Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  His phone rang and he checked the number. Unlisted. This wasn’t a coincidence. Doc hadn’t been here just to make sure he was taking his pills. He lowered to the chair and answered. “Should I be flattered that you’re keeping tabs on me?”

  Rhodey let out a quiet laugh. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Seemed much more civil then showing up and scaring the hell out of your man when I dump you out of bed to interrogate you.”

  I might need to make my gun more accessible.

  “I appreciate it.” Lawson inhaled slowly, stomach muscles tensing at the tug in his side. “Now, where’s Noah?”

  “You know he’s with me.”

  “Where?”

  “Safe. That’s all you need to know.” Rhodey paused. “What I need to know is what happened between you. He’d been hesitant about returning to The Asylum, but this is worse than I expected.”

  The concern in Rhodey’s voice eased Lawson’s fear for his mentor and...once friend. Maybe family was what Noah needed. A family Lawson was no longer part of.

  So he gave the man everything he needed to know. Explained every interaction. Gave every detail that might be of use.

  And Rhodey was silent for a long time after.

  “Is that all?” Lawson needed to go to the bar. See Curtis. Be near Matt and Reed, hell, even Doc. Try to forget what he’d been hoping for when Noah returned. To ignore that it felt like they were losing him all over again.

  “No, Lawson. That’s not all. Your warning… You made it clear he had to watch his back. He’s fresh out of prison and that seemed like a good idea?” Rhodey let out a rough, irritated sound. “Nevermind his training, or what he’s capable of. In the prison yard he’d be given warnings like that. You made yourself a potential threat. If he didn’t love you so much, he’d have killed you by now.”

  Throat tightening, Lawson nodded. He’d expected as much. Bowing his head, he closed his eyes. “I just want him to fucking come home.”

  “He doesn’t believe he has one anymore.”

  “He’s wrong.”

  “I hope so, boy. I really do.” Rhodey paused. His tone went cold. “Because once I’ve broken him down, I won’t be able to build him back up alone.”

  Lips parting, Lawson realized the line had been disconnected. He stared at his phone as the minutes passed. There was no way to find Noah. No way to stop Rhodey. If the Noah who’d returned from prison hadn’t been broken…

  Who the fuck will be coming back to us now?

  Chapter Seventeen

  He hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

  When Jamie woke up it was morning. The way he sprawled across the bed sideways, one foot dangling off the edge, the other pointing toward the headboard registered and he knew Noah wasn’t with him—likely hadn’t returned last night. Which wasn’t something to worry about. The man slept on the sofa sometimes, creeping out in the middle of the night when he thought Jamie wasn’t awake to notice.

  Stretching, he yawned and rolled his head to look at the clock. Six-thirty a.m. Matt would be downstairs making coffee. He started to get out of bed and frowned. If Noah hadn’t returned, that meant he hadn’t been released from the bed. Shit. His bladder was fucking full. Chewing his lip, he tried to think what Wren would do.

  Would a good submissive ruin an expensive mattress before he disobeyed an order? He didn’t have a fucking clue.

  He scrubbed his hands over his face and stilled when a yellow sticky caught his eye. The scrap of paper lay on Noah’s pillow. A note.

  “Great.” Though he supposed it was better than being trapped on the bed without a literal pot to piss in, reading anything before he had coffee made him feel like Lawson. The alphabet should be illegal until at least noon.

  Reaching out, he grabbed the paper between his fingers. Thankfully, only two lines scrawled across it, short enough that he could use his fingers to form the little window that made the letters stop bouncing around.

  Puzzling out the words had become easier since Noah had started working with him. Ensconced with his back against Noah, so he felt every rise and fall of Noah’s chest, he read out loud, Noah praising his efforts and gently correcting his mistakes. It was their special routine every night.

  Except last night...

  Shoving away the unease that came with remembering how empty Noah’s eyes had been when he’d left the loft, Jamie focused on deciphering the note.

  Shower, dress, and come down to the bar.

  We need to talk.

  His stomach skittered sideways like it looked for a hole to hide in, and Jamie swallowed hard. If Noah wasn’t willing to talk to him in the loft, did that mean he was in for a public punishment for eavesdropping? He didn’t think so, but something about the note was off, its tone more like the man he’d known when he’d first come to The Asylum.

  Fisting the paper, he crumpled it into a tight ball and climbed out of bed. If he’d ruined the one good thing to come out of the entire mess with Glam and Trevor by not being able to keep his trap shut, he’d find one of those gags in Noah’s toy bag to stuff in his own mouth. Swearing to himself, he showered then dressed as fast as he could, almost tripping over his sneakers when he didn’t tie them in his haste. Keeping Noah waiting would only make things worse.

  He nearly tripped again over his neatly folded clothes, Noah’s wool coat on top, when he stepped from the bedroom. Grinning, he shook his head. Freakin’ Wren. The sky had begun to lighten, the loft a muted gray outside the windows, only a strip of dark showed under Wren’s door. The guy must’ve been up pretty late playing houseboy.

  Sighing, knowing he only delayed the inevitable, Jamie looped his own forefinger in the ring at his throat and pulled himself forward. “C’mon boy.”

  His lips slanted as he pictured Noah doing the same.

  New enough not to feel like a second skin, his collar weighed around his neck like a hug, reminding him of Noah when he swallowed. When he looked in the mirror, it was the fucking sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He’d already decided that if he went back to music he’d wear it, fuck what anyone thought. Picturing the headlines, he smirked and made his way downstairs.

  Noah might be upset with him, but he’d always been fair, even during the rare times he’d given Jamie a few swats, dusting his ass like it had lingering crumbs. Nothing like the spanking he’d been given that first day. If he were honest with himself, he missed the tighter constriction of the Noah he’d first known. But they played different games now, in the dungeon and out, and he didn’t want to lose Noah’s playful, tender side either.

  In the bar, Curtis drank coffee at Lawson’s seat closest to the stairs, bringing Jamie up short. Dude never sat there. Hell, nobody did. Except Lawson.

  The reminder that the Dom still recovered upstairs, Matt taking care of him, along with Doc who seemed to move like a wraith between his loft and Lawson’s, brought back Friday night and the way Noah had efficiently, brutally, brought down his opponent. A chill crackled up Jamie’s spine, not for the first time, at the thought. Whatever trouble he was in, he hoped Noah never looked at him that way. Like he saw him as a job to do, a threat to dispatch.

  Looking up from his phone, Curtis pulled out the stool next to his and patted it. “Join me.”

  Jamie looked around the bar, noted the locked gym doors and the wide-open office door. “Where’s Noah? He wanted me to come downstairs.”

  Curtis’s lips thinned. “Sit.”

  Sighing, Jamie did what the man wanted, if only because he didn’t want Noah to come back and find him arguing with a Dom. He might not know much, but he knew submissives were not supposed to do that. Pushing himself up by his heel on the footrest, he sat. The coffee maker sizzled softly across the counter, wind rattling the door to the bar.

  Curtis considered him for a while, one elbow perched on the bartop. Circles under his eyes, rims red, he looked like he hadn’t slept for a week. When he finally spoke, it was with a firm nod. “You’ll be answering to me for a few weeks. I’ll look out for you an
d make sure you have what you need.”

  Jamie blinked. “Huh?”

  Pushing his fingers through his hair, Curtis glanced to the weird empty spots above the bar. “Noah had to go away, unexpectedly, and he told me to watch out for you.”

  Laughter gusted from him. “Like fuck he did.”

  “Excuse you?” Brown eyes cut to his face, and Curtis’s hand dropped from his hair to the bar. He rapped once. “You get one chance to amend that smart mouth, because I don’t think you know exactly where the lines are.”

  He didn’t know what was going on here, but he did know Noah wouldn’t have wanted Curtis to go all Uber-Dom on his ass.

  Fingers going to his collar, Jamie let the rounded metal edge dig into his flesh. “Who left the note on the bed?”

  “‘Who left the note on the bed’…?” Curtis canted his head, one brow raised.

  Slipping off the stool, Jamie walked away. Noah hadn’t said he could leave the room or the bed. It had been Curtis. Probably working with Doc to make Noah even more pissed at him than he already was. Everyone here had it out for him just because he was Noah’s boy.

  Well, newsflash, I’m not playing into their hands.

  Before he reached the door, Curtis was there, blocking him. Snapping his fingers, he pointed to the stool. “Sit. I won’t tell you again.”

  A door opened at the top of the stairs. Jamie didn’t have to turn to know by the unselfconsciously stealthy footsteps Doc was on his way down.

  Shit. Can this morning get any worse?

  Not wanting to get trapped between the two men, Jamie glared and skirted around Curtis to resume his seat at the bar. Doc walked in as he sat, glancing between him and Curtis, his expression curious.

  “As I was saying.” Curtis spun the stool around, forcing Jamie to face him squarely. “Your Dom left me in charge of you. When The Asylum is open, you’ll stay in the loft. Dungeon, bar, and ring are off-limits. You’ll speak to only me, Lawson, Matt, Ez, Wren, and Reed. Got it?”

  Thank fuck he left Doc off the list.

  Still, he didn’t really care if the man only allowed him to talk to his own fucking reflection. There was only one thing he cared about, and that was getting a straight answer to his own questions.

  Inhaling deep, Jamie spoke through clenched teeth. “Where is Noah?”

  A wry smile twisted Curtis’s lips, never reaching his eyes. “We can sit here all day. By all means, keep it up.”

  “Fine.” If it would get him the answers he wanted, he’d lick the man’s ass and big hairy balls. “Where is Noah, sir?”

  A million answers flashed through Curtis’s eyes, his face ten-fold more expressive than Noah’s. Unless you knew how to read the man. “He had to go with his uncle to take care of something.”

  Arms crossed over his chest, Doc leaned against the back bar and watched his little drama with Curtis unfold. The two men shared a glance. Doc nodded once, as if approving whatever line Curtis had drawn in the sand. Irritation, and not a small amount of fear, skipped up the back of Jamie’s neck. He hadn’t thought Curtis was a bad guy, but the idea of Noah leaving him alone with anyone for a day, much less weeks, stunk to high heaven.

  “When will he be back…” Mother fucking fuck. “Sir?”

  Another glance between Curtis and Doc. An entire wordless conversation, before Curtis returned his gaze to the spot over the bar. “When he’s ready.”

  Gaze narrowing, Jamie leaned in, drawing the Dom’s attention. “You’re full of shit, asshole.”

  The slap struck his cheek in a blur. Sharp pain, a thunderclap of light and sound, snapping his head to the side. Tasting rust, vision blurred, Jamie gasped, heat blooming across his cheek.

  Shock coursed across Curtis’s features, parting his lips and freezing him into position, hand raised.

  Jamie pushed off the stool. Ran blindly to the stairwell. Up, not stopping until he reached Noah’s loft. Fingers shaking, he threw open the door, locking it behind him. Wren, in the kitchen, polishing cloth in hand, watched him tear through the living room as Curtis’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. He ducked into the bedroom, locking the door there as well. Jammed a chair underneath the handle. Air rasping in and out of his lungs, pulse galloping, wild, he scanned the room.

  Noah’s closet. There has to be something in there…

  Yanking open the double doors, he rummaged through the special drawers lined with the implements Noah most liked to torture him with. Came up with one he’d used only once. For endless hours of fucking and blowjobs, languid sex, and rough words. The long, sturdy chain, attached to a locking cuff, clinked noisily in his hands.

  Nobody was going to make him betray his man. Whatever Doc and Curtis had done with Noah, whenever he could return, he’d find Jamie right where he’d left him.

  Looping the chain through the sturdy iron rings twice over, he located the key in the silk pouch as Curtis tried the door. “Jamie, I’m… Shit. Let me in, boy.”

  Unable to speak around the panic in his throat, Jamie fumbled the key. It spun through the air and slipped through a crack in the floorboards. Watching it disappear, he laughed.

  Fucking perfect. Fate’s on my side for once.

  The chain reached to the bathroom. He knew it did because Noah had refused to let him out of the restraints for that whole delicious day. Clapping the cuff around his wrist, he heard it snick safely shut. Moved to the side of the bed, tearing off his shoes and clothes as he went, ripping his shirt to get it around the cuff.

  Breaths calming, he climbed onto the bed, pulled Noah’s pillow to him, and curled up on his side. Curtis’s pounding at the door became more insistent. Then stopped. A few minutes later two sets of footsteps returned. He caught the words, “You’re the one who installed a goddamn steel safety door,” from Doc, and Curtis’s answering curse.

  Jamie’s lips curved upward. Noah would give him a high fucking five. He was the best submissive ever. No matter what anyone said. He’d showed them.

  Curled up under the duvet that smelled like Noah’s soap, his face pressed into the man’s pillow, he let himself drift, secure in the knowledge that there was very little anyone could do to invade his world. Like the times he had armed guards posted outside his suite door in some of the less-safe cities, or when his alarm system was fully on and he’d double-checked it before bed.

  He used to feel that way about The Asylum’s gates…

  Exhaustion made his eyelids flutter.

  Before...

  Rocking invaded his subconscious, blending into a dream where Noah loomed over him, pushing gently past his body’s resistance, fucking him slow and deep. He bubbled to the edge of sleep, trying to sink again as the dream burst, spraying cold reality over his awareness. He was in Noah’s bed, and Noah wasn’t there.

  But someone was…

  He sat up fast enough that he cracked his skull against someone else’s.

  “Ow.”

  “Reed?” Rubbing his head, he pushed up with one hand to sit against the headboard. The chain at his wrist clanked, bringing Reed’s attention to the restraint. “How’d you get in here?”

  Hands braced behind him, Reed shrugged. “Lawson picked the lock. I’m your ambastard.”

  Jamie took in the guy’s bare chest and pajama pants, and figured Curtis must’ve pulled him from some mundane task, or maybe one of the comic books he always seemed to have in his fingers. The chair he’d shoved under the door tilted sideways against the dresser, the back a little bent. He must’ve been rocking the sex in that wet dream, because he hadn’t heard a thing.

  “Ambastard?” He screwed up his face, unfamiliar with the word.

  “Like ambassador? Dude, come on. Really?”

  “Oh.” He laughed, passing a hand over his sleep-doped face, wincing when his fingers passed over his tender cheek. His gaze skipped to the door again as his stomach clenched. Shit. So much for safety. “Is there gonna be some kind of treaty or something to save my ass?”

  Reed inhaled s
lowly. “That… Curtis shouldn’t have slapped you. He’s…” He lowered his voice. “Kinda fucked up right now. Everyone is.”

  Jamie tugged the covers up higher, needing to put a layer of protection between himself and whoever lurked outside the door. Doc, maybe. Or no one. He couldn’t tell. Still, with the chain on his wrist, they couldn’t make him leave the bed, and it wasn’t like he could give them the key. Nervous laughter skipped past his lips.

  “Yeah. I kinda noticed.” He looked toward the closet, which he’d left open, toys and drawers in disarray. “Would have to be for Noah to run away from the assholes.” He lifted his chin, meeting Reed’s gaze. “But I’m going to be right where he left me when he comes back to kick their asses.”

  Groaning, Reed sat up and rubbed both hands over his face. “Holy shit, you seriously think Noah would run from anything? Buddy, his uncle came for him. Like...that’s bad. Bad, bad. You get me?”

  “Did someone die?” Whenever his parents showed up, it tended to be because something like that happened. “I mean, I’m glad to know he didn’t run away, because I couldn’t think of another reason he’d ditch me, but… Maybe the stuff with Ez—” His eyes went wide and he bit his lip.

  Shit. Can I not keep my mouth shut for five minutes?

  “Ez? What does my brother have to do with anything? Noah grabbed Curtis’s fucking gun and was gonna start taking out the…” He frowned. “Did… Did he tell you something? About why he’d wanna kill them all…? He just...snapped.”

  Oh God.

  Cold dread gnawed at his middle, eating a hole. The stuff he’d told Noah, about Ezran and Mitch, sparked off whatever had gone down. “A gun?”

  The only firearms he had ever seen were on his protection officers or a movie set. Anniston Falls was a world away from the safe confines of his plush Malibu home and the heavily guarded recording studios and clubs he tended to frequent.

  “I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me. I know I shouldn’t talk about it.” He pleaded with Reed with his level gaze, hoping the touch of sincerity, the openness he let show, worked as well on the man as it did hordes of screaming girls. Because he seriously couldn’t take losing another ally in this place.