Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  But that time had passed. And he’d take no satisfaction in this win, but they couldn’t continue this battle forever. Eventually, one of them would have to come out on top. He wasn’t even sure he wanted it to be him. Except, he couldn’t afford to lose. If he did, where did that leave him?

  He would’ve been able to share those thoughts with Lawson when they’d been lovers. And friends. Doing so now would ruin any chance the man had against him. So he kept his smile in place and made sure Lawson kept enough hatred to fuel him.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Anniston Falls wasn’t exactly the design mecca of North America. Jamie stared at the meager fabric samples in the discount store and sighed. He didn’t usually care about status and money—maybe because for as long as he could remember, he’d had more than enough of whatever material things he’d desired—but he really had wanted to get this right.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” Tracey peered over his shoulder at the bolt of glossy, machine-printed fabric.

  Letting the synthetic blend slip through his fingers, he turned to her, nose scrunched. “I just wanted it to be special. For Reed and everyone, you know?”

  Shopping local might be important, but this stuff was going to take a lot of wear and tear. He didn’t want the stools for The Asylum’s dance club to look like crap six weeks in.

  “Hm.” Running her hand over the fabric, she shook her head. “You’re right. But I think I have an idea.”

  “Thank God, because this place is boring as fu—” Ezran stomped on Garet’s foot, cutting off his curse word. “Ow! Sh—” Another stomp. “Ow! Dude!”

  “Boys!” Tracey shook her head. “I know my son would prefer you didn’t curse in front of me, but I promise you I fucking know how to take shit from men twice your age. I can handle your language.”

  Jamie clapped the heel of his hand over his mouth at the look on Garet and Ezran’s faces. They’d come along for the shopping trip in hopes of finding the second-hand gaming store had finally gotten in some gruesomely stabby horror game they’d been looking forward to.

  “What’s your idea?” He walked with Tracey to the register so she could pay for the thread and some notions she’d needed for a project.

  White-blonde braid trailing over her shoulder, she looked at him and smiled. Her son had her eyes and mouth. Jamie bet that before the cancer she’d glowed just like him. Still beautiful, she had a bit of a faded edge that said she’d been through a lot in the last few years.

  “I have some artwork of Noah’s. Abstract pieces. I say we scan them and get them printed on fabric. Special order.” Plunking down her items, she slid them to the cashier. “It’d be nice to have more of him around that place.”

  Jamie’s eyes widened. “I didn’t know you ever went there.”

  Her lips quirked as the cashier rang her up. “Don’t tell Noah. I come to stock the wine and other high-end spirits for Lawson once a month. Gets me out of the house and I can make sure nobody’s burned the place down.”

  “I won’t say a word.” Jamie smiled at her and grabbed her bags off the counter.

  Garet and Ezran played Jedi with some wrapping paper tubes they carried from the card store. Jamie laughed when Garet whapped Ez upside the head in a particularly well-aimed shot. Ez got him in a headlock and they knocked over a rack of ribbon, the cardboard spools rolling in every direction.

  “Boys!” Tracey rolled her eyes, sighing. “Jamie, why don’t you go down to the second-hand store and see if you can find a new candy dish for Reed. His was knocked off the bar the other night and I told him I’d look.”

  “Sure.” Hands tucked in his pockets, he shouldered out of the store, grateful to get away from the teenagers’ wreckage before anyone looked too closely at him. While still having some way to make himself useful.

  Outside, the weather was warm and the sunshine felt nice on his skin. He lifted his face, soaking in the quiet streets and rare freedom of being on his own. After so many weeks without leaving The Asylum, being outside the security gates felt a little intimidating. He’d left with Tracey this afternoon to find the gates blissfully devoid of paparazzi. Walking down the sidewalk, he realized, might have been the most normal thing he’d done since he was six years old and auditioning for kids’ television shows with his mom in the wings.

  Walking past a store with black-painted windows, he slowed. A neon sign buzzed overhead with sexy symbols on it. He sounded it out. SEX...PLO...SION. Biting the inside of his cheek at the cheesy name, he looked over his shoulder. Tracey hadn’t come out of the fabric store. He ducked inside, the bell ringing overhead. The place was dark, and mostly empty except for some guys poring over the porno rack and the clerk who leaned on the counter, attention on his cell.

  A quick scan of the aisles, and he found what he wanted. Lifting his selection from the rack, he brought it to the counter and fished for his wallet, wanting to be outside before Tracey figured out where he’d gone.

  The guy looked up from his phone, gaze so bored even Jamie wanted to go to sleep. “That it?”

  “Yeah.” He handed over his credit card absentmindedly and looked over his shoulder at the dildo display.

  Seriously, people could not shove things that big up any part of the human anatomy he’d ever seen.

  “Can I see some ID?”

  Jamie looked back around, caught the guy’s expression, and closed his eyes. Fuck. Sighing, he took out his license and handed it over.

  A smirk kicked up the clerk’s mouth, his entire body rocketing from ennui to energized. “My little sister is going to shit herself when she finds out you really are gay.”

  Jamie gritted his teeth. “You gonna ring me up or run your mouth?”

  That amused expression changed, the air charging with a different kind of interest as the dude met the eyes of someone who stood behind Jamie. He hadn’t even heard the guy move.

  “Problem here, Bri?” Hemming him in, the guy put a hand on either side of Jamie on the glass case.

  Palm sliding over his credit card and license, Jamie licked his lips. Eyed the package on the counter.

  Yeah. Fuck it.

  Remembering what Matt had said about angling his fist, he spun around. Hooked the guy in the throat, then snatched up the lollipops. Bolted before the dude could stop choking and come after him.

  Adrenaline zipping, he shoved out of the shop and ran to the second-hand store before he stopped. Inside, Tracey looked up, Ezran and Garet close by her side. She rang up a green glass candy dish with a little cobalt knob on the lid. Totally cute. And just the right size for…

  He looked down at the bag in his hand. The clerk hadn’t bagged the...stolen...items. One giant rainbow lolly shaped like a lifesize dick, and a bag of smaller penis pops. Ezran took one look at the stuff, eyes going wide, and burst into hysterics, Garet joining him. Jamie brought his smarting fist around his back, hiding both items from view.

  Saying “They’re for Reed,” didn’t seem to help.

  Ezran waved his hand, bent over. “Stop. Can’t breathe. Oh. My. God.”

  Humor in her eyes, Tracey only shook her head and finished buying the candy dish, handing it to Jamie on her way out of the store. Grinning, Jamie plunked the candy inside and followed, gaze skipping toward the sex shop. Nobody had called the cops or the news yet but he bet that wouldn’t last long.

  “Come on.” Tracey opened the car and put her packages in the trunk. “Let’s go home and get some lunch before I have to tell my son that the three of you destroyed downtown Anniston Falls.”

  Jamie slid into the front seat, Garet and Ezran in the back. The inside of the car smelled like flowered air freshener and store-made lasagna. He breathed in the combined scents and decided he liked them. Just like everything in this town. Even the dick-hole clerk. Looking down at the bruise blooming across his knuckles, he realized he’d actually managed to defend himself. Not that he could tell anyone. He had a feeling no matter how much No
ah cared about him, the story wouldn’t go over well.

  Twisty back roads eventually led them to a more rural area, dotted with fewer houses and even a field of cows. Warm air blew on him from the vent and he nestled into the seat, listening to Ez and Garet argue over the coolest Avenger.

  “Are you enjoying your stay?” Tracey glanced over to him, her gaze curious and friendly.

  Jamie nodded. “Yeah. Noah is…” His cheeks heated as he quickly found and discarded several choice adjectives. “A really good friend.”

  Tracey’s brows shot up. “You do realize I know my son is gay?”

  “Uh.” Way to go idiot. “That’s cool. That he could tell you that.”

  He had no idea anyone talked about anything with parents. Thinking back to his last conversation with his mother, he realized it hadn’t been with her at all. It had been with his accountant, about the taxes for his mother’s new house in Laurel Canyon.

  “Do your parents know you’re gay?” From anyone else the question would’ve been nosy. From Tracey, it just sounded like she was getting to know him.

  He laughed. “I’d be surprised if they remember my name.”

  They pulled into the gravel driveway and up to the front porch, and Tracey keyed off the ignition. Ez and Garet scrambled out, opening the trunk, grabbing the groceries and packages.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Tracey unbuckled her seatbelt and shifted to face him. “Do you miss L.A.?”

  Jamie rolled his lips between his teeth and breathed deep. It was nice to have someone ask, but there weren’t any good answers to that question.

  He shrugged. “Yes… No... I don’t know.”

  “Sounds like a reasonable answer.” The lines around Tracey’s eyes crinkled with her smile. “I can barely choose an ice cream flavor.”

  He threw Tracey a duh grin. “Mint chocolate chip all the way.”

  Tracey smiled. “Noah’s is a rum raisin I used to make. I should do that soon.”

  The idea of Noah eating, much less liking, ice cream tilted him sideways. “Hmm.”

  He stared out the window. The boughs of a pine tree at the side of the drive bobbed in the wind. It occurred to Jamie as he looked out over the outbuildings and the homey porch with its slipcovered furniture, that Noah probably had grown up here, or at least lived here at some point. The idea of the man anywhere but The Asylum seemed strange. Like if he stepped outside its walls he might cease to exist.

  “I can’t picture Noah in L.A.” He outlined his thoughts in one sentence.

  Tracey laughed. “I don’t think Rodeo Drive would ever be the same.”

  An image of a forty-foot Noah going Godzilla on the glitzy stores made him laugh. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

  The car engine pinged as it cooled, and clouds skated over the sun. He felt like Tracey was waiting for something, but he didn’t know what.

  “He’s…” He chanced a peek at her. “Am I allowed to be in love with him?”

  Her brows rose, but not in a freaked out way. “You’re asking my permission to feel what you feel?”

  “No.” He shook his head. Sighed deep. “Yes.”

  A hand came up to tousle his hair. “Oh, kiddo. He’s got you upside down.”

  Jamie frowned. “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Come on inside.” She smiled, hand on the door. “I need to make sure Ez and Garet haven’t killed each other or eaten all the lasagna. Or both.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute?”

  “Sure.” Bending to look in the door, she gave him a sympathetic smile. “You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel, and if you want my son, I’ll support you all the way. That man needs someone to love him.”

  Happiness broke free, bubbling up into Jamie’s chest and he smiled. “Thanks, Tracey.”

  “Come in when you’re ready.” Straightening, she closed the car door and went inside.

  He felt for the seat lever and canted himself backward, one hand under the back of his head, the other in his pocket on his phone. He hadn’t so much as checked his voice messages in weeks and hadn’t wanted to. Looking up at the trees, truly alone for the first time in he didn’t know how long, he contemplated the options he’d been avoiding thinking about at all.

  Tracey knew Noah would hate L.A. Did anyone really love L.A. though? When push came to shove, would he be enough to make Noah step outside his comfort zone? Poking the side of his mouth with his tongue, he came away with a lingering taste that was all Noah, a bit of coffee and bourbon, sweet cigars and his favorite spicy soap a warm caress on his skin. Happiness rolled over him. Warm contentment. Noah’s presence remained with him even the rare times they were apart. The way the man looked at him. Really saw him, as no one else ever did.

  How much does he really know about you?

  The stupid question rolled over him.

  How much do you really know about him?

  “Shut up.” He muttered at himself, returning his attention to the clouds that rolled faster across the sky.

  He didn’t have to know every single fact about Noah’s life to know he loved the way his mind worked, the way he took care of Jamie, the way he viewed everything around him like he was painting a picture, how he always did what he said and said what he meant. No amount of history—good or bad—could change the core facts. He loved Noah, and if push came to shove, he’d stay with him. Give up the fake and grab onto the real. No matter how scary the idea seemed.

  A life without music was something he’d never contemplated. He’d dabbled in film but singing for people and making them happy with sappy love songs filled him up. Mostly. Off stage was a different story. People saw him differently or didn’t see him at all. The icon they thought they knew wasn’t real. The defenses he’d built around himself to survive fame fell away, unneeded, around Noah. If he could have combined what he had with Noah with what he had on stage, his life would be perfect.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket and he drew it out. A text message. One of—he thumbed the thing to life and laughed—six-hundred and twelve. And the number of people who had his number was extremely limited. Which meant a ton of stuff needed his attention.

  Fist around the plastic case, he groaned. He didn’t want to fucking deal with this...or anything outside of The Asylum. Content to remain in his insulated world with Noah, he stuck the phone back in his pocket and opened the car door. At least he had the answer to Tracey’s question. L.A. had lost its appeal.

  His future lay with the man he loved.

  Tracey drove him back to The Asylum early to get ahead of a storm the weather report predicted would be either snow or ice, depending on some magical formula not even the forecasters seemed to be able to calculate. Nasty storm or no, The Asylum’s parking lot was choked with vehicles when they arrived.

  “Full house tonight.” Whistling low, Tracey grinned. “Must be a good fight on.”

  “Lawson and Noah.” He threw the information over his shoulder as he stepped from the passenger side. “Thanks—”

  He stopped mid-sentence when Tracey followed him out of the car, an unreadable expression on her face much like Noah in one of his strange moods. Fists on her hips, loose hair whipping in the wind, she frowned. Then nodded, sharp. One hand on Jamie’s shoulder, she motioned for him to get moving.

  “Um? Tracey?” Jamie wrinkled his nose.

  “I have a membership.” She canted her head, a humorous glint in her eye, and deepened her voice. “Boy.”

  He burst out laughing. “You’re serious?”

  She shrugged, staring up at the storm clouds that hung low over the building. “It’s honorary. I fronted some of the money for the construction. I’ve never used it… Haven’t wanted to. Until now.”

  Shaking his head slowly, Jamie covered his face with his free hand. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. The bar can get...”

  How the hell am I going to explain this to Noah?

  “Just let me in the back, hon.” Tracey shooed him toward the front door. “I wa
nt to see my son fight.”

  That sounded...reasonable? Nobody much got naked in the ring. Looking down at the lollipops in his hand, he frowned.

  Except Reed.

  Shit.

  Hopefully, he could get to the guy before he came downstairs in something that would make Tracey want to gouge out her eyes with a spoon. Sprinting to the door, he hit the buzzer and Doc let him in. He didn’t even have time to think about all the eyes on him when he entered the bar and ran through the double doors to the gym and toward the back.

  Tracey waited for him at the loading dock when he opened the door. Slipping inside, she rubbed her hands together, blowing on them. “Get me a bourbon, neat.”

  Leaving Tracey to find her way ringside, where a few of the fighters congregated, chatting it up before the first match began, he went into the bar.

  The warmth of the room fogged the frosted windows, cigar smoke hanging in the air like a hazy blue cloud. Doc ignored him when he put the candy dish under the bar and dumped the lollipops inside for Reed to find and tossed out the bag. He snagged an old-fashioned glass and the bourbon, poured a couple fingers, sensing Doc’s eyes on him on his way back to the gym.

  Tracey hung out with a couple of the fighters Jamie didn’t know by name, asking them about their holiday plans and whether they were coming to The Asylum’s Christmas celebration next week. Seeing her acting all normal, the members relaxed and laughing at something she said, twisted his brain. He handed her the bourbon and went to find Noah and warn him.

  Doc met him at the door, his gaze going over Jamie’s shoulder. He tried to step by, but the man didn’t move, cold delight frosting his expression. “Yes. This should be interesting.”

  He opened his mouth to ask to be let past.

  Doc’s gaze lowered to his face. “Oh, do speak to me, please. I would love to go to Noah with that bit of information.”

  Jamie snapped his jaw shut.

  Thanks, asshole.

  “Not that he would do anything, so I suppose you’re safe enough.” Doc’s eyes iced over. “Too bad you’ll never know what it is to be a real submissive.”