Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  “Which is unnecessary.”

  “Bullshit. He can’t protect himself. You made sure he has no defenses against you. But you didn’t do the same for me and it’s too late to take that back.” Lawson tipped his head as though saying a silent prayer and let out a rough, irritated sound. “Matt will help Jamie. We all will. But I understand why you’re not treating him like you did me or Curtis. The same reason you’ve been keeping Wren at arm’s length.”

  “I love how you’re trying to analyze me. Do keep doing that.” Noah took his coffee to the other side of the bar and pulled out a stool. Lawson would probably be much happier if Noah didn’t stick around, but too fucking bad. They had business to discuss. Real business, not what the man had decided to insert himself in. “The influx of members makes it difficult to ensure privacy and safety. The gates outside are useless if we can’t trust those we let past them.”

  Taking a deep breath, Lawson came to sit in the position on this side of the bar he’d always favored, a place considered his to the point the stool was often empty, even when the club was packed. It gave him the advantage of being able to observe every member as they passed to enter the ring or head up to the dungeon. His presence alone demanded a certain behavior from those around him, but constantly had to be reinforced—likely more often since Matt’s arrival and the balancing act of sharing leadership with Curtis.

  “I’d have preferred limiting those we approved a bit more, but the business is doing well, so it was a good decision.”

  “It wasn’t your decision, was it.” Not a question and he wasn’t surprised when Lawson didn’t answer. “Who approved Jamie’s membership?”

  Lawson’s lips thinned. “He had a good referral and—”

  “And is a celebrity. Nothing was done to prepare for the potential risk of having him here. Did either you or Curtis even know?”

  “No. I don’t believe so.” Lawson brought his coffee to his lips. Took a long drink as he rested his elbows on the bar and quietly watched Matt stiffly cleaning behind it. “Banning phones from inside the club was a good idea. I’ll go over the members we have and issue a reminder to anyone connected to the media that their contract includes an NDA.”

  “Good. We have some members who are high profile, professional fighters, so that would be a priority either way.” Noah’s lips curved as he recalled the excited chatter he’d overheard last night as Jamie’s name was tossed around. “Have you ever heard of Glam Grenade?”

  Head tilted in thought, Lawson shook his head. “I don’t believe so. We’re not exactly the target audience, though. According to the articles I’ve read since Jamie’s arrival, they were a boy band with several mainstream hits. Matt, are you familiar with their music?”

  “No, but Garet keeps up with stuff like that.” Matt finished scrubbing down the sink and dried his hands on a black and red striped dishcloth. His gaze still shifted away from Noah’s, but he seemed less nervous. “Reed too. He loves those gossip rags and shi—stuff.”

  “Good. If he’s familiar with this kind of scandal, he might have an idea of how long it will be before the next one takes the focus off of Jamie.” Noah glanced over as the door opened again. He smiled as Reed came in with Curtis, Jamie trailing them both. He wanted Jamie to have a taste of normalcy here—which might be difficult with his every move reminding him of last night, but that couldn’t be helped.

  Reed ducked behind the bar, plucking up a cushion he’d stashed back there and skittering out to stop beside Noah, hesitating at the stool next to him.

  Noah inclined his head.

  “Come on, pop star.” Reed placed the cushion on the stool, then patted it, grinning at Jamie as he gingerly made his way over. “It took a lot of trial and error, but this is the gold standard of padding for sore asses. You can borrow it for as long as you need.”

  Jamie shot Noah an uncertain look. Lowered his gaze and nodded as he lifted himself to the stool. His expression tightened as he settled in, but then he took a deep breath, a small smile on his lips. “Thanks, Reed.”

  The conversation around them was stiff at first. Curtis even brought up the weather, which had Noah rolling his eyes. A quiet laugh from Jamie brought his focus to the other man and he glanced over just in time to catch him looking down, fidgeting with the string on the oversized hoodie he was wearing.

  One of Curtis’s. Noah set aside the jolt of irritation at seeing Jamie in another man’s clothes and tapped his fingers lightly on the bar in front of him, lips curving when Jamie looked up. “Did you sleep well, all things considered?”

  “I… Yeah, Curtis and Reed were really nice.” He poked the edge of his lip with the tip of his tongue. “Do I have to stay with them from now on?”

  “No. I welcomed you to my home, Jamie.” He put his hand over the one Jamie had rested on the bar. “Wren’s fixing up a room for you—it’s my study, but you can consider it your own space for as long as you’re here.”

  He’d hoped the information would comfort Jamie. Instead, the man looked absolutely crushed.

  After what he’d been through last night, Jamie would likely be sensitive, and Noah would do his best to help him through it without crossing the lines he’d need to clarify. At some point. But first he needed to figure out what the problem was. “Don’t you want your own room?”

  The look Jamie gave him said Noah should already know the answer. He let out a weary huff. “I don’t know, are you gonna be locking me inside to keep me out of trouble?”

  Around them, the other men quieted. Except for Reed, who dropped the basket of dirty rags he’d been collecting and banged his head repeatedly again the closest pillar until a hard look from Curtis stilled him.

  Damn it, he should have waited to have this discussion with Jamie alone. Then Noah’s reaction wouldn’t be scrutinized. If he let this slide it would be assumed…

  Fuck it. Let them assume whatever the hell they want. He slid his hand around the back of Jamie’s neck and shook his head. “No, Jamie. You’ll keep out of trouble because I’m asking you to. Because otherwise, that punishment was pointless.”

  “You…” Jamie chewed at his bottom lip. “You still need to punish me for swearing.”

  Noah pressed his eyes shut. Drew his hand away. This was not going well. Without a deeper understanding of what his submission actually meant, Jamie would keep running around blindly, slamming into walls no matter which way he turned because he couldn’t see the opening right in front of him. If Noah trained him, that would stop, but that kind of attachment would be much more difficult to break than letting the man into his bed now and then.

  “I will decide what you need, little cat.” He pushed off the stool. “Right now, it is to stay here. Have some coffee and something to eat while you discuss your schedule with Matt. He’ll be teaching you how to fight. I’ll send Wren down to begin the rest of your instruction—Reed?” Noah met the young man’s startled gaze. “I’d appreciate your help as well.”

  A silent exchange with Curtis, then Reed nodded. “It would be my pleasure. Turns out, I’m a very good teacher.”

  The mischievous smile Reed gave Matt had the other man blushing.

  Lawson gave Reed a hard look. Held up one finger.

  Reed swallowed hard.

  On any other day, Noah would be fascinated by the interplay, but he dismissed it. It didn’t include him and other matters required his attention. He inclined his head to Reed then gave Jamie one last long look. The man was grinding his teeth and scowling at the bartop. He was frustrated and Noah didn’t have the first clue how to make this easier for him.

  He sighed, stepping up to Jamie. Framed his jaw with his hand, holding his gaze. “This would be a good time for you to remember what I’ve said to you. All the things I’ve said.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You will listen to everything the other submissives here tell you about the rules. You are not to communicate with anyone besides them and myself until future notice. This includes Curtis and
Lawson.” He looked to the two Doms, pleased when they simply nodded their understanding. They likely didn’t want Jamie to earn another punishment any more than he did. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you can be happy and comfortable here, but I need you to work with me, Jamie.”

  “I will.” Jamie traced his bottom lip with his tongue. “I can do this.”

  “I know you can.” Reckless as it was, Noah leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss over Jamie’s lips, speaking against them. “I’m proud of how well you took that punishment, but you don’t need to prove how tough you are. Not like that. It’s more fun in the ring.”

  That made Jamie laugh. “So I can have black eyes and a sore ass?”

  “If there’s a single bruise on you from your first few lessons, you won’t be the only one suffering.” He tapped Jamie’s nose, straightened, and crossed the bar to pat Lawson’s shoulder. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

  The dark look Lawson gave him promised retribution, which meant their game would continue. Hopefully, without either of their subs getting caught in the crossfire. Maybe it was a little twisted, but Noah found himself eager for the next round.

  Though not as much as he was looking forward to Jamie figuring out how to enjoy his place here and everything The Asylum had to offer.

  If he could remember why he’d chosen to stay.

  Chapter Seven

  “Dude! You hafta at least try to hit me!” Reed bounced around on the balls of his feet, taped hands in front of his face, executing a one-two jab for emphasis.

  Jamie, a little too close, flinched into rather than away from the punch and whirled. “Fuck! Ow! Jesus. I hate this shit.”

  He was a singer, a dancer, occasionally an actor. Testosterone smelled and looked good—better than good—on dudes like Lawson and Curtis. On him it looked like a bad rendition of a Three Stooges flick. Cupping his nose, he glared over his fingers at Reed. If the dude had damaged a forty-thousand-dollar plastic surgery that had taken fucking months to fully heal, he was going to flip out.

  “Mother fucking...” His fingers dripped blood onto the mat and he swore again, voice echoing. “Fuck.”

  “Stop swearing.” Hand on his back, Reed bent to peer at the damage. “We’re both in enough trouble.”

  He straightened, nearly braining the dude. “Me? What the eff did I do?”

  Reed’s lips thinned. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

  Casting a look at the gym door, Jamie stalked away from his sparring partner. Curtis had gone to ‘get something’ and Reed had convinced him to keep practicing. They were probably both in trouble, but as far as he was concerned he’d already been punished by ramming his face into Reed’s fist.

  “You know, I was watching some videos of Glam Grenade on YouTube last night.” Reed followed him to the edge of the ring and motioned for him to sit. “You have serious dance moves. If you used them, you could be a contender.”

  Legs dangling over the edge, Jamie sat and rested his forearms on the second rope. At least his ass didn’t hurt quite as much as it had three days ago, and he hadn’t had much time to think about the wreckage of his former life, with the various types of training the other subs were putting him through. Hearing Glam’s name on Reed’s lips, however, acted as a ripstop to any chance he had of forgetting his throbbing face.

  Especially as the strains of one of Glam’s catchier dance tunes, Gonna Bust Out My Love, bubbled over the sound system and Reed shot him a conspiratorial grin. “I told Curtis to go put on some of your tunes so we could train to them.”

  Jamie scrambled to his feet when Trevor’s voice shot forward on the vocal track, wrapping his own on a flirty line. The moment they’d recorded that together in the studio returned. The improvisational throaty little trill had been his idea. Trevor had clapped him on the back and called him his ‘main bro’.

  God, that memory fucking hurt.

  He considered the ropes and whether or not he’d be able to tangle Reed in them long enough to make his escape.

  Probably not.

  He whirled, pushing a hand through his hair, the song pounding at his remaining emotional reserves. “Are you a moron?”

  Cheeks red like Jamie had slapped him, Reed stood, fists balled. “Apparently. Because I wasted my time trying to do something nice for you.”

  Trevor’s voice chasing him, Jamie stormed over the ropes toward the door, but it opened before he got there. Curtis stepped through, his smile falling from his face. He cut a look to Reed, then back to Jamie. “What happened to your nose?”

  Unable to respond because of Noah’s gag order, Jamie pointed furiously at Reed his, ‘What do you think happened, asshole?’ written on his face.

  “He walked into my fist.” Arms crossed over his blue and gold striped jersey, Reed scowled from the center of the ring. He motioned to Jamie, crooking his finger. “Come here so you can do it again.”

  Glam’s rendition of I’m a Lover Not a Fighter rolled on next, pretty much answering the question for him. Stalking over to the ring, Jamie looked up at Reed and said, “Tell your Dom that I’m going for a walk. And then I’m going to work out. By myself. I’m done.”

  Curtis’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. “I don’t think that’s the spirit of the law Noah was aiming for, boy.”

  Knowing Noah would be disappointed in him for...everything, he closed his eyes. Not being able to communicate with someone standing right fucking next to him sucked. He’d come up against the restriction a few times over the past few days and had to think his way out of it.

  “Could someone please just turn off this shit?” He put his hands over his ears and turned away.

  Reed hopped over the ropes and scurried past him and Curtis, who turned to Jamie, pulling him close. “Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let him talk me into that. It was stupid.”

  The Dom smelled like laundry soap and lollipops—probably Reed’s. For a split second, he let himself imagine what it would be like if it were Noah who held him like that and sighed.

  Pulling away, he looked up at Curtis, his apology on his face as the man cupped his chin, turning his head one way and then the other way. “Noah is going to be unhappy.”

  It was my fault.

  “You have the most expressive eyes, boy.” Curtis cupped his cheek before letting his hand fall away. “I can see why he’s thinking with his dick.” When Jamie shook his head, Curtis bopped him. “Stop gaming the rules.”

  The music switched to another artist and Jamie let out a relieved breath.

  Which was short-lived.

  The door to the gym opened, Reed shuffling in, regret tightening his features. Doc a step behind him. Jamie went still. Instinct told him to run, but three days of submission training with Wren had him lowering his gaze.

  “Good boy,” Curtis whispered, stepping back.

  Doc carried a black bag into view, setting it down on the edge of the ring. Chilled fingers lifted his chin, and he shied his gaze away so he stared at the clock on the far wall. Breaths coming hard, he swallowed. Saw Doc’s lips slant into a cold smile as he clicked on a penlight to shine it up his nose and in his eyes.

  “Front.” Doc’s one-word command had Jamie’s eyes snapping forward. “Follow my finger.”

  He looked to the left and the right, up and down. The finger retreated and came close, before the penlight clicked off. Doc tucked the light back into his pocket and reached into his bag for a metal instrument that looked like tweezers except they had little clamps. Focused on packing some gauze into a shape that would fit up his nose, he didn’t look up, giving Jamie a chance to study him in profile.

  Catching him staring, Doc stilled, his gaze taking on an intensity that made Jamie instinctively step back.

  “Oh no. And you were doing so well.” The man’s soft tone sent a shudder walking up his spine.

  Curtis put his hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Almost done.”

  “Tip your head back, su
b.”

  Jamie complied, grateful for Curtis at his back, because there was no fucking way he could have bared his throat to Doc as the man approached with something that smelled strongly of alcohol and wiped the blood off his face in efficient swipes. He jerked back when the clamped gauze came into contact with his left nostril.

  Doc palmed the back of his head and stuffed the gauze up into his nose in one hard push that made Jamie’s eyes water. Curtis’s thumbs circled on his shoulders, soothing.

  “It’s not broken.” Doc turned away, snapping his bag shut, before he looked over Jamie’s head to Curtis. “You can tell Noah his pretty boy face is safe...for now.”

  Curtis must’ve inclined his head, because Doc left the gym, taking the air of graveside menace with him. Watching him go, Curtis shook his head in seeming disbelief. “You sure know how to pick your enemies, boy.”

  “Doc’s not so bad once you get to know him.” Reed issued the observation from his seat on one of the gym’s folding chairs.

  Glitter-covered sneakers kicked up on the edge of the ringside steps, he chewed on a lollipop. Dude was going to cost someone a fortune in dental work if he didn’t stop gnawing on those things.

  The side of his nose felt like he had a cold, all stuffed up, but otherwise he mostly felt better. He also felt like an asshole for being shitty to Reed.

  Swallowing down his pride, he approached the guy, hand out. “Sorry for being a jerk.”

  Reed sat up, feet falling to the floor, an open smile breaking across his face. “Yeah. Don’t think about it, dude. I’m sorry about my fist being in the wrong place.”

  They shook and Jamie glanced to the ring. “You were going to show me how to dance out of the way?”

  “Hell yeah. You’ve got some sick moves, Jamie.” Scrambling into the ring, Reed held out a hand for him. “I mean, that halftime show you did? Flipping phenomenal.”