Gentleman Sinner

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  My dazed face turns slowly back toward Theo, and then across to Trystan. “What’s this?” Trystan asks warily.

  “We’re gonna fight,” Theo growls.

  “I don’t think so.” Trystan laughs nervously. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him looking threatened.

  “I do,” Theo says, wandering over to him, rolling his big shoulders. “I promise I won’t kill you,” he vows menacingly, yet everything inside me tells me he just made a promise that’s evaporated into thin air. “Recognize that woman?” Theo asks, pointing toward me. Judy takes my hand as everyone turns to face me. “That’s my girl,” Theo says quietly. “My fucking girl!” His roar is deafening, his body suddenly quaking before he gathers himself and breathes in deeply, his huge chest expanding as his fists clench in preparation.

  I shrink, looking for somewhere to hide when Trystan looks across to me, realization dawning on his nasty face. He sneers. “You set me up?”

  Theo shrugs casually. “I’ll give you first punch,” he says, turning away from him. “I’m a fair fighter.”

  The whole place erupts into chaos, but Theo…Theo just smiles—a smile full of evil and intent. Trystan is about to experience pain like nothing else. I know it the moment Theo’s eyes meet mine before he closes them.

  “Oh my God,” Judy gasps. “No, you stupid man!” She turns to Andy, clenching at the front of his shirt and hiding her face. I look up to her husband, finding him staring with haunted eyes over my shoulder at Theo. His arm wraps around Judy’s back, comforting her. “I can skim over unlawful fights, Judy. Keep the police away,” he murmurs. “But I’ll never get away with hiding murder.” His eyes close, like a million bad memories are attacking him. “Not again.”

  My blank face stares at the couple, my mind trying to process what’s been said. Murder. Not again. Oh my God. “Judy!” I yell, pulling her from Andy’s hold, forcing her to face me. There are tears streaming down her perfectly made-up face.

  “He…he…” she snivels, and I search her eyes, frantic for more than that.

  I shake her, my desperation getting the better of me. “What, Judy? Tell me, please.”

  Checking around us, she moves in close, her voice dropping. “His father. He used to punch Theo when he wasn’t looking, said it would build the resilience and awareness. Said it would toughen him up.” Her words fade, and she looks across to the cage, flinching. “It went on for years.” My fear heightens. “Until Theo killed him.”

  I jump back like I’ve been electrocuted. “No.” Ice spreads like wildfire through my veins, and I whirl around, just as Trystan launches himself at Theo’s back.

  Cheers explode.

  Carnage breaks out.

  And Theo turns into the killing machine I know now he really is.

  His whole body engages, his muscles, his mind, his fists, and he swings around, cracking Trystan on the jaw with a rock-solid punch, sending him sailing through the air with a bloodcurdling yell. I see a broken jaw before I see a few teeth spray into the air. Trystan lands on his back with a thud, the crowd cheering like a bunch of bloodthirsty sickos. It’s ugly. Yet Theo’s animalistic movements are almost artistic in their unfolding. There’s nothing uncontrolled about them. Nothing unplanned or wild. I can see the look of intent on his face. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and that is far more frightening than the frenzied actions of the uncontrolled man that I’ve witnessed before. He has a plan. From the moment I lost my composure in that tattoo studio and refused to feed his need for an explanation, he was on a mission. I should have known he’d get to the bottom of it.

  And now he’s going to kill it.

  My bottom lip begins to tremble, the outcome of this mess set in stone, history wrote before it’s written. There’s nothing anyone can do to save Trystan. He’s trapped in that cage with a monster who won’t stop until he’s finished. I fear Theo will never be finished. He killed his own father. Turned on him. Punished him for hurting him. Trystan really is a dead man.

  I turn at the sound of a quiet sob, Judy’s sob, and find Andy looking full of dread as he tries to comfort his wife. Judy’s eyes turn to mine, filled with tears. “There was only so long he would take his father’s torment before he snapped,” she says, sniffling over her words. “I don’t blame my boy. His dad got what was coming to him. He was a cruel, cruel man.”

  The irony of it all doesn’t escape me, even in the midst of destruction. Theo’s father longed for his son to be his formidable successor. Went to extreme lengths to ensure it happened. And became a victim of the brutality he forced into Theo. The reason for Theo’s handicap is shining like a bright diamond before me, cut and freshly polished. Theo never wanted to be this way. It’s his father’s doing, and a part of me—an unreasonable part, because it has to be unreasonable—can’t help but feel like his father got what he deserved.

  Looking blankly across to the ring, I watch as holy, painful hell is rained all over Trystan. Punishing blows to the face, hard smashes of his body to the floor, and endless kicks to his stomach. And the whole time, there’s a disturbing half smile on Theo’s face. He’s avoided being locked up before now, gotten away with murder. This will end his freedom. All these people watching. He’ll be slammed into jail for life. And I will lose him.

  When Trystan starts coughing up blood, my legs find life, and I run to the edge of the cage, gripping the metal until my knuckles are white, screaming for Theo to stop. He doesn’t need to kill him. He doesn’t need to be locked up for murder. He’s done enough. “Theo!” I scream his name, over and over, ignoring the dryness of my throat.

  He stills, looming over Trystan’s battered body with his fist drawn back, ready to drop another damaging blow. Not that Trystan would feel it now. He’s unconscious, limp and lifeless on the floor. Theo turns around, his eyes wild, and I tighten my grip around the bars, bringing my face as close as I can.

  “Stop,” I beg quietly, though he would never be able to hear above the roaring crowd, so I rely on the pleading in my eyes. “Please.”

  He straightens, looking around at the masses of people in his club, delirious with excitement. Because Theo is in the cage. He’s the ultimate fighter. Undefeated. An animal. Deadly. His big chest swells, sweat pouring from him. And after a few nervous moments, he drops his eyes back down to Trystan, his lip curling. Then he turns and stalks out of the cage, slamming the metal door behind him. A path clears, people jumping out of his way before running to the foot of the enclosure to see just how much damage Theo’s done. I can see from here. Trystan is lying motionless in a pool of blood, not even the sound of the crowd stirring him. But he’s breathing. I push away from the bars and whirl around, searching for Theo. I catch sight of him disappearing through the door toward the office and make urgent tracks, going after him.

  “Izzy, no.” Judy intercepts me, fighting to keep me in place. “Leave him, sweetheart. Let him cool off.”

  “No.” I wrestle her away, escaping just before Andy makes a grab for me. I need to see him. Calm him. I run through the club like a woman possessed, people moving from my path.

  I stumble into the office, my feet skidding to a stop. Theo is on the other side, his forehead resting on the door that will take him back through to his house. I wait, forcing my breathing to quiet. He eventually lifts his head and yanks the door open, steaming through. I’m in quick pursuit. I can’t be certain that he’s even aware I’m here, but it doesn’t stop me. I need to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. Or anything more stupid. He shouldn’t be alone.

  We’re at his private quarters fast, Theo a good ten paces in front of me, and when he pushes his way in, I just catch the door before it shuts in my face. He heads straight for the fireplace, resting his hand on the edge, dropping his head and breathing deeply. He’s trying to calm himself. His back is rippling dangerously, dripping with sweat. I approach with caution, keeping a keen eye on his every move. “Theo,” I reach for his shoulder, instinct guiding me, telling me to comfort him in his
darkness. “Theo, it’s me.” My fingers lightly brush over his burning skin.

  He moves too fast for me to react.

  The impact to my face is explosive. The pain indescribable.

  Though I don’t have to suffer it for long.

  My world goes black.

  Chapter 25

  The pain. Jesus, the pain. My face feels like it’s in flames as I blink, trying to gather my bearings. Fussing hands and panic-stricken voices are a blur of motion and sound while I try to figure out where I am.

  “Izzy, open your eyes.” The voice is stressed, and I try to zoom in on the silhouette of a body bent over me, groaning as I lift my hand to my face, the throbbing getting worse. My eye socket is tender, and I wince. “Leave it.” A hand takes mine and pushes it back to the floor gently. Callum’s face comes into focus, but only in my right eye, horrified lines marring his usual good looks. My neck cracks painfully when I turn my head to establish who else is on the floor with me.

  “Sweetheart.” Judy’s red lipstick has completely worn away, leaving her straight lips stained and lusterless. Her dread-filled eyes flick to my left eye, and she flinches, quickly looking away. “I told you to let him calm down, sweetheart. Why didn’t you leave him to calm down?”

  “Oh, Izzy,” Jess whispers, despairing and shocked.

  I battle through the unbearable pain to try to locate any recollections, my brain hurting with the effort. But once I find the memories, there’s no stopping them from thundering forward, relentlessly reminding me of why I’m on my back on the floor with Judy, Jess, and Callum fussing around me.

  “No.” I shake my head, hissing with the pain. In my darkness, I can see Theo’s back, stalking through the corridors to his apartment. I see his face, riddled with a rage too potent to comprehend. The movements of his body as they made easy work of Trystan in that cage, and the minuscule effort it took for him to inflict so much damage. And then back here, when I tried to calm him. Why did I follow him? Why did I think I could pull him from his destructiveness? The vision of my hand moving slowly toward his shoulder spikes a whimper of despair, my mind screaming for me to stop. How I wish I could go back and stop my stupid self from touching him. And, finally, the top half of his body as it swung around, and his big hand as it collided with my face. It all happened too quickly.

  “I’m sorry,” I sob, curling into a ball, making myself small. “I thought I could help.”

  Soothing hushes sound close to my ear, and I feel the smoothness of Callum’s cheek against mine as he cradles me on his lap, holding me tightly. I can feel his heartbeat against my arm that’s squished against him, his head shaking above mine.

  “Where is he?” I snivel, pushing myself from Callum’s arms. Theo will be devastated. I need to see him. I look around the room, panicked as I try to get to my feet. “I need to find him.”

  Callum helps me up, keeping hold of my arm. I wish I didn’t need the support, but I do. My head starts to spin, and I stagger a few steps back into him, struggling to focus. “Easy,” he breathes, steadying me. “You need to lie down.”

  “I’m fine,” I insist, willing some life into my legs so I can go in search of Theo. I glance up, brushing my hair from my face.

  And I see him.

  He looks shell-shocked, whitewashed, a shadow of a man as he stands across the room in silence looking on. My mouth dries, taking away any chance I have of speaking, of calling to him, so I force my hand up, stretching for him, silently begging for him to come to me. He doesn’t.

  Instead, he starts backing away, his head shaking, his eyes locked on mine. “I did that,” he mumbles mindlessly, his shoulder catching the doorframe and jolting him. But he keeps moving away.

  “Theo,” I call, seeing his intention too clearly.

  “I hurt you.” His eyes widen, like realization keeps dawning, his shocked mind opening up to the horror. “I hurt my love.” His gaze drops, and I wrestle with Callum to free me, but his grip is too firm, too secure.

  “Let go of me!” I scream, seeing Judy move in and stand in front of me, blocking my path to her son. She’s facing me, her hands joining Callum’s and holding me in place. “Stop!” I cry, my eyes bursting with desperate tears. “Please, let me go to him.” The tears roll and through the blur of my vision, I see Theo turn, his back getting farther and farther away. “Please,” I sob, frantically fighting my way out of their holds.

  “Izzy, no!”

  I break free and rush forward, a little disoriented. “Theo, wait.” He stalks on, his pace increasing as he makes his way through his house. “Theo!” I chase after him, my weak, hurting body slowing me, and I yell, willing my limbs to cooperate.

  When I make it back to the club, the space is empty and quiet, everyone gone, and I spot Theo, still shirtless, his torso smeared in blood and sweat. I come to a gradual stop when I register where he’s heading. The cage.

  “No.” I look past the bars, seeing Trystan being helped out of the enclosure by two of Theo’s men. The fact that he’s conscious—alive, even—doesn’t relieve my worry. “Theo,” I yell, and he stops, but he doesn’t turn back. He just stands motionless for a few moments, rolling his shoulders, his head dropped. Then it slowly lifts, and I know he’s found Trystan. He approaches, takes him from the two men, and virtually throws him back into the cage. He doesn’t shut the door behind him this time. Looking up at me, his eyes rooted to my swollen eye, I know what he’s thinking. He blames Trystan for it. He blames himself, but he also blames Trystan. Our eyes meet. I shake my head, silently begging him not to do it. Though, deep down, I know I am begging in vain.

  Theo moves his eyes from mine to his feet, where his prey is sprawled, staring up at him, frightened. And in a lightning-fast move, Theo roars and throws his fist down into Trystan’s throat with so much power, his neck visibly crushes, obliterating his windpipe and his ability to breathe.

  Instant death.

  My body bends at the waist, and I throw up at my feet, choking and heaving uncontrollably. “Izzy.” Arms grab me, Judy pulling me up and into her arms, holding me upright on my shaky legs.

  I look over her shoulder and catch Theo watching me. He’s still. In a trance.

  Then he walks calmly out of the cage, and I know exactly what will happen next. He’s leaving. He’s finished Trystan off to make sure he can’t hurt me again. To make sure that when Theo’s gone, I’m in no danger.

  He strides out of the club, and his back disappears as I slowly crumple in Judy’s arms. I’ve failed. I haven’t fixed him. I’ve ruined him beyond repair, and the reality is all too painful.

  Because he’s gone.

  And I know I will never see him again.

  Chapter 26

  The hours turn into days. The days turn into weeks. Dark and gloomy weeks. Empty weeks. Because Theo’s gone. He left me hurt and broken, though I know my desolation won’t touch the level of misery he will be feeling.

  Wherever he may be.

  Not a minute passes when I don’t think of him. When I don’t wonder where he is. I call his phone every day, hoping today might be the day it rings. Four weeks later and it still hasn’t. Judy and Callum spent the first week of his absence searching everywhere they could think of. His bank accounts and cards showed nothing. Still don’t. Andy did what he could, looked in all the obvious and nonobvious places, and turned up nothing. No missing persons report could be filed. Theo left of his own accord. And Andy quite rightly pointed out that if someone doesn’t want to be found, then they won’t be. If anyone can relate to that, then I can. Each day I’ve become less hopeful. Now I’m barely surviving.

  He killed a man. Battered him to death in that cage. Andy sat me down and asked me if there is anyone who would miss Trystan. How would I know? I haven’t seen him for ten years. If there was anyone in his life now, like me back then, I’m guessing they wouldn’t miss the malevolent arsehole. I don’t know what they did with his body. Or if it will ever be discovered. Not that it matters. You can’t lock
a man up for murder if he can’t be found.

  The only thing keeping me going at the moment is work. I managed to get myself on the nurse bank, and I’ve worked as often as I can, dreading my days off. Today is my day off. I’ve wandered to the nearest coffeehouse and sat in the window, watching the rain fall, the water sliding down the glass, distorting my view. Not that I’m looking. More staring blankly through the obstacles—the people, the buildings, the rain—at nothing.

  When the chair next to me scrapes, a sign of someone pulling it out, I glance up and Judy smiles down at me, nodding at the table. I say nothing, returning my attention to the window, my hand wrapped around my takeout coffee cup where it rests on the table. She sits, sighs, and places her hand on mine.

  “How did you find me?” I ask for the sake of it.

  “Really, Izzy? If you’re not at home, you’re either here or at work.” I look at her, and she shrugs. “And Jess called me.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You are not fine. You’re still not eating properly, you look pale, and I’m pretty sure you’re anemic.” A bottle of iron tablets is placed on the table before me. “I want you to take these.”

  I stare at the bottle, wondering when it became Judy’s job to mother me. Then I inwardly scold myself for having such a hurtful thought. Anyway, it’s not like I have anyone else to do the job. These past four desolate weeks have made me constantly wonder what I did in a previous life to deserve such a rough time.

  I take the pills and slip them into my bag, hopefully pacifying her. I’m not anemic. I’m grieving. “Thank you,” I murmur, turning back to the window.

  “Oh, Izzy.” She sighs. “Sweetheart.”

  “What?” I ask. “Are you going to tell me to move on? To forget about him?”

  “I—”

  “Are you going to?”

  Total despair invades her smooth features. “I don’t know what to say anymore.”

  I push my chair away and stand, swiping up my coffee, needing to escape before I burden her with more tears. But they come too fast, streaming down my face relentlessly, prompting Judy to shoot up from her chair and embrace me. “I’m sorry,” I whimper pitifully into the expensive threads of her suit jacket. She must be sick of the sight of me, but she still insists on keeping our contact. I’m an emotional drain to her, a broken waif. Why is she insisting on burdening herself with me?