British Bad Boys: Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

He clapped me on the back. “Such an optimist. I like that about you. It gives you a certain, oh, innocence that in the end only adds to your many attributes. I can honestly see why women drop at your feet, but sometimes, cousin, you just have to admit that the game is over and the chick just isn’t that into you. Checkmate. I win.”

  “She used to be into me.”

  “Till you broke her heart.” He grinned and ruffled my hair. “Bloody hell, it feels great to beat your arse. Let’s do another wager.”

  As he nattered on about bets and pounds, I kept my eyes on Remi, watching as she applied red lipstick and ran quick fingers through her disheveled hair.

  She’d hadn’t even said goodbye, and she made it clear she didn’t want to be my friend. But as I watched her not watching me, I took in the strained lines around her eyes.

  “Oi, are you listening to me?” Spider asked.

  “No.”

  “Why the bloody hell not? I’m taking sporting bets here, and you’re off in la-la land. You haven’t gotten into my hash have you? Come on, let’s get a drink or hit the kebab place across the street. Loser has to pay though.” He smirked. “That’s you.”

  “Yeah,” I murmured, but I was only half listening.

  Remi must have felt the weight of my stare because she glanced up and our eyes met and clung to each other. My pulse kicked up, and in that moment I wanted to stay with her.

  You can’t.

  But . . .

  “It’s not over yet,” I muttered under my breath as we walked away.

  5

  Dax and Spider walked away and headed toward the stairs. I watched his broad shoulders disappear until he was swallowed by the crowd.

  My pounding heart finally relaxed.

  God help me.

  I’d kissed the boy I’d loved; the boy who’d ripped my heart out and then tossed it away like some forgotten thing. I’d inhaled his intoxicating scent and talked to him face to face. Something I’d sworn I’d never do again.

  The fear on his face when he’d asked if I’d been in love with him had reiterated everything I suspected about him. His heart was locked away, enclosed in an impenetrable castle.

  I had to protect myself from him.

  The thing is, Dax is a temporary guy and I’m a forever girl, and the two didn’t go together. Ever.

  I closed my eyes, remembering the dark place he’d put me in three years ago and the secret I’d kept from him.

  I opened my eyes to see Lulu watching me, her eyes soft with concern. She sat next to me in the booth and gave my shoulder a squeeze. “You feeling okay?”

  I nodded. “Good.”

  “Uh-huh. So, question . . . how on earth did you end up with Dax and the blue-haired guy? There’s got to be a good story there.”

  “I tripped and fell in his lap. I—I didn’t know who he was.”

  “And?” she said.

  “One thing led to another . . . we kissed.” I exhaled. “It was amazing—as usual.”

  Her green eyes widened. “Shit.”

  “Yeah, mega shit,” I mumbled.

  “No wonder you’re white as a ghost.”

  I nodded, filling her in on the details of him carting me upstairs.

  She took a sip of her drink, eyes watchful as they raked over me. “Did I do the right thing by being a bitch and sending him away? ’Cause I gotta tell ya, you looked a bit conflicted for a moment.”

  I had?

  She snorted. “God, I wish Hartford could have seen him kiss you though. He’d have pissed his pants. Dax Blay, the most popular Tau ever, making out with his ex-fiancée.”

  Hartford.

  A pang struck, right in the center of my chest. Another failure. I was zero for two when it came to love.

  And with that thought in mind, I checked my phone to see if Hartford had called. We hadn’t had any communication since Mario’s.

  “Any messages?” Lulu asked.

  I sighed, scrolling through my texts. “Just Mom. She wants me to come home and beg Hartford to take me back.”

  “And miss this fantastic country? You deserve this vacation, Remi.”

  I took a sip of water and set it down, carefully choosing my words. “I’ve been thinking. Do you think that if I loved Hartford enough, I’d give him the break he wanted and just wait for him to figure us out?”

  She scrunched her nose as if she smelled something bad. “You aren’t exactly the type of girl who swallows her pride and waits for a guy to make up his mind. You’re strong and independent. Once they hurt you, you tend to distance yourself.”

  I nodded, taking that in. “But did you ever think I was, I don’t know, settling because Hartford fit my plan: dependable, low-risk . . .”

  “Girl, only you can answer that.”

  I leaned my head back against the seat, my eyes searching the club for Dax. “Dax certainly isn’t low-risk.”

  Lulu’s eyebrows rose. “He may be hotter than a cow brander, but he broke you, Remi.” She glanced over my shoulder and clapped. “Speaking of walking orgasms, here come the guys I was telling you about.”

  The two Brits she’d danced with earlier came over to our booth with big smiles. Both were grunge types with dark jeans and heavy, silver jewelry. Not my type.

  So. You just need to have fun, I reminded myself.

  Lulu directed the taller one with a Mohawk to sit next to me while the darker-haired smaller one sat next to Lulu.

  Within minutes, he and Lulu had cozied up to each other while Mohawk guy turned to me and started chatting. His name was Chad and his accent was different from Dax’s. I supposed it might be because Dax had lived in the States for several years, or perhaps this guy was from a different part of the UK.

  I could have asked him—but no matter how hard I tried, I just wasn’t interested.

  Not anymore. Not after seeing Dax.

  We ordered a new round of drinks, but I declined and asked for more water, wanting to come down from my buzz. My high from before had deflated, and all I wanted to do was leave the club, lay my head on crisp hotel sheets, and sleep.

  Chad tried hard to impress me, and I smiled and nodded in all the right places even though his breath smelled like stale peppermint.

  We struck up a conversation about the nearby touristy things to do, but soon moved on to who designed my dress and jewelry. He toyed with my tennis bracelet, making my skin crawl.

  It wasn’t personal. I just wasn’t in the mood.

  I edged away from him and put my hands in my lap.

  He slipped his arm around my shoulders in the booth and worked up to touching my hair. Soon his hand drifted across my bare shoulders and then dipped into the back of my dress to caress my skin.

  Nausea saved me.

  My belly had been rumbling in the background since I’d gotten upstairs, but now it seemed imminent. I needed air.

  I stood up from the booth. “I need to go to the restroom.”

  “Don’t you want your shoes?” Lulu called as I left the booth and moved toward the stairs. Concern crossed her face.

  “No. I’m never wearing those heels again.”

  “But your feet will get dirty.”

  I shrugged. Normally that might bother me, but I’d had enough drinks to forget about the floor inside the club.

  “Hey wait, I’ll go with you,” she called, catching up with me as I reached the bottom of the stairs. She hooked her arm through mine. “You didn’t eat any tacos did you?”

  I pushed out a smile. “You don’t have to come with me, you know. Stay with the guys.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. Dax made me feel guilty. I’m not taking my eyes off you again.” She grinned. “I told the guys to wait for us upstairs.”

  My ankle worked well enough to get me down a darkened hallway at the back of the club, where a blinking neon arrow indicated the ladies’ restroom.

  We walked inside a packed room with several drunken girls waiting in line for several stalls. Perfume and the close proximity of th
e women stifled me. I fanned my face with my hands. And this is why I hated clubs. I’d much rather be at home watching old movies with Malcolm.

  “Once you break the seal . . .” Lulu did the pee dance. “Where you going?” she asked as I turned back to leave.

  “You stay. I don’t have to go. Just—don’t feel well and it’s too hot in here. Tequila, I guess.”

  “Don’t go far,” she called as I exited.

  Once outside the room, I leaned back against the wall of the club, fighting with my roiling stomach. A bead of sweat rolled down my face and I shoved strands of hair behind my ears.

  A rush of fresh air hit my face as someone walked out a back door that read EMERGENCY EXIT several feet away.

  Yes! Air!

  I turned to head that way, but a male voice stopped me. “Hiya, sweets.”

  I turned around to see the bartender, but he looked different, having changed from his white employee shirt to a black tee.

  “I poured some shots for you earlier tonight?” A gruff laugh came out. “You probably don’t even remember me.”

  “No, no. I’m sorry. I do actually. It’s Mike, right?”

  He shot me a grin. “Yeah. Last time I saw you, you were throwing shoes and turning flips.”

  I grimaced. “Sorry you had to witness that ridiculousness. Par for the course, I’m afraid.”

  He’d probably seen me sucking face with Dax too. Nice.

  I edged toward the exit door a little at a time, hoping he’d take the hint, but he kept talking, mostly thanking me for leaving him the tip.

  “So, I’m off work. You wanna grab a drink together or dance?” He’d stepped in closer to me, taller than I remembered, and smelling nice.

  I opened my mouth to say no when I happened to glance up at one of the smaller balconies that went out over the dance floor, giving the occupants a bird’s eye view of the entire club. One of the roving spotlights landed squarely on Dax’s face as he leaned over the railing to gaze out.

  As I watched him from afar, the slutty redhead from earlier came up to him and draped herself on his arm.

  My gut clenched.

  Seeing him with other girls never got any easier, although I’d learned to hide my jealousy well over the years.

  As if he sensed me, he turned and our eyes connected over the heads of people thrashing on the dance floor. He had his mask back on, but his turbulent eyes were boring into mine, digging under my skin.

  God, please, no matter what, I had to stay away.

  “Hey?”

  Shaking off his gaze, I blinked and looked back at Mike. “Sorry. I zoned out.” I let out a weak laugh. “Truth is, I really want to puke right now—maybe a rain check? I’m here all week, and I’m sure my friend will want to come back.” Unfortunately.

  He took a quick step back, a wary expression on his face. “Oh. That sucks. Yeah, do what you have to do to feel better.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to head outside for a bit. Is it safe out there?”

  “Sure. Employees use that door and there’s a car park to the left and a main road to the right. You’re fine.” He waved a hasty goodbye and beat it out to where the action was. He grabbed a blonde by the hand and they took off to the dance floor.

  Obviously, talk of vomit made guys scarce.

  Once outside the exit, I saw a deserted alley, except for an old green dumpster and a scrawny cat eating from a box of takeout. The feline hissed and sent me a glare before diving back into the Styrofoam container.

  A single lamppost near the street provided enough light that it was considerably brighter outside than the inside of the club. I sighed and sat down on a rickety metal chair with a myriad of cigarette butts around the legs. The employees probably took their smoke breaks out here.

  After a few minutes of air, I immediately felt better.

  I checked the time on my phone. Midnight in London, which meant seven at night in Raleigh.

  Hartford was probably going out with his friends tonight.

  I opened my camera on my phone, swiping at the selfies I’d taken with Lulu around London today. After a red-eye flight the day before, we’d slept in this morning at The Tower Hotel. We’d gotten up in time to catch a pre-scheduled tour of Shakespeare’s Globe and then had dinner and drinks at Swan, a hip two-story bar and restaurant with panoramic views of the Thames and St. Paul’s Cathedral. The night view of the skyline had been absolutely breathtaking—just like I had carefully planned for our honeymoon. Too bad Hartford had missed it. My chest tightened.

  I kept scrolling and found the last pic I’d taken of Hartford and me. It was taken three weeks ago; we’d been on a visit to UNC Chapel Hill where he was planning to attend medical school next fall. We stood side by side, wearing half-smiles, our bodies close. The air that day had been sticky and humid, as solid as breathing bricks—and I’d wanted hot Krispy Kreme donuts on the way home.

  Yet . . .

  What I couldn’t remember was the emotion I felt as we posed for that picture.

  Where had we gone wrong?

  More importantly, why hadn’t I thought of him when I was kissing Dax?

  The metal door from the club clanged open, yanking me back.

  Goodbye, peace and quiet.

  Chad eased out the door, his narrow face turned away from me as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket and lit one, his fingers cupping the flame so it didn’t blow out in the wind.

  He stopped and squinted when he saw me, surprised yet satisfied. He ambled over to where I sat. “Hey, thought you went to the loo?”

  In the light, his frame was more muscular than I recalled.

  “Just needed some air.” I stood up. “I got it.”

  “No need to run off,” he commented wryly as I brushed past him. “I don’t bite.”

  I felt more than saw him following me as I took long strides back to the door.

  He’s just weird. Keep walking.

  I yanked open the door, but he slammed it shut with a forceful palm. “I’m not done talking to you.”

  I flinched at the stench of smoke and stale alcohol on his breath.

  “I want to go back in. Lulu’s waiting for me.”

  He cupped my shoulder, turned me to face him, and trailed his finger down my arm to toy with my bracelet. “You wear some pretty things. I really like this bracelet. Are the diamonds real?”

  I jerked away from him. “Keep your hands to yourself.”

  “Hey, it was just a question. No need to get upset. Why don’t you hand it over and let me take a look at it?” His hand settled at my throat. Just a light touch, but . . .

  “No! Let me go.” I twisted away from him and reached for the door again.

  His hand clamped tighter around my throat, squeezing on either side. My fingers clawed at his as he held me prisoner with just one hand.

  “I was trying to be nice to you before, but you’re a bit of a bitch,” he said softly.

  Panic skyrocketed.

  My fingers clawed harder, jerking and hammering, but the pressure only hurt my throat.

  I tried to swallow. Nothing.

  I inhaled, sucking for air. Nothing.

  A noise came from the street as a car came by, startling him. He switched around, put one of his arms around my waist, and dragged me behind the dumpster. My feet kicked and tried to find purchase on the ground but got nowhere. Self-defense moves my dad had taught me flashed through my head, and I tried to remember them.

  He pushed me to the ground and straddled me, his legs clamping like vise-grips around my hips. “Be still,” he bit out.

  Okay, okay. I nodded, forcing my muscles to loosen, letting my hands fall to my sides.

  His hand disappeared from my windpipe.

  Fight!

  My elbow connected squarely with his ribs, and he grunted and roared at me. I hit him again in the chest with a right hook as hard as I could.

  I yelled for anyone who might be listening, but my voice was shit.

  He slap
ped me, twisting my face around.

  He reached for my hands to secure them. Evading, I punched him in the gut, a weak shot.

  I scratched at his face, aiming for his eye, and he yelped as blood popped out and tracked down his cheek.

  “Be still!” he yelled as he ripped the necklace from my throat. Sterling silver with a heart between two wings, it was a gift from Malcolm—not worth much, except for sentimental value. But then he dove for my bracelet, jerking on my wrist until I thought my arm would pop out of its socket.

  I whimpered. Grief gutted me, beating the fear.

  Not my bracelet!

  I answered by shoving my fist at his throat—a move Malcolm had shown me—scoring a hit; he dropped back and grabbed his neck, gasping.

  He pounced back, landing on my chest, and I know I should have felt some kind of pain, but the fear was too high, the need to survive overriding the circumstances. With a lightning move, he snatched the bracelet off my wrist, no doubt breaking the clasp.

  No! It was all I had left of my dad!

  “I’ve never killed anyone for a stupid piece of jewelry, but you’re a different story.” His face was livid with rage.

  “Don’t,” I gasped out. “Please.”

  Everything I’d been consumed with for the past two weeks: my mother’s disappointment, Hartford’s jilting, school—all stupid, stupid, stupid.

  This. This is what mattered. Life.

  Savoring each moment because you don’t know when it’s your last one.

  Being mindful and present for the small things.

  The color of the sky. A daisy. Falling snow.

  Don’t let me die, I prayed.

  I wanted to eat new kinds of donuts.

  Get a tattoo.

  Dance.

  Fall in love.

  In a blink, Chad disappeared, his body colliding with the metal dumpster like a bag of dirt.

  I turned my head toward the door.

  Dear God. Dax.

  He rushed Chad, shoving him to the concrete where they tangled on the ground, both of them grunting and punching. Vicious sounds of skin meeting skin reached my ears. I tried to move, to get up and help. Something!

  I hoisted myself up to my hands and knees and crawled in their direction.

  Please don’t let Dax get hurt.