Open Wounds: The Boxed Set

by Michelle Frost

  Nodding, Rory clapped his hands together. “Well, come on then. Let’s have a tour. You can meet some of the others, and we can chat.”

  Chapter Eleven

  One good thing about the hospitality industry was that no matter the state of the economy or the time of year, there was always a stack of applications waiting if you needed to hire new people. Of course, there was no guarantee that any of the applicants would be Viridian material, but he and Chelsea had narrowed down a list early in the week, making calls and setting up interviews. After his last interviewee of the day walked out of his office, Magnus made a note to give that one a call back and went to see how Chelsea’s interviews had gone.

  Walking out from the back into the club proper, it always amazed him how different the place seemed in the middle of the day with all the overhead lights on. Just a quiet space that transformed into a gyrating, alcohol infused wonderland come nightfall. Not for the first time, he wondered if this was really what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. Own a club. Run a business. He’d made and been smart with a significant amount of money over the course of his porn career, and he supposed if he really wanted, he didn’t actually have to work anymore. He could just sell the club and buy a house and maybe take up pottery. Learn to make his own coffee cups and sell them on Etsy.

  He shook his head at himself, and then a thought crossed his mind that had a slow smile spreading across his face. He should ask Rory what he thought. What were Rory’s plans going forward? What did Rory want to be doing in five years? Just thinking they might get to plan a future together after all sent a thrill through his veins. But he was getting ahead of himself. They should probably have at least one date before he was picking out china patterns.

  “What’s got that smile on your face?” Chelsea asked standing up from one of the U-shaped booths where several files were stacked on the table. He’d been lucky to find Chelsea when he was visiting some other clubs in the city before he’d purchased this one. She was sharp, focused, and meticulous in her attention to detail. She was also great with people which made her invaluable to him. Adjusting her dark-framed glasses, Chelsea pushed the long ponytail of brunette curls back over her shoulder and straightened her clothes. Her dark skin set off the viridian green button-down shirt she wore tucked into flattering black pants. Chels was one of those women who had a few extra curves, but instead of trying to hide her body, she embraced it and that confidence showed through in everything she did. Magnus thought she was sexy as hell.

  “Oh you know...tall, ginger, and handsome.”

  “Yes, he is.” Chelsea fanned herself. “Lord, if there was even a chance, I’d steal that man from you in a second flat. Don’t think I wouldn’t.”

  Magnus laughed, shooting her a wink. “If any lady could do it…”

  “You heading out for your lunch date?”

  “As long as you’re good? You sure you’re okay opening by yourself?” He’d been looking forward to this all week. He needed a few hours to not be at the club or his apartment, and especially needed to spend that time with Rory. They’d been texting, and it had taken all of Magnus’s strength to keep from asking Rory if he wanted to come over every night. It wasn’t fair, Magnus was down in the club until well after midnight even during the week. The hours the business required were great when you were trying to forget a lost love and work yourself into a dreamless sleep every night, but not so much when you were trying to build a new relationship. Especially with a day dwelling person. Great, now he sounded like a vampire.

  “I’m sure.” Chelsea put her hands on her hips. “I know we’re short some staff, but we’re not in dire straits just yet. Go meet your man.”

  “Thanks Chels. I’ll see you after a while.”

  “Later, lover-boy.” Her tinkling laughter followed him all the way out the door.

  Magnus had a few stops to make on his way to Rourke MMA where he was meeting Rory before they went to their super-secret restaurant destination. Magnus didn’t have the heart to tell him there probably wasn’t a restaurant in the Queen City that he hadn’t been to at least once. He hated that they weren’t able to spend much time together just as they were trying to reconnect, but he was going to make the best out of every single moment that they did have.

  On the way, he stopped at the dry cleaners, and maybe he was just paranoid, but it seemed like the silver car that parked a few places down from him had been behind him since he left the club. Dry cleaning in hand, his and Chelsea’s, he maneuvered the Shelby back out into traffic and headed to the bank. Watching carefully in the rear view, his heart started to pound when that same silver car pulled out of its spot and stayed a minimum of three cars behind him.

  He probably wouldn’t have even noticed, but that damn SUV that ran him off the road a couple weeks back had dredged up all sorts of unpleasant things out of the darkened corners of his subconscious. Coming home was supposed to have meant leaving all of that behind him, but the panic and fear that was creeping through his veins as he watched the silver car in the rearview making every turn he did told him that wasn’t the case.

  Pulling into the bank’s parking lot, where he would normally go through the drive thru, he whipped the Shelby into the closest open spot to the door and prepared to run. As soon as his feet hit pavement, a blur of silver screeched to a stop beside him and a man was climbing out of the driver’s side. In his panic, Magnus started to run, only catching a glimpse of dark hair.

  He heard someone shout, “Magnus!” just before a hand came down on his shoulder and he spun, bringing his fist down in a hammer swing out of instinct. Rocco blocked the strike and used a wrap hold to trap Magnus’s arm beneath his so Magnus couldn’t try to hit him again.

  “Magnus! It’s me, it’s me! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  The crash of relief at seeing Rocco’s face left him lightheaded, and he swayed on his feet, gasping for air.

  “Shit.” Rocco released the hold he had on him to wrap one arm around Magnus’s shoulders while holding unto his elbow with the other, guiding him back to his car. Rocco leaned him against the hood of the Shelby in between their two cars, then released him, but didn’t go far. “Magnus, I’m so sorry. I saw you make me at the dry cleaners, and I thought you realized it was me.”

  Magnus shook his head, teeth chattering from the cold and adrenaline, and still trying to get his breathing under control. “No, I just saw the car. Not you.” He glared daggers at his old friend, who looked genuinely contrite. “Why the fuck are you following me?”

  “You didn’t call me.”

  “So you’re following me?” The breathless outrage in his voice wasn’t nearly as impressive as he wanted it to be, but the leftover bits of his fear were quickly morphing into anger.

  “I was only trying to look out for you,” Rocco said, scanning the parking lot. “Come on, let’s get in the car.” Rocco pointed to the Shelby. “You need to warm up.”

  Magnus stood there a moment just looking at him before he nodded and moved on wobbly legs to slide inside the still warm interior of his car. In his haste to get out and get somewhere safe, he’d left the keys in the ignition. He cranked the engine over and sighed when heated air spilled out of the vents. Rocco opened the passenger door and settled in beside him. As soon as Magnus felt like his heart rate was somewhat under control, he turned to Rocco.

  “Now, what the hell are you talking about?”

  “The case I’m here on...it involves your ex.”

  Magnus felt the blood drain out of his face, and he reached forward to grip the steering wheel just to have something to ground him.

  “That’s why I came to club the other night. After you left, I guess several more people came forward. The other partners at the studio bought him out, but no one has any evidence to use against him.”

  “What does that have to do with me? I don’t have any evidence, either, unless you want to count therapy bills. I got away from him and all of that for a reason, Rocco
.”

  Rocco raised his hands, as if in surrender, but continued in a quiet voice. “My client is trying to build a case against him and when I followed Nolan here—”

  “He’s here?” Magnus jolted, panic building in his chest all over again.

  “Yes. He’s been keeping a low profile, and even though I can’t prove it yet, I think he’s at least partly responsible for some of the trouble you’ve been having at Viridian.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I looked up a couple of your former employees. Several have moved down the road to the new club, Gaslight. That alone isn’t all that unusual, but this last one, the bartender, Tom, he’s out looking for jobs with a black eye. So, I went digging. The company that bought the club? You’ll never guess who the majority owner is. And I mean, Gaslight? I’m sure he thinks he’s clever.”

  “Fuck.” Magnus’s brain was turning in circles. Nolan Clemonte. His family was old money rich, and he used it to get whatever he wanted. And what he couldn’t buy, he had no qualms taking. “But why are you following me? Shouldn’t you be following him?”

  Rocco wouldn’t meet his eyes for a moment, and when he did the look of apology in them had Magnus’s stomach turning.

  “Are you using me as bait?”

  Rocco spoke quickly then. “Like I said, he’s been laying low, and for all his faults, he’s not as stupid as I was hoping. But he’s too much of a narcissistic asshole to stay away from you forever.” Rocco’s voice went quiet before he continued. “From what I’ve been able to dig up on him, he started actively looking into real estate here as soon as the restraining order you had against him lapsed last year.”

  Magnus’s eyes went wide, his voice coming out as barely a whisper. “How do you know about that?”

  “Magnus.” Rocco set a hand on his shoulder. “This is my job. I investigate and collect all the data. I don’t believe you’re in any real danger. He’s seems to be more focused on fucking up your business—”

  “That will just be the start,” Magnus said, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. “He has to be in control, and if you don’t give him what he wants...God, I need to call Vidar. He’ll know a good security firm around here. I can’t put my employees in danger. Do you think he really attacked Tom?”

  “Just wait a moment.” Rocco looked thoughtful, like he was running through different scenarios in his head. “Nolan didn’t attack Tom personally, no. But if Tom went to the police and could identify whoever did attack him, I might be able to link them back to Nolan. Or at least to his club. That could draw enough unwanted attention to buy us some time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “For me to find something that will stick to this guy. If the cops are looking his way, too, maybe we’ll get lucky. In the meantime, think about filing a restraining order here. I think a judge would agree since you were granted an order in California, then moved across the country only for him to follow you when the order lapsed.”

  Magnus turned to look out the driver’s side window. There was a familiar burn behind his eyes, and the hollow chasm in his chest that he’d worked so hard to close, felt gaping and open, sucking all his light and joy into it. He didn’t realize Rocco had gotten out of the car until the driver’s side door opened, and Rocco’s hands were guiding him to slide over the seat.

  “Put your seatbelt on,” Rocco said, buckling his own.

  “Where are we going?” Magnus asked, trying to take even breaths and get his trembling fingers to cooperate enough to operate the seat belt.

  “To Rory.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Rory decided he liked Andre a lot. The kid was smart and good natured, and Rory had no doubt that training with him would be very reminiscent of training with Harbor—raw grit and determination fueling everything he did. After a tour of the gym, they wound up back in the lounge of Open Wounds with Harbor and Theo, talking shop.

  “I think the light heavyweight class will serve you better, Andre,” Harbor said, flipping through Ollie’s latest tattoo portfolio. “Man, I need more ink. Hey, Kayla! How long before Ollie has an open appointment?”

  Kayla looked up from behind the computer screen on the counter that separated the lounge from the hall leading back to the tattoo rooms. “For you? I’m sure he’d make room, but he’s booked pretty solid until mid-March right now.”

  Theo let out a low whistle. “I think we picked the wrong profession, babe.” He elbowed Harbor, who laughed.

  “No one wants the lopsided stick-figure tattoos I would give them.”

  Andre was seated in the chair beside Rory’s, and he leaned up to see the tattoo images as Harbor flipped through the portfolio’s pages. “Wow, those are awesome.”

  Harbor looked up at him. “Dude, Ollie’s legit. Everyone here is. If you need ink, you won’t find a better shop.”

  “Awwww thanks, Blondie,” Kayla cooed from the counter, and Theo started to cackle.

  “Are you shitting me, Theodore?” Harbor poked his boyfriend in the side, but it only made Theo laugh harder.

  “Anyway,” Rory said, smiling despite himself. “Before these two got us off track, I’d like for us to set up a meeting with Dagen. He can help build you a diet that will fuel your training and add muscle.”

  “He the giant one?”

  Rory chuckled. “Yep. Then we’ll map out a training and lifting schedule.”

  “Thank you so much for doing this,” Andre said quietly. “I really appreciate it.”

  “Don’t thank me, yet. If you’re anything like this one,” he jutted his chin at Harbor who was still giving Theo shit for telling Kayla his pet name, “then you’ll be cursing my name in no time.”

  “That’s kind of hard to imagine.” Andre was talking to him, but had his wide eyes trained on Harbor and Theo, who were now wrestling on the couch. Harbor had Theo in a headlock and Theo had Harbor in what looked like the mother of all nipple twisters.

  Just as Rory was about to step in, Vidar walked through the door separating Open Wounds from Rourke MMA and frowned. “Boys.” Vidar’s voice was both commanding and amused, making Rory chuckle, but Andre looked like he’d been starstruck.

  Taking pity on him, Rory stood up and motioned for Andre to follow him. “Vi, we have a new member. Andre Harrison, meet Vidar Rourke.”

  “Hi, Andre.” Vidar clasped Andre’s extended hand. “Glad to have you.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Call me Vidar and let me know if you need anything. You couldn’t be in better hands than Rory’s.”

  Rory’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he took a step back to check it. Seeing Magnus’s name, he swiped to answer and walked closer to the door.

  “Hey, I wa—”

  “Rory, it’s Rocco.”

  A flare of alarm pinged through Rory. “Where’s Magnus? Why are you on his phone?”

  “He’s fine. He’s right here in the car. Are you at the gym? Could you meet us outside?” Rory was hanging up the phone and striding to the door before Rocco had finished speaking. He was vaguely aware of Vidar following him, but only had eyes for the grey Shelby Mustang pulling into the parking lot. He was across the lot and pulling open the passenger side door before Rocco had the car turned off.

  Magnus was fiddling with the seat belt release and wouldn’t meet his eyes. Kneeling, Rory reached across and pushed the button to release the belt. “Magnus?” he asked, carefully. There was something in the way Magnus was holding himself that scared Rory almost as much as how pale he was. He looked up at Rocco in time to see Vidar opening the driver side door and pulling Rocco out before shutting the door again. “Maggie, love, can you scoot over?”

  Nodding, Magnus moved to the middle of the bench seat, and Rory slid into the car, pulling the door closed and trapping what heat there was inside.

  “I told him not to come here.”

  “What? Why?”

  Magnus chewed his lip. He seemed totally removed from the situation around
him. Like he was somewhere else. Or his mind was.

  “Maggie.”

  “I need to tell you something.” Magnus looked up suddenly, holding Rory’s gaze with eyes filled with such sadness that it squeezed the vice already clenching Rory’s chest that much tighter.

  “Okay,” he said quickly, scooting closer to Magnus and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “You can tell me anything.”

  “I know, but I wish...I wish I didn’t have to tell you this.”

  Blood was roaring in Rory’s ears. What the hell was happening? Something was obviously very, very wrong. He’d seen Magnus angry and sad and inconsolable with grief, but he’d never, ever seen this silent resignation, and it was scaring the hell out of him.

  The driver’s side door opened, and instead of Rocco, Vidar sat in the driver’s seat and without pause pulled Magnus into his arms, holding him against his chest. Magnus clung to his brother, trembling hands fisting in the front of Vidar’s shirt, and Rory was torn between jealousy that Magnus would seek solace from someone else and relief that Vidar had the strength to be what Magnus needed.

  Vidar’s ice blue eyes met Rory’s over Magnus’s head, and the depth of rage in them seared Rory down to his bones. After taking a deep breath, Vidar pressed a kiss to the side of Magnus’s head. “Come on, Mags. Let’s go inside.” Then he whispered something that Rory barely caught, but it sounded like, “I’ll never let him touch you again.”

  Rory’s stomach bottomed out, swooping down as bile crawled up his throat.

  Magnus nodded against Vidar, and Vi reached for the door handle, so Rory turned toward his door as well. He was startled to see Harbor and Dagen, both looking as livid as Vidar, standing in front of the car. Fingers gripped Rory’s arm before he got the door open, pulling him back around, and then Magnus was pushing into his space, his hazel eyes a bit clearer than they’d been a moment ago. Vidar slipped out of the car, and walked to stand with his brothers, giving them a moment.