British Bad Boys: Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  Too late now, mine said.

  I ignored the flush that started taking up most of my father’s burly neck, easing up to his face.

  I sighed. “I got my half of the inheritance from the barrister that handled Mum’s estate. Law school isn’t going to happen. I know it’s what you had planned, but fighting—training people—it’s what I want to do. Someday I might want my own shot at a UFC championship.”

  Tension ramped up the room.

  Clara fluttered around him. “Now, Winston, don’t get upset. Here, let me get you another Scotch.”

  His gray eyes bored into me. “You wasted your inheritance on a sweaty gym for white trash karate wannabes?”

  I stiffened. “We have all kinds who come in to take classes. Blacks, Hispanics, a few Muslims—”

  He slapped his palm down on his armchair. “Don’t get smart with me, Declan. You will apply for law school at Harvard like you should.”

  I set my cup down. “It’s done. You can’t get money back that I’ve already spent.”

  “No son of mine is going to toss away a first class education and a high IQ to be a common laborer.”

  I let out a resigned sigh and poked Blythe in the side, making her giggle. “You better go see your mum. It’s time for me to go.”

  As usual, I’d made him angry. I just couldn’t be what he wanted.

  I was never good enough just the way I was.

  * * *

  An hour later I was at my gym.

  Built in the late seventies, it had been constructed in the historic part of town that was being revitalized. Several of the neighboring homes had been re-modeled and upgraded with young and hip families moving in.

  No matter what my father said, the gym was a good investment.

  Anybody can pop up a gym and say its MMA qualified, and it didn’t mean shit, but Front Street Gym would have real credentials. Max was one of my trainers, and although he’d got his start in traditional martial arts, he’d transitioned over to Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, Muay Thai, and Krav Maga in his later years.

  As for me, my mum had put me in classes starting at four. I held a black belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, and a blue belt in Judo.

  Max had taught me everything else I knew.

  I unlocked the double metal doors and stepped inside, my eyes taking in the updates the contractor had been working on for the past week, installing new plumbing in the restrooms and lockers, revamping the front office. The final step would be putting in a flat for me to live in. I was bleeding money to get this place opened—literally. I imagined Front Street with every punch and strike I took, knowing that in a few months this place would be open and running and I’d finally be free of my father.

  I bent down and rubbed my hands across the new red sparring mats that had been delivered last week. Some of the new workout machinery had been installed as well, and I checked out everything carefully. I made the rounds of the building, checking the windows, outside doors, and smoke detectors. Paranoia ran high when I was this close to tasting happiness. And I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was as if something was waiting out there in the darkness, panting its nasty breath, waiting for the right opportunity to yank away my slice of good.

  9

  Two days after the party, I drove a few miles down the road to meet my mom at a truck stop off the interstate.

  I hadn’t seen her in nearly four months, and we only lived three hours apart.

  The diner smelled like old grease and deep-fried onion rings, reminding me of my childhood when my mom would bring home takeout from the restaurant where she waited tables.

  She waved at me from a red booth at the back.

  I walked her way, feeling anxious.

  Some people think God puts difficult people in our lives for a reason, to make us better people as we sharpen ourselves on the knife of their shortcomings. That was my mom. She’d destroyed my trust a million times as a child, and eventually I’d learned to stop counting on her. My kindergarten graduation, my first middle school dance, the day I got my acceptance letter to Oakmont Prep, the night with Colby … she’d been gone, off on an adventure with whomever she was seeing. Like a stray dog that whines for scraps, I’d been begging my mom to love me my whole life.

  Yet out of my shitty childhood, a strong drive had been forged in my heart.

  To be more.

  More than the trailer I’d grown up in; more than my alcoholic mother and absent father.

  Today she’d put extra effort in, hot-rolling her natural blond hair in big waves and pulling it back with a bejeweled butterfly clip. She wore a pink gingham sundress and her lips were painted a glossy pink. At thirty-nine, she still managed to look farm fresh.

  She jumped up to greet me, a bright smile on her face.

  “You’re too skinny,” I commented as she gathered me up in a hug, my hands feeling the bones of her spine poking through.

  We pulled back, and I studied her face more closely, taking in the hollowed neckline. A tingle of foreboding went over me. It had been a year since her last rehab for alcohol and drugs, and I’d held out hope she’d last longer this time. “You clean?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Elizabeth, I’m fine. Right as rain.” She laughed at my frown. “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

  We sat down together.

  Her eyes gleamed with a happiness I hadn’t seen in a long time. “I can’t wait for you to meet my new boyfriend, Elizabeth. He’s in the restroom right now, but he’s got real class and is the sexiest man I’ve ever dated.” She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know I’ve said that before, but I mean it this time.” She squirmed in the booth, excitement written on her face. “He’s even going to take me on a one of those cruises to Mexico soon.”

  “Fun.” I smiled through my disappointment. I’d thought it would just be us today. “Is he employed?”

  She nodded. “And he has dental. What else could I ask for?”

  “A washing machine maybe, or I don’t know, a home to live in?”

  She’d sold her trailer a year ago and had been bouncing back and forth between boyfriends’ and friends’ houses.

  An older man sauntered out of the restroom area in a flowery print Tommy Bahama–type shirt unbuttoned a quarter of the way down, wiry chest hairs poking out like crazy. He was so abundantly hairy I wouldn’t have been surprised if a small monkey lived inside his shirt and was reaching up to say hi.

  Balding but hiding it with a greasy combover, he walked toward us, his eyes raking over me, lingering. Long muttonchops came down each side of his face.

  My whole body went on high creep alert.

  He stopped at our table and his eyes bounced back to my mother. “Yo, baby, you didn’t say she was a looker like her mama. Guess I hit the jackpot today. Now, who do I sit next to?” He let out a belly laugh.

  I stiffened.

  But this is your mother, I told myself. Be respectful. Give her a chance.

  She laughed and blushed. “Stop flirting and sit down and meet my daughter.”

  He slid in next to her, and my eyes went back and forth between them.

  I’d seen a myriad of men come in and out of our trailer growing up. A few had been decent to me, but she’d never wanted those. Nope. Most had been grade-A assholes, and she’d loved them the most. In my teens—and after a particularly bad episode where I’d found a hidden video camera in my bedroom—I’d managed to avoid a lot of them by staying at Shelley’s most nights.

  “Didn’t know you were bringing your boyfriend,” I said, not able to hold back.

  “Now don’t be that way, Elizabeth. This is Karl.” She preened at me expectantly. “He owns a used car dealership in Rockport and even gave me a new Impala for my birthday.” She pointed out to the parking lot. “Look, there it is. It’s even got leather interior.”

  “Hmm.” I was still reserving judgment.

  “Hell yeah, I did, ’cause this hot piece sure does know how to treat a man righ
t.” Sure was shore and right was riiaght, the county twang heavily pronounced, his words elongated.

  He leaned in and they kissed each other with visible tongue.

  “Nice,” I muttered.

  The waitress showed up to take my order, and they separated, Mom straightening her blouse and Karl wiping his mouth and leering at me.

  He placed hairy arms on the table. “So you one of those smart girls? I heard you got yourself a scholarship to Whitman with a free ride?”

  I nodded. Warily. “Yes, but I get financial aid to pay for living expenses. I work too,” I added.

  “Good for you, but these are bad economic times we’re living in. Gotta make a buck where you can.” He took a sip of coffee, eyes skating over me. “Maybe you need to get yourself a sugar daddy like your mama here.”

  “I’m fine just the way I am, thank you.” My fists clenched under the table.

  It was decided. Karl fell in the asshole category.

  They had ordered before I came, and I watched him chew his eggs nosily, wiping his mouth on a napkin as he finished. “Well, if you ever need anything—like a new car or a loan, I can take care of ya. Any girl as pretty as you who’s related to the love of my life, well, I wanna do good by. Maybe adopt you after I marry your mama.” He nodded emphatically as if I had no other option but to agree.

  My eyes flared. “You’re getting married?”

  She shrugged, her thin shoulders making me wince.

  I looked only at her. “You think that’s a good idea?”

  Karl stiffened. “Of course it is. That’s what you do when you fall in love.”

  The waitress finally set down a coffee for me, and I busied myself drinking it.

  How long did I have to stay here?

  I powered on. “So how did you guys meet?”

  Mom leaned in over the table, eyes glowing. “It was fate, Elizabeth. I was at Club Raven, you know the one out on Highway 89 where all the locals go?”

  I nodded. It was her favorite honky-tonk.

  “So in walks this big hunk of a man here and from out of nowhere, someone played Journey’s ‘Faithfully’ on the jukebox and bam! His eyes met mine and when he came over to ask me to dance, I nearly fell off the barstool. He bought me a slew of drinks and we laughed and played pool all night.” She sighed, hooking her arm through his as she gazed into his eyes. “It was love at first sight.”

  “What an epic romance. Sounds like a movie … maybe even a country song.”

  I didn’t say a good movie, but I really did try to keep the sarcasm out of my tone.

  Karl took a sip of coffee. “So, your mama and I have been talking about how to get some real cash, you know, to start our marriage off right, maybe buy us a big house and later expand my car dealership.”

  “Yeah?” I didn’t see how this related to me.

  He cleared his throat. “So we thought you might help us.”

  “Me?” I was dirt poor.

  “Yeah, she told me about you and Senator Scott’s son back in high school. How he took advantage of your good nature and all. And well, one thing led to another and we came up with a plan.”

  The entire room spun and I wanted to vomit. I heaved in deep breaths and clutched the table, fighting the panic. Why had she told him?

  She shushed him by flapping her hands at his shoulders. “I told you to let me bring that up. She’s sensitive.”

  I wanted to crawl under the table. “What gives you the right to discuss my personal life?” My voice was sharp, my wrists itching.

  She pouted. “Baby, it’s water under the bridge now, right? In the past. You’re over him. Why look at you. You’re a big time college girl now. You’ve left all that behind.”

  Left it behind?

  He’d ripped my heart out and sent it through a wood chipper.

  I’d never be over that night.

  “You can’t let him get away with it,” Mom insisted. “Something should be done about what happened to you.”

  What?

  I shook my head. Emphatically. My nails dug into the seat, trying to hold it together in a public place when what I really wanted to do was run away screaming. I didn’t want to think, talk, look at, or dwell on Colby Scott ever again.

  “What does this all have to do with me?”

  Mom lowered her voice. “In case you didn’t know, it’s an election year for Senator Scott.”

  Karl leaned in. “So, if we play this right, we can all come out ahead.” A glint grew in his eyes. “We just tell your story to dear old dad and claim we have evidence against his son. He’ll give us money to shut up about it, and we’ll all be richer.”

  They wanted to blackmail the Scotts.

  They wanted to dredge up the past and air it all out for everyone to see.

  They wanted everyone to be reminded of what a slut I was.

  Never.

  “You deserve retribution. Don’t you want to make him pay?” Mom said.

  Make him pay? A strangled laugh came out.

  Revenge is hard when the person I blamed the most was myself.

  Revenge is even harder when the person you despise is at the top of the food chain and you’re a bottom feeder.

  “No, I don’t,” I snapped louder than I’d intended, causing a nearby table to glance our way.

  I didn’t care.

  I slapped my hand on the table. “The Scott family has run Petal and this state for generations. They control the police, judges, everyone. You can’t do this. It’s the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard, and I refuse to help you.”

  A few beats of silence went by.

  Karl held his hands up. “It was just an idea. That’s all. If you say no, then I guess we don’t have a leg to stand on. We can’t exactly say we know what happened when you aren’t willing to tell your side of the story.”

  “Never in a million years. Don’t ever bring it up to me again. Got it?” I felt the muscles in my jaw clenching.

  Mom let out a brittle laugh. “Let’s have some pie. Okay? That will make it better.”

  Karl just stared at me. I stared back.

  I jerked up from the table and looked at Mom. “I’m done. I came here hoping, I don’t know, that we could be a real mother and daughter for once—but I guess not.” I opened my purse, pulled out a ten, and dropped it on the table. “This is for mine. I trust you can get your own?”

  Her lips compressed. “Elizabeth Nicole Bennett, you will not walk away from me. I gave birth to you and I deserve some respect. So does Karl. He drove me here to see you.”

  I shook my head, feeling the last vestiges of my control slipping away as my voice grew louder. “You don’t get it, Mom. You weren’t even there the day I came home from the hotel. You were in Vegas. You didn’t see how broken I was.”

  She paled. “I got there as soon as I could, baby girl. I was trying to get a dancer’s job, to get ahead and make a better life for us both. You know I could have been great if I hadn’t gotten pregnant and then your dad …” Her voice broke.

  I turned to go, but she grabbed my wrist. “Wait, don’t be mad at me, Elizabeth, for trying to make us a better life. Just think about what we said … okay?”

  No!

  I pulled away from her and pivoted, my nose crashing into a warm chest.

  Strong hands clasped my shoulders, and I tilted my head up, up … straight into a pair of stormy gray eyes.

  10

  Cookie’s Kitchen was a dump but homey. It was mostly a stopping place for truckers off the interstate, but it was where Max liked to meet and talk shop, mostly about the underground fighting.

  We strolled in the double glass doors.

  Arlene sashayed over to us in a pink waitress outfit with a white apron. “My Brits are back,” she said with a smile. “Been missin’ you boys.” She nudged her head toward the back. “Max’s next to the window. He’s waitin’ for ya.”

  “Thanks, love,” Dax said as he swooped down and picked her up in a bear hug and kissed her o
n the cheek. She blushed and popped him with a dishrag.

  He watched the sashay of her hips back into the kitchen. “There’s not a woman alive who doesn’t want me. I think I’m going to change my name to Sex Lord.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, that’s a real turn on.”

  “Jealous?” he asked.

  “Extremely.”

  He grinned. “Don’t be. Not everyone can be as wonderful as me. You got your fists, I got my sexing abilities—which in my opinion is a hell of a lot better. Make love not war, bro.”

  “That so?” I chuckled.

  Max caught my eye and waved us over. He was in his late forties with thinning hair and a trim physique, and I’d met him at one of the local gyms where we’d both taught classes. Over the past three years, we’d grown close, and hiring him to work at my own place had been the next natural step.

  We ordered and talked about the gym and the updates. If all went well with the renovations, then Front Street would be ready for business by January. We’d have a soft opening at first and then a grand opening party in February. The flat at the back would be finished a bit later, perhaps in June, since my first priority was to get the doors open for business.

  “What’s new with Nick? You got anything?” I asked a bit later. Nick was the guy who ran the underground fights in North Carolina.

  “Yeah. I’ve got some small fights lined up in the next few weeks for you, but Nick wants to schedule a big one for Halloween. He’s got a warehouse lined up as the venue with heavy spenders coming, not just college kids.” He slapped down a portfolio and then slid it over to me with two fingers. “Don’t be afraid to say no.”

  Dax shifted in closer, peering down to take in the photos of a blond behemoth posing next to a makeshift octagon. “Bugger.”

  Max rubbed his whiskers. “They call him Yeti. He played linebacker for UNC Charlotte but got kicked off for hazing freshmen players. Third strike.”

  “Nice lad,” Dax murmured.

  I studied him analytically. “It takes more than bulk to beat me. He needs skill. What’s his record?”