Royally Screwed: A British Bad Boy Romance

by Jessica Ashe

  “He had a son?” I’d assumed the man was a teenager like Elliot had been when he’d gone to prison.

  “A wife and two sons,” Elliot said. “He beat them all, but the wife got the worst of it. The older son also got beaten, but the younger one avoided the worst of it.”

  “Let me guess, this guy avoided the face, so no one was any the wiser?”

  Elliot shook his head. “He wasn’t so discerning. She regularly had black eyes, but she wouldn’t press charges. Worried about the kids I suppose.”

  “Whatever you did to him, it sounds like he had it coming.”

  What had he said? I’ve done it before.

  Had he really killed the man? Even seeing him fight—even seeing the anger in his eyes when he thought about Tyler Young—I had a hard time believing he was capable of killing anyone.

  “He deserved it,” Elliot said.

  “Did you… did you kill him?”

  Elliot took a sip of his drink, before nodding his head in reply. “Self-defense,” he said, “but yeah, I killed him.”

  “Self-defense? That why you didn’t spend long in prison?”

  “Yeah. I got off after an appeal.”

  “In that case, you’re innocent,” I said.

  I knew it wasn’t as simple as all that, but it was to me. I wasn’t about to run from a man who’d killed to protect himself and others. I’d had female patients who’d been beaten to within an inch of their lives by men who supposedly loved them.

  Nothing I said could convince them to report those men to the police. They were too scared; either for themselves or their children. Sometimes they thought he would change. Those cases were the saddest of them all.

  “I’m still coming with you,” I said. “This doesn’t change anything.”

  “I haven’t told you the whole story yet.”

  “I don’t care,” I said firmly. “I’m sticking with you.”

  “The man I killed… he was my father.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Elliot

  “I still can’t believe you’re here,” I said, as I kissed Alison on the cheek.

  The last few days had been incredible. Paris had a reputation as a city of romance, but I’d forever think of London in that way now.

  There’d been some awkwardness initially, but everything changed the night we got drenched on our way back from dinner with Percy. Alison came up to my room, and I helped her out of her wet clothes. I always had been a gentleman at heart.

  After that, I forgot about training, I forgot about the fight, and I forgot about Tyler. Well, I forgot about killing him at least. I still planned to kick his ass in the ring.

  Killing him was a step too far. I wanted to do it, but that was selfish. I’d end up in prison, and Alison would blame herself. I couldn’t let her torture herself like that.

  “I can’t believe I’m here either,” Alison replied. “I’ve always wanted to go to London.”

  “Well so far, the only sights you’ve seen have been the ceiling in my hotel room.” I squeezed her ass and pulled her in towards me to nuzzle my face between her breasts. Did we have time for one more—

  “You need to get changed,” Alison said. “You do realize the fight starts in thirty minutes? You know, the biggest fight of your life?”

  “Oh, that one. Yeah, I remember.”

  I’d never gone into a fight feeling like this before. I was used to feeling confident, but happy? That was new. I didn’t worry about it. I knew the second I saw Tyler Young, all my rage would come flooding back. I could still remember every word of Alison’s diary entry about him.

  Yeah, lack of aggression wasn’t going to be a problem tonight.

  This is what I’d felt like the night I killed my father. I told Alison all about it. How he’d come home drunker than usual, and had started laying into Mom immediately. How I’d grabbed a knife and forced him to confront me face-to-face before sliding it between his ribs.

  Even after all that, Alison had stayed by my side. We were closer than ever.

  “Do I get a sponge bath after the fight?” I asked.

  “No. You get an ice bath.”

  “You’re supposed to incentivize me.”

  “Sorry, but I can’t hang around to give you a bath after the fight.”

  “Why not? You got somewhere more important to be?”

  “Yes, actually,” Alison replied. “After the fight, I intend to go back to our hotel and wait for you to finish talking about your victory. When you’re finally done with all that, you can come back and see what I bought on Oxford Street this afternoon when you were talking to Percy.”

  “You should have brought the purchases with you,” I replied.

  “I did,” she said, as she pulled down the waistband of her skirt to reveal the thin black lace of her panties.”

  “Oh shit,” I muttered. “It’s going to be the shortest press conference ever.”

  “Good, because I also bought some toys, and if you take too long, I may have to get started on my own.”

  “Remind me to let you go shopping on your own more often.”

  Alison smiled, bent over, and kissed me on the cheek. “I’m going to go get set up by the cage. Good luck.”

  When Alison walked out, I heard the roar of the crowd chanting my name. For once, the crowd wanted me to win. I was still the underdog, but that suited me down to the ground.

  The door shut and then opened again soon after. I looked up expecting to see Alison, but instead saw some staff from the O2 Arena carrying drink bottles.

  “Your manager said to bring a few back here for you to drink before the fight,” the guy said, as he threw me a bottle and placed the rest down on the bench.

  “I didn’t know they sold Gatorade in the UK,” I said as I examined the bottle.

  “Must be imported,” the guy replied with a shrug.

  I couldn’t stand the stuff, but I was used to drinking and eating a lot worse. When a food or drink company sponsored a fight, you ate or drank the product. Small details like being FDA approved didn’t seem to matter.

  In some of my past fights, the drinks had probably done more harm to my body than the opponent.

  “You place a bet on the fight?” I asked.

  “Yep,” the man replied. “Bet on you of course.”

  “Good man. Sensible money’s on Tyler Young though.”

  “I know, but I’ve got to follow my heart. No matter the odds, I always bet on Britain in sport. Football, cricket, you name it.”

  “You must be a poor man,” I joked. “Where’re you from? That’s a weird accent.”

  “Nowhere in particular. My parents moved around a lot when I was young. Anyway, I’d better be going. You’ll be summoned in a few minutes. Good luck.”

  He did have an unusual accent. It was like a cross between upper class, and West Country, with a dash of Cockney thrown in. The guy must have lived an eventful childhood.

  No one had a childhood quite like mine though. A father who beat me almost as regularly as he beat my mother. A father I’d grown up despising so much I’d learn to fight so that I could hold my own.

  A father I’d killed.

  I didn’t regret it, although it had torn the family apart. Mom hadn’t been able to look me in the eye, and my relationship with my brother was fractured at best. We were civil to each other, but he hadn’t seen the worst of Dad. He’d not been beaten as much as Mom and I. He hadn’t hated Dad with the passion I had.

  I’d hoped to go through the rest of my life never feeling that hatred again. But then there was Tyler. I hadn’t liked him much even before I found out about what he’d done to Alison, but that had been more like a sporting rivalry. I hadn’t wanted to kill him.

  Now I wanted him dead, but I didn’t know if I could go through with it. Not for lack of courage, or willpower, but because of Alison. She was the reason I wanted to kill him, but she was also the reason I couldn’t. What was the point of getting revenge if I lost her in the p
rocess?

  The door opened and Percy stuck his head. “Time to go, champ. Your fans await.”

  I opened the bottle and drank back half the Gatorade before throwing it on the floor. I wouldn’t need ‘electrolytes’ or whatever other garbage they claimed was in there.

  I had something to fight for. Someone to fight for. That would get me through.

  Tyler Young was going down.

  Chapter Thirty

  Alison

  Tyler Young came out first. Ninety percent of the crowd booed him loudly, but he didn’t seem to care.

  He’d walked right past me on his way to the cage, but there hadn’t been a hint of recognition in his eyes. He’d nearly destroyed my life, and he probably didn’t even remember me.

  He’d been so coked up at the time, it was amazing he wasn’t completely brain dead. Not that the drugs could excuse what he’d done to me. Drugs helped you make bad decisions, but taking them in the first place had been his choice.

  Whereas Elliot only had Percy and I on his team, Tyler had two assistants, three coaches, and someone whose only job seemed to be holding towels.

  It pained me to see such a prick enjoying the trappings of wealth. He caught me scowling at him and smiled. I looked away, but it was too late. He walked around the cage until he was standing right in front of me. Even with a fence between us, I still felt intimidated by him.

  He wouldn’t do anything in front of the television cameras. Would he?

  “I didn’t know Elliot had cheerleaders,” Tyler said, with a snide grin.

  “I’m his doctor,” I replied.

  “Damn. You’re a lot prettier than my one.”

  Tyler looked over his shoulder in the direction of a man I recognized from the MGM Grand. It was Bret. The doctor who’d spent the afternoon showing off, and then hitting on me.

  “We shouldn’t be talking,” I said. Elliot would be out any second. He’d lose it if he saw Tyler talking to me.

  “There’s something familiar about you,” Tyler said, as he examined me quizzically. “Where do I know you from?”

  “We’ve never met,” I said sternly.

  “You’re that doctor.” He laughed heartily. “You’re the one who stabbed me in the arm with a needle.”

  “And you’re the patient who tried to rape me when he was out of his mind on coke.”

  I expected to invoke a reaction, but I got nothing. No anger, no regret. No fear of being overheard. He didn’t care.

  “My complaint get you fired?”

  “No, I quit. Didn’t want to deal with people like you.”

  “And yet here you are.”

  “Don’t you have a fight to prepare for?” I asked.

  Tyler shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve done all the preparation I need.”

  For a split second, he glanced over his right shoulder towards one of his coaches and then looked back at me. When I stared over in that direction, Tyler got in my way and refused to move.

  “You said I tried to rape you,” Tyler said casually.

  “Yes,” I said through gritted teeth. I didn’t think for a second he was going to apologize, and it wouldn’t have made any difference if he had. It was far too late for all that.

  “So we never actually fucked?” Tyler asked.

  “No, I shoved the needle in your arm.”

  “That wasn’t very nice.”

  “I wish I’d hit another organ.”

  “How about after the fight we finish what we started?”

  “You want to finish raping me?” I asked incredulously.

  “It could be voluntary. I assure you, I’m a lot better than Elliot. You’re about to see that for yourself.”

  Tyler took another look over at his coach, who gave him a quick nod.

  “Never mind,” Tyler said. “I don’t really go for the frigid types. Enjoy watching your boyfriend get his face kicked in.”

  To think I had asked Elliot not to kill this man. I might be a doctor, but I could be a damn idiot sometimes as well.

  The music soon started up and Elliot came out to the roar of twelve thousand in the crowd. I didn’t care about Tyler Young any more. Elliot would see that he got what was coming to him. And even if the worst happened, I still didn’t care.

  There’d always be people like Tyler out there. Fortunately there were also people like Elliot.

  * * *

  “Not got any tips for me this time?” Elliot asked during a break between rounds.

  “No, just keep doing what you’re doing I guess. But a bit better.”

  Elliot was losing. You didn’t need to be an expert in MMA to figure that out. He’d had the upper hand at the beginning, but then Tyler got back into it, and now Elliot was very much on the back foot. If that pattern continued, Elliot would be lucky to go the distance.

  “You’re distracted,” Percy said. “You look like you’re a world away. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, get over it.”

  “I’m fine,” Elliot insisted. “Honestly, there’s nothing on my mind.”

  One of the reasons I’d come was to make sure Elliot focused on the fight and not on our relationship. Things had been great between us the last few days, so why would he be worried about that?

  “One minute,” the referee called out.

  “Let me check that cut above your eye,” I said, taking Elliot’s face in my hands and staring at the cut which had been bleeding just a few minutes ago. “It looks okay, but—”

  “Try not to get punched?”

  “Yes, if you could. It would make my job a lot easier.” The cut would clot given half a chance. If not, the blood would drip down into his eye and temporarily blind him. I frowned as I looked at the cut, and then directed my gaze down to his eyes.

  Something wasn’t right.

  I grabbed a small light from my supply kit and shone it in his eye. Elliot barely reacted. The eye was dilated. I checked the other one and it was the same.

  “Do you have a headache?” I asked.

  “No,” Elliot replied. “Don’t think so.”

  He didn’t look amped up for the fight anymore. If he went out like this he’d be destroyed.

  “What did we do last night?”

  “Last night? I don’t know, watched television?”

  He seemed confused and irritated by a simple question. Without being arrogant, I was fairly sure he wouldn’t have forgotten last night in a hurry.

  “What are we doing after the fight?” I asked.

  He frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know. An ice bath?”

  “Then what?”

  He just shrugged his shoulders.

  This wasn’t right. When I’d shown Elliot my underwear, he’d looked about ready to tear it off with his teeth. Now he’d forgotten all about it.

  “Okay gents,” the referee yelled. “Let’s get this back underway.”

  “We need more time,” I pleaded.

  “He looks okay to me. Come on, get a move on, or he’ll lose by disqualification.”

  Elliot stood up and walked back into the middle. All his limbs appeared to be working as normal, but he was slower, almost lethargic in the way he moved.

  The fight got back underway, and Elliot immediately started taking a pounding. He got a few punches in, but Tyler easily shrugged them off. Tyler could have moved in for the kill, but instead he seemed to be herding Elliot towards one particular part of the cage.

  The part where his coach had been earlier, and where he was still standing, cheering Tyler on from outside the cage.

  The cage was surrounded by padded poles a little like the corners in a boxing ring. Elliot kept backing up until he fell back against the padding.

  Suddenly the fight was over. I played the moment back in my mind, but it didn’t make any sense. Elliot leaned up against the padding, and Tyler punched him on the face, like he’d done countless times already.

  Unlike the other times, Elliot screamed out in pain, before collapsing down to the floor. He rolled a
round in agony, but he couldn’t get up and the referee declared Tyler the victor.

  The crowd booed, and Tyler jumped around the ring. I ignored him, and ran straight to Elliot.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  His arm reached around to his back and came back bloody.

  “What the—” I looked at his back and saw a large gash that looked like a knife wound.

  He’d been stabbed.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Elliot

  “What happened?”

  “What happened is that you moved while I was trying to suture the wound. Now lay still.”

  “I mean, why do I have a wound on my back?” I asked. “I just remember falling back against the padding and suddenly there was this intense pain in my back.”

  Alison stayed silent, while she poked and prodded at my back. My head hurt like hell, and not in the way my head always hurt after a fight. It was more like the pounding of a particularly bad hangover. And a fight. Like having a fight while hungover.

  “How’s your head?”

  “It’s… heavy. I don’t know how to describe it.”

  Alison stayed silent again.

  I’d lost. I’d lost the fight in front of thousands of fans, and plenty more watching on television. My first ever defeat. I suppose it had to happen at some point.

  Why didn’t I care?

  I’d just lost the biggest fight of my life to a man I hated more than any alive, but I didn’t feel angry. I just felt… calm. And tired. Really, really tired.

  * * *

  It was dark.

  I’d either slept for two days, or two hours. I couldn’t tell.

  At least my headache had gone.

  “Feeling better?” Alison asked.

  She was laying next to me on the bed. All I needed to do was turn around and I’d see her. It should be the easiest thing in the world, but it took all the energy I had.

  It was worth it.

  “Holy shit.”

  “I did say I’d wait for you wearing just my new underwear,” Alison said, as her hand brushed my face. I thought she was being tender, but she was checking my eyes.