Tell me to Fight
Charlotte Byrd
Contents
About Tell me to Fight Book 5
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Also by Charlotte Byrd
1. Nicholas
2. Nicholas
3. Nicholas
4. Olive
5. Olive
6. Olive
7. Olive
8. Olive
9. Olive
10. Olive
11. Olive
12. Olive
13. Olive
14. Olive
15. Olive
16. Olive
17. Olive
18. Olive
19. Olive
20. Nicholas
21. Nicholas
22. Nicholas
23. Nicholas
24. Nicholas
25. Nicholas
26. Olive
27. Olive
28. Olive
29. Olive
30. Olive
31. Olive
32. Olive
33. Olive
34. Olive
35. Nicholas
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Also by Charlotte Byrd
About Charlotte Byrd
Copyright © 2019 by Charlotte Byrd, LLC.
All rights reserved.
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Cover Design: Charlotte Byrd
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This book is a word of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status 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.
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Identifiers
ISBN (e-book): 978-1-63225-062-9
ISBN (paperback): 978-1-63225-063-6
ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-63225-064-3
ISBN (audio): 978-1-63225-077-3
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About Tell me to Fight Book 5
I’m a man who takes what he wants.
What do I want? Her.
Olive Kernes owned me a debt and she thought that she had paid it back.
But now I want more.
I want more than just her time.
I want more than just her body.
Her new life has torn us apart.
Now, it’s up to me to make things right.
I will make the pieces of our love fit back together if it’s the last thing I do.
But can I do it in time?
Dive into the dangerous 5th book of the new and addictive TELL ME series by bestselling author Charlotte Byrd.
Praise for Charlotte Byrd
“Extremely captivating, sexy, steamy, intriguing, and intense!” ★★★★★
“Addictive and impossible to put down.” ★★★★★
“I can’t get enough of the turmoil, lust, love, drama, and secrets!” ★★★★★
“Fast-paced romantic suspense filled with twists and turns, danger, betrayal, and so much more.” ★★★★★
“Decadent, delicious, & dangerously addictive!” - Amazon Review ★★★★★
“Titillation so masterfully woven, no reader can resist its pull. A MUST-BUY!” - Bobbi Koe, Amazon Review ★★★★★
“Captivating!” - Crystal Jones, Amazon Review ★★★★★
“Sexy, secretive, pulsating chemistry…” - Mrs. K, Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★
“Charlotte Byrd is a brilliant writer. I've read loads and I've laughed and cried. She writes a balanced book with brilliant characters. Well done!” -Amazon Review ★★★★★
“Hot, steamy, and a great storyline.” - Christine Reese ★★★★★
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“ Intrigue, lust, and great characters...what more could you ask for?!” - Dragonfly Lady ★★★★★
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Tell me Series
Tell Me to Stop
Tell Me to Go
Tell Me to Stay
Tell Me to Run
Tell Me to Fight
Tell Me to Lie
Tangled Series
Tangled up in Ice
Tangled up in Pain
Tangled up in Lace
Tangled up in Hate
Tangled up in Love
Black Series
Black Edge
Black Rules
Black Bounds
Black Contract
Black Limit
Lavish Trilogy
Lavish Lies
Lavish Betrayal
Lavish Obsession
Standalone Novels
Debt
Offer
Unknown
Dressing Mr. Dalton
1
Nicholas
Where the turquoise waters are warm…
Here, the wind that comes off the ocean is warm and unoffensive. Instead of smacking you right in the face like it does in Massachusetts, it softly lures you into a state of utter relaxation.
Following the island’s strict dress code of a t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops, I walk the mile from my place to my favorite bar. I bury my feet in the cold fine sand underneath the table even before the bartender has the chance to take my order.
It’s Wednesday evening, but days of the week don’t have much meaning here. Each seat is filled with visitors from all over the English-speaking world. Some are only here for a week while others are here indefinitely. They are all here for different reasons except that they’re not. They have put their old lives on hold to try something new.
I order a Belekin, a local light beer that only tastes good out in the salty air, and nod to Sammy and Greta out on the other side of the room. They are Swedish tourists in their late twenties who speak English without a hint of an accent.
I first spent the night with Sammy after we met dancing at the Lazy Lizard late one night. The following day, she introduced me to Greta and took up with a local. We spent the day sunbathing and swimming and then ended up back in my bed before sunrise.
I’ve been here long enough to know what the locals already know. One of the reasons single women come to this island is that it’s a safe place to hook up with guys.
The men are friendly and with a population of around two thousand people, the place is about the size of a high school back home. Everyone knows everyone or at least almost everyone.
Perhaps I should’ve gone somewhere bigger, somewhere I could disappear a little easier but I’m not too worried.
I have a new name and a new identity. I’d been here once for a few days a long time ago and soon after Olive and I broke up this was the first place that came to mind.
Olive.
No matter how many drinks I have or how many women I sleep with, my mind keeps coming back to her.
The way Greta twists her hair around her finger is the exact same way that Olive used to do it.
The way that Sammy’s eyes twinkle in the moonlight.
The way that Greta laughs.
The way that Sammy shuffles her feet.
The way that the girl down the street whose name I don’t know shrugs her shoulders.
I see her everywhere I go.
She is like a ghost who haunts me.
“I’ll take another, please,” I say to Imogen, the bartender.
Imogen came here for a week from Vancouver, Canada, and never left.
She just cancelled the rest of her ticket, got a longer stay rental, and has been here for over six months.
To pay the rent, she tends bar at night and works as a dive instructor during the day.
She’s nice and sweet and, surprisingly, impervious to my advances.
“When is Paul coming out?” I ask.
“In two days,” she says with her face lighting up at the sound of her boyfriend’s name.
“You think you’ll be able to get him to stay?” I ask.
I know she wants him to, and I also know that he has his reservations.
“I hope so,” Imogen says, making three drinks at once.
Paul is a computer engineer and there aren’t many jobs in his field around here.
According to her, this is the biggest obstacle in their relationship.
She wants to stay here indefinitely and he wants to live the normal life they had back in Vancouver. Their situation is the perfect example of irreconcilable differences but I don’t have the heart to tell her that it’s probably not going to work out.
“I hope so, too,” I say, finishing the second beer.
Due to the plethora of British expats, soccer tends to dominate the screens and today is no exception.
After ordering another beer, I make my way in between the tables toward the bathroom.
My eyes drift over the room and at the second television near the window. That’s when I see it.
It’s a picture of me with my real name and the word Wanted on the top.
My heart jumps into my chest, but I keep walking.
Right before I disappear behind the corner, I see Art Hedison giving an interview.
I rush into the bathroom and find an empty stall. Locking the door, I try to figure out what to do.
“What the fuck is going on?” I whisper under my breath.
No, no, no, no. This isn’t happening.
I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down and then exit the room.
I already ordered a beer and I still need to pay my tab so I can’t just walk out without drawing even more attention to myself.
“Hey, do you mind if I change the channel?” I ask the group of couples doing shots underneath the TV with my face on it.
None of them are watching it and I already have my finger on the remote when a tall guy nearby gives me a brief nod of approval.
I flip it to another soccer game, knowing that at least one patron will object if anyone were to change it in the future.
When I get to the bar, I give the beer that has been waiting for me to the girl who takes a seat to my right. Normally, I would make small talk and try to get her to come home with me but not tonight.
“See you later, Imogen!” I yell, leaving her a generous tip.
“You leaving already?” She calls back to me when I’m already near the front door.
“Something came up.” I shrug casually and leave.
2
Nicholas
When I try to figure out my next move…
Walking back to my cabin, I revel in the way the breeze kisses my skin ever so lightly. This is the last time that I will feel this in a very long time. There are other islands I can go to, but none of them will be Caye Caulker, Belize.
My flip-flops make a loud smacking sound as they hit the back of my heels. There are no roads here, not any official ones anyway.
No cars either.
People get around mainly on foot or by bike and the occasional golf cart. This place exists somewhere between the past and the present.
The internet is fast but the pace of the world is slow. There isn’t much to do but swim, snorkel, dive, fish, read, eat, talk, and drink. Isn’t that kind of perfect, though?
That’s exactly why I came here. I need to get away from everything.
I thought I could leave the bad out there, somewhere back in Boston but now it has followed me here.
Now, the asshole who I helped and who made promises to me is now on television talking about how dangerous I am.
This is my way out I think, gritting my teeth as regret and anger bubble up within me.
“Hey there, stranger,” Ali, the French expat, says as I walk past her apartment and head toward mine.
We haven’t hooked up because she has been out of town the majority of the time that I’ve been here. That and I’ve also had some reservations about sleeping with someone who lives so close to me.
“You want to come over for a bottle of wine?” she asks.
“Maybe some other time,” I say, giving her a brief wave.
Back inside my one bedroom cabin with minimal furnishings, not as a result of any particular decorating intention, I turn on the television and start to pack.
I can’t find the program that was on at the bar so I Google my name.
The first thing to show up are the videos.
I am the focus of at least three different national programs and Art is interviewed by the hosts of each one.
“What a fuckin’ asshole,” I say, shaking my head and grabbing the suitcase out of the closet.
I fold just a few shirts and pants along with my one pair of loafers and toss in my toiletries. In the bottom cupboard right next to the sink, I pull out an envelope with all of my passports. Thanks to a contact from back home, I have a number of them, but I’m not entirely sure which one I should use.
“Don’t forget, he is charming but very dangerous.” I hear Art say in the background. “He is the main suspect responsible for killing his ex-partner—”
I close the video.
I’ve had enough of his ugly face and his ugly lies.
Why is he doing this to me? I wonder. Now?
I shake my head and let out a small laugh. It’s not a big mystery, though. They must have gotten something on him and this was his way out.
It’s either that or he’s just doing this to screw me, I decide, letting out a deep sigh.
“Well, fuck you, Art, I’m not going down that easily.”
I grab my suitcase and take one last look around the place. I will miss it here.
I hope that when all of this blows over, I can come back. This isn’t going to be the last time I’m here.
The golf cart masquerading as a cab meets me outside my door and takes me to the ferry terminal where I get onto the last boat going to Belize City.
The waters are choppy and I bounce around the plastic seat below deck the whole way there. Half an hour later, when I get onto solid ground, I feel sick to my stomach but I’m not sure if the bumpy boat ride is the sole culprit.
I’m tempted to get a hotel in town and get some rest but I decide against it. This country is English-speaking and the majority of the television programs are piped in directly from the United States.
No, it’s much better for me to get into Mexico as soon as possible. Mexico is a huge country where it’s much easier to get lost than in Belize.
I take an actual cab to the bus terminal and buy a ticket to Merida, Mexico. Twenty minutes later, I climb onto the pristine ADO express bus along with all of the other passengers and put on a sweats
hirt as soon as I take a seat. I stare out of the window, wondering how I can’t see my breath in this extremely air-conditioned vehicle. After everyone’s bags are stowed and locked away underneath, we take off.
I have cell reception for a little bit of the way, enough to find out that I have become quite a crime celebrity. Everyone is suddenly consumed with the case of what happened to my partner and there are a number of podcasts devoted to his missing persons case.
This is unusual given that most of these shows focus on missing attractive blonde women in their twenties who disappear under unusual circumstances. My partner’s case is neither unusual nor suspicious.
He worked for the mob. He stole jewelry and other expensive products. When he started to work for himself, the mob got angry and decided to take him out. It’s a story as old as time and yet thanks to Art now suddenly everyone is concerned and everyone thinks I did it.
My reception goes away just as the roads go from bumpy to practically impassable. I turn on an audiobook and stare out of the window into the Belizian jungle. Besides the bus’s headlights, there are no lights illuminating the road. I close my eyes and try to relax.
Tell me to Fight Page 1