perfect opportunity to get the fuck out.

I dart to the door and slam it shut, walking back to Harley, who was now in J's lap.

"Hey, doll. How was it?" She asked.

"Who is she?" I snap at her and she smirks smugly, looking up at me.

"Ophelia Edwards—that's her American name, at least." She mixes her martini with her finger. "She's one hell of a dancer. I think you'll like—"

"—No." Me and J both cut her off in a harsh tone.

She pouts, looking between the two of us.

"You're both no fun."

"Why are you so damned concerned with my love life?" I lean down to her level.

"Because you're lonely."

"J doesn't give me the time to be lonely. I'm always with you or him."

"Not at bedtime." She points out. "I mean, you probably cuddle up to your pillow or whack off to—"

"—I'm not havin' this conversation with you." I hold my hand up, can't helping but to crack a smile at her.

"I'm just worried." She explains.

"You ain't gotta be. I'm completely fine bein' by myself."

"Johnny, I studied people for a living. I know what I'm talkin' about." She tapped her head for emphasis and me and J exchanged a look.

"Just go with it." J mouthed to me and I nodded.

I pat her shoulder. "Whatever you say. All I know is that I am content with how . . . " I trail off, seeing Ophelia coming straight for us.

"Harley," she motions to her and Harley hops off J and steps to her.

"My Zipper snagged on my dress, I need you to fix it, please." She asked politely and I took the time to examine her.

She was in a sequin dress (like all of the girls were), it was spaghetti strapped and reached the tops of her thighs. It had wide triangular slits in the sides of it and a plunging neckline that stopped above her navel.

She was naturally on the tanner side with dark hair and dark eyes, and judging by her accent, I think it's safe to assume she's of Indian descent.

"Here," Harley helped her, zipping her dress back when she fixed it.

"Mask on." J ordered her and Ophelia nodded.

"Thanks, Harley." She turned to go, getting ready to put her mask on when Harley grabbed her wrist.

"Wait, Oppie," The woman raised a brow and looked at her. "Have ya met Johnny Frost, our security?" Harley looked to me.

I gave her a "I hate you" look before giving "Oppie" a tight smile.

"Ah, the water boy." She commented and I roll my jaw. "Ophelia." She holds her hand out and I take it.

"Johnny."

"Nice to meet you." She stares a me a moment before J snaps her out of it.

"There a reason you're not making my money?" He barks and she looks at him.

"Sorry, Boss." She mumbles before stepping away from us.

"Ain't she great, Johnny?" Harley giggled.

I watched Ophelia as she stepped into a cage with a couple of other girls, and immediately fell into the rhythm of the music, grinding and gyrating provocatively on them.

I had to look away to keep from getting hard.

J and Harley were staring at me carefully, and I looked at them.

"What?" I ask. They look at each other and Harley laughs as if she's gotten her way, J pressing a small kiss to her neck.

"Nothin'." Is all she says.

I shoulda fucking cut and run that night.

But I couldn't bring myself to.

Instead, I went to Roscoe when we got back to the house.

He was in charge of hiring dancers, he had every thing there was to know about each of them. And my mind was set on Ophelia Edwards.

"Hey, Roscoe," I follow him up the stairs and he turned to face me. "I need everything you got on Ophelia."

He raised a brow and grinned.

"You tryna smash or somethin'?"

"No, no." I shake my head. "No. I just wanna know about her."

"Ah, so you already plannin' you're weddin'?" He continues up the stairs.

"No." I rub my face.

"Then why do you want her whole file, Johnny?"

"Because I can." I state once we get to the top of the stairs. "C'mon, Roscoe. I help you lie to your wife all the time. It's time to repay me."

"You help me because she trusts you more than she trusts me." He scoffs.

"Maybe she'd trust you more if you told her what you do for a living." I suggest and he sighs.

"Point taken." He goes into J's office and unlocks the filing cabinet, looking through the names.

He picks up a thin file, and hands it to me.

"Miss. Edwards. Eat your heart out." He pats my shoulder, shutting the drawer.

"Thanks, Man." I open it, seeing everything from her birthday to where she was originally born.

I studied that folder like a fucking text book. Like some love sick puppy trying to find out everything about his crush.

I hated it. I despised it.

But that didn't stop me. I ended up staying up all night that night. And the next morning, when Harley was making us coffee, Roscoe had to open his mouth, and feed Harley's obsession with my romantic life.

"You what?!" She shrieked and me and J both jumped at the sudden squeal.

"All I did was ask to see her folder so I could find out a little about her."

"You find out a little about her by asking around. You don't memorize her whole life story." J snaps.

"Says the one who did the same damn thing to me." Harley cocks a brow at him and he cuts his eyes at her.

"I asked about you before I went full on stalker."

"I ain't goin' full on stalker," I raise my voice, aggravated. "I just wanted to know more about her and I have."

"And?" Harley wiggles her brows at me.

"She's a pretty descent person. That's all I gotta say about it. Now, leave it be."

"Pretty descent?" Harley was offended by this I guess because she looked astounded. "Pretty descent? I've met pretty descent people and she ain't just descent. I mean, have ya seen her?! The woman is a goddess, Johnny. Obviously not as hot as me but she's a close second." She points a finger at me. "She's a really nice girl once you get to know her."

"Harley, with all do respect, nice people don't survive in this line of business. I don't need a nice girl. I don't want a girl, period."

"You could use a nice girl, though." She argues and I just stare at her blankly. "No? Mkay."