Broken Prince (The Royals #2)

Reed just laughs. “Wanna come with? We probably won’t be long. Shit usually breaks up before two.”


I think it over. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so technically we can sleep in for as long as we want. “Sure. I’ll come.”

“Sweet. You can hold our winnings in your bra.” Easton waggles his eyebrows at me, which gets him another pillow to the face courtesy of Reed.

“Anything Ella wears under her clothes—bras included—doesn’t concern you,” Reed tells his brother.

Easton blinks innocently. “Dude, you need me to remind you who kissed her first?”

Reed growls, and I grab his arm before he can lunge at Easton. “Save it for the docks,” I chastise him.

“Fine.” He jabs a finger in the air in front of Easton. “But if you make one more pervy comment, I’m dragging you into the ring.”

“Can’t make any promises,” Easton says on our way out the door.

The drive to the docks doesn’t take long, and when we get there, there are already a bunch of cars parked near the fence that blocks off the shipyard. Reed and Easton hop over with ease, while I need two tries before I can haul myself over the fence. I land not so gracefully in Reed’s arms, and he pinches my butt before lowering me to my feet.

“You text Cunningham?” he asks Easton.

“Yeah, from the car. Dodson’s here.”

Reed’s eyes light up. “Nice. He’s got a wicked left.”

“It’s a beauty,” Easton agrees. “And he doesn’t telegraph it at all. It just comes out of nowhere. You took it like a champ the last time you fought him.”

“It hurt like a mother,” Reed admits, but he grins when he says it.

I roll my eyes. The two of them are practically skipping with delight over this Dodson guy and his manly fighting skills.

We pass rows and rows of shipping containers as we walk through the deserted yard. I hear faint shouts in the distance, the noise getting louder and louder the closer we get to the action. The guys who come to these fights don’t even try to hide their presence. I have no clue how they can get away with such an illegal activity on what’s obviously private property.

I voice the question to Reed, who shrugs and says, “We pay off the dockmaster.”

Of course they do. Since I moved in with the Royals, I’m learning that anything goes as long as you offer the right price.

When we reach the crowd of shirtless, rowdy boys, Reed and Easton don’t waste time stripping off their own T-shirts. As usual, my breath hitches at the sight of Reed’s bare chest. He’s got muscles in places that I didn’t even know had muscles.

“East!” someone shouts, and a sweaty guy with a shaved head comes up to us. “You buying in?”

“Damn right.” Easton hands over a stack of crisp hundred dollar bills.

It’s a big enough stack that I turn to Reed and whisper in his ear, “How much do these things cost?”

“Five large to fight, plus all the side bets that go on.”

Jeez. I can’t believe anyone would spend that much money just to beat someone up. But maybe it’s a guy thing, because every single male face I see is lit up with a feral sort of excitement.

Still, that doesn’t stop Reed from murmuring, “Stay with one of us at all times, you got me?”

He doesn’t kid around. For the next hour, I’ve got a Royal glued to my side. Easton fights two different times, winning once and losing once. Reed wins his one brawl, but not before his huge opponent—the one and only Dodson—splits Reed’s lip with an uppercut that makes me gasp. But my boy just grins as he rejoins my side, completely unfazed by the blood dripping down his chin.

“You’re an animal,” I say accusingly.

“You love it,” he answers, and then he kisses me—with tongue—and it’s such a deep, drugging kiss that I don’t even care that I can taste his blood in my mouth.

“Ready to go?” Easton waves around a stack of cash that’s twice the size of the one we showed up with. “Not sure I want to push our luck any more.”

Reed’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re quitting while you’re ahead? Is that…” He mock gasps. “…impulse control?”

Easton shrugs.

“Aw, look at that, Ella, baby bro is growing up.”

I laugh as Easton flips up his middle finger. “Come on,” I tell the guys. “Let’s go home. I’m getting kinda tired.”

They put their shirts back on, slap hands with a few of their friends, and then the three of us head back in the direction we came from, with Easton trailing behind me and Reed. As we walk, Reed brings his lips close to my ear. “You’re not really tired, are you? ‘Cause I had plans for you when we get home.”

I tilt my head up to smile at him. “What kind of plans?”

“Dirty ones.”

“I heard that,” Easton gripes from behind us.

Another laugh pops out of my mouth. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdro—”

Before I can finish, a hoodie-wearing figure darts out from between two shipping containers.

Reed’s head whirls to the side. “What the—”