What the fuck?
37
Bang!
My shoulder crashed into the door and the cheap wood cracked. I rammed my hand inside and turned the knob. I don’t know why I didn’t just run back into my place and cross over the balcony, but this seemed faster.
A light burned from underneath her bedroom door and I headed that way. It was locked too. Fuck!
I kicked in the door and slipped inside, ready to kill whoever was here.
But what I saw made me pause, every nightmare ever imagined playing out in front of me.
Colby stood behind a bound and gagged Elizabeth on her knees, a knife at her throat.
“Don’t come any closer,” he warned, pushing the knife in far enough that blood bloomed on her neck and dripped down.
I jerked to a halt and held my hands up. “It’s cool. Just don’t hurt her, and all of this will work out.”
He inhaled sharply, his cold eyes leveled at me. “Oh? Like you hurt me?” He tightened his grip around her shoulders, and I watched as her eyes flared wide.
I wanted to rip his throat out with my bare hands. My chest heaved and it sounded loud in the quiet room as we faced off.
“I don’t see a way out of this that works for you,” I said softly, backing away from him while angling myself toward her dresser.
He grunted. “I do. You think you can touch me? Don’t you know who I am?”
I nodded. Oh, I knew exactly who he was. He’d hurt my Elizabeth.
I looked at her. “It’s going to be okay, love. I got this, okay. I will never let anything bad happen to you, got it?”
She nodded.
“Shut up! Stop talking!” he yelled at me, his knuckles white, still holding the knife against her throat as he pulled her up and forced her to walk to the bathroom. He shoved her inside and she fell to the floor. “Get in there until I figure out what to do with both of you.” He slammed the door and paced around me, his face contorted in a snarl. He eyed me warily, taking in my body.
I made myself look small, huddling in the corner. Waiting. He was bound to make a move with the knife, and I had to be ready.
The sound of sirens pierced the silence.
Feral eyes roamed around the room as if looking for the origin of the sound and then focused on me. “You called the cops.” He tightened his grip on the knife.
I shook my head. “It’s a college town. Cops are out everywhere. You can still leave and nothing bad will have happened. I don’t want to hurt you.”
God, I wanted to kill him.
I was going to kill him.
The sirens got louder and louder, and he paused, his head cocked toward the balcony. The flash of blue lights came in through the window, and he looked back at me, his eyes bulging with rage.
I lunged for him, avoiding the hand with the knife.
We fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs and the knife skittered across the floor.
Fists flew, mostly mine, but some of his hits connected with my bruises and I flinched, ripples of pain in my body.
I tore into him with palm strikes and punches.
He might be a crazed fighter hopped up on adrenaline, but I was the goddamfucking talent.
And I was going to kill him.
My strikes zeroed in on his temple. A palm strike to the face, one to the ribs, and another to the liver.
His head dangled, wobbling like a broken doll’s. His eyes shut.
He was out.
I exhaled, the sound of Elizabeth beating on the bathroom door permeating my senses.
I wiped my face, feeling the trickle of blood. I didn’t want to scare her more than she already had been. I stood and looked around for something to tie up Colby with before I’d let Elizabeth out here.
A red-hot pain sliced into my leg. Colby had come to—had he ever been out?—and had grabbed the knife and plunged it into my thigh.
I roared, the rage in me skyrocketing. The room spiraled as I spun around and launched myself on top of Colby. I slammed a fist into his face. Another to his groin.
Oh yeah, I liked the sound he made when that connected.
The bathroom door collapsed and Elizabeth’s body lay on top of it, her eyes frantic as she took me in. I laughed rather oddly. I guess she’d beat it down to get to me.
Her, her. That was all that mattered. Shit, I didn’t want her to be scared.
Nothing would ever happen to her. I loved her. I wanted to be with her forever. I wanted to make babies with her. I wanted to wrap her up in a cocoon of love…
And just then, things got hazy. I felt weak. My blood was everywhere, pooling on her tile.
Shit. Wait. Got to save her.
Fading.
Everything went black.
38
I touched his face. Cool. He was pale, too.
I worried my bottom lip with my teeth and pulled up the hospital sheet to tuck it around him more securely.
He’d almost died in front of me. Tears pricked at my eyelids, but I beat them back when I saw his hand twitch. Time to be strong.
His eyes fluttered.
Long black lashes—God, how had I never noticed how beautiful every single hair on him was?—lifted and he gazed up at me, at first disoriented, but then a slow dawning in his eyes.
“I’m alive?” His voice sounded like it had been dragged over gravel.
“Halleluiah! He speaks,” Dax shouted out with whoop from a green recliner where he’d been sleeping for the past few hours.
A pretty nurse popped her head in and looked at Declan. Smiled. “You’re awake. Great. I’ll let the doctor know.”
“She can check out the Sex Lord anytime,” Dax snarked.
He then leaned over and inspected Declan. “You’ll live, I guess. Just my luck.”
“Arsehole,” Declan muttered at him. “Always thinking about yourself.”
I smiled. If he had died—God, I would have wanted to go with him.
He focused back on me. “What happened? I blacked out …” I watched his face as he pieced it all together.
I nodded gently. “You’ve been here for about twelve hours. The police arrived just after you went down. They arrested Colby and called an ambulance for you.” I licked dry lips. “He—he nicked your femoral artery. If it hadn’t been for the quick-thinking policeman who tied off your thigh, you would have bled to death.” I took a deep breath. “You spent four hours in emergency surgery to repair the vessel—a kind of graft. You probably won’t be able to walk without crutches for a few weeks.”
“I’ll live then.” His eyes devoured me, raking over my face, my lips. “How are you? Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head. “Just what you saw. I told the police what happened.”
“Everything?”
I took his hand and squeezed. “Yes. They’ve arrested him, but his dad has already made a statement on television. He said he knows Colby’s innocent, so we may have a bumpy road ahead of us.”
“Like hell we will.” Winston Blay walked in the room, his suit wrinkled from being up all night with Dax and me. We’d spent the last few hours talking a lot, and I’d filled him in on everything about Colby and what had happened to me. He’d been surprisingly understanding, and we’d formed a bond while waiting for Declan to pull through surgery. He’d told me how he was glad Declan had come to him for money instead of continuing the illegal fights. In the end, I think all he wanted was for Declan to find some happiness. “He may be a Senator, but I’m an ambassador, and no jerk-off southern good ole boy is going to try to kill my son and think he’s going to get away with it.”
Dax did a fist pump. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
I leaned down to Declan. “Your dad has been on the phone all morning, lining up lawyers and talking to bigwigs. He’s been good to me, too. He found my mom and Karl in Petal and they’re at their local police station now, giving a statement about how they tried to blackmail the Scotts’.”
That seemed to satisfy Declan. He g
azed at me. “God, I was so afraid I was going to lose you forever. I—I don’t think I would have survived that.”
I kissed him, not caring that people were watching, but Mr. Blay and Dax discreetly left the room. I pulled back and rested my face against his shoulder. “No, I was afraid you were dead. I—I can’t even think about it.”
Declan patted the covers. “Get in the bed with me.”
I eyed him warily. “You’ve got too many wires hooked up to you to get freaky.”
“I don’t want to shag you. I want to love you.” He sat up in bed and scooted over. There was barely room for me, he was so big, but he tugged me down until I was lying across him, his hard body warm against mine. He pushed a hand through my hair to cup my head. “When I get out of this hospital bed, I am taking you away from this town and we are going to be alone, without the gym or uni or family or anything. I have some things to show you.”
“Good things?” I teased.
“I want to take you to London and show you where I grew up. I want to visit my mum’s grave with you and tell her how I found the perfectly broken girl to fall in love with. I want to watch you eat a proper shepherd’s pie—maybe show you how to make it.”
“I don’t cook. All I can make is ramen noodles.”
He smiled. “Then I’ll eat ramen.”
Poor guy.
I laughed. Giddy. “You really do love me,” I teased. “I’m yours, Declan, and I will do my best to make you happy and never live with any stupid regrets. I promise you I will always focus on the future.” I pressed my lips to his lightly. “I’m not going to judge myself on the past. I don’t live there anymore.”
He studied me as I talked, and when I stopped, his mouth captured mine, his tongue sweeping out and plunging deep. I sank into him, immersing myself in his scent, his warmth, his bulk. He kissed me soft and sweet, then hard and dark, just like I liked it.
I came up for air. “It’s you, always you, my Mr. Darcy.”
“I love you too, Elizabeth Bennett.”
We lay together cuddled up in a tangle of limbs as the sun peeked over the horizon. Two years ago, I’d watched another sunrise and had vowed to never love again, but this, this was different.
This was the beginning of my life.
I’d sensed it from the moment I saw him at that frat party, that movie-worthy experience we sometimes get when we sense a shift in the atmosphere as if something extraordinary is about to happen. It had. I’d found him even with my rules dragging me down. And we’d have troubles like all young people do. Love is never perfect, in fact, it’s the exact opposite of perfect, but that’s okay, because it gives you room to grow and explore. There’d be times when we’d bicker and argue, but we’d have great make-up sex too. And no matter what came our way, I was in this for real. If he wanted to use his fists, I’d stand in his corner and kiss him before he put his gloves on.
He’d do the same for me.
“What are you thinking?” he asked a while later as we snuggled.
I turned my head on the pillow to face him. Some of his color had come back and it made me glad. “My mind is racing, thinking about possibilities. Our future. What I can do with my jewelry. What you can do with your gym. I—I just haven’t been this happy or excited about life in a long time. And you’re in the hospital, which makes it even more weird.” I plucked at the covers. “I feel like I’ve been going through these small yet monumental changes over the past few weeks, and I owe it all to you. Loving you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I bit my lip to keep the tears at bay.
He studied me for a while, his gaze full of complete understanding. “You and me, we got this. I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you. I’m going to give you whatever you want, Unicorn Girl. I’m going to kiss you every single night. I’m going to fuck you and then make love to you. I’m going to give you kids. A home. Happiness. All of my heart.”
Joy filled my soul. “Will you read Jane Austen to me naked?”
He barked out a weak laugh. “I’ll do one better. I’ll make love to you and quote the whole bloody book at the same time.”
“Mm, I could get used to that.”
“Just making sure you get what you want, love.”
We laughed and held each other close as the sun rose higher in the sky.
* * *
Epilogue
Elizabeth
One year later
I settled in on the bench and gazed at the garden surrounding one of the water fountains in Hyde Park. I looked around for Declan, but he’d left to grab us water from one of the vendors near the entrance.
It was a chilly yet beautiful October morning and we were in London for the week to catch up with old school chums and family members of his mom’s.
I sighed. It had been a wonderful year considering the hell we’d been through.
I was in my last year of school, but I’d given up my job at the bookstore to work on my jewelry. Meyers had offered me another contracting design job, and when I wasn’t studying, I was working on new creations.
Blake and Shelley were together. Most of the time. They fought a lot, and I didn’t know if it was going to work out, but I had my fingers crossed.
Dax was his usual self, partying at the frat house and sleeping around. I knew the real man though. Underneath that shiny veneer was a guy looking for love.
My mom had left Karl, and the last time I’d seen her, she’d already found a new guy—a drummer she’d met at a concert.
Declan’s father had given him and Dax a graduation gift of several hundred thousand dollars, therefore canceling the loan. Mr. Blay swore it had always been his intention to give each of his children a college graduation present, and the boys didn’t argue. Mr. Blay and Declan had formed a kind of truce, and while it wasn’t a total reconciliation, it was progress. Dinners at the Blay mansion were still a bit testy and odd, but I was content. Another mountain for us to climb, and we were armed and ready.
It was the best family I’d ever had.
As far as Colby went, he was in jail awaiting trial for first-degree attempted murder for me as well as a count of second-degree attempted murder for Declan. With the duct tape and penknife, it was going to be extremely difficult to prove his innocence. Senator Scott’s personal assistant had also come forward, revealing the blackmail scheme hatched by Karl and Mom, giving Colby plenty of motivation. His sentencing could be up to life in prison without parole. He and his father had done their best to get him out on bail, but because he was a flight risk, it had never come to fruition.
He’d been charged with rape as well, which has no statute of limitations in North Carolina, but the burden of truth rested with me, and my lawyers would have a difficult time proving it. There were pictures of me drunk at prom and the chaperones had tossed us out for being intoxicated. But I’d decided to tell my whole story in court, and Shelley and Blake would also testify. We didn’t know if it would be enough to convict him, but I was in it for the long haul. I was worth it. Declan had told me that a long time ago outside the truck stop, and now I believed it.
Declan came back from the refreshment stand with two bottles of water, his long legs crossing the park as a group of women across the fountain ogled him with hungry eyes—but he ignored them, his gaze locked on mine.
The gym had opened officially in February, and we’d had a huge grand opening party this past May. We were living in an apartment he’d had renovated in the back, and it was small, but for now, it was just us and it was enough.
He smiled at me as he sat down next to me and took my hand to hold it. We’d been coming here each afternoon to take in the pretty flowers and people watch.
Just then, a fluttering flashed across the bench and landed next to us. A dragonfly.
I let out a small gasp and went to nudge Declan, but he’d already seen it.
“She knows I found you,” he murmured and wrapped me up in a hug. We watched as the blue insect hovered around us, flitting fro
m one side of us to the other for the longest time, until finally, she flew away …
* * *
Filthy English
British Bad Boys 2
FILTHY ENGLISH
Copyright © 2016 by Ilsa Madden-Mills
Cover Design by S. K. Hartley with Luminos Graphic House
Model: Quinn Biddle
Photography: David Vance
Editing by Rachel Skinner of Romance Refined and Katherine Trail of KT Editing
Little Dove Publishing
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked statue and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
1
Plain and simple, this night sucked.
Sadly, it was my honeymoon.
I sighed heavily and gazed around Masquerade, an intimately lit London nightclub where everyone wore black domino masks, some elaborate and some plain, to hide their identity. A few die-hards even sported medieval-type clothing and long, loose cloaks.
British Bad Boys: Box Set Page 22