Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  Sticking close to his side, Wren jutted his chin toward the bar. “Let’s go back there. There’s too many people. Noah doesn’t let me stay out where there’s crowds.”

  Jamie stood on his tiptoes, following and trying to find Jared as he waded through the crowd, glancing at the bar clock. He slumped. Fuck. He was fucked. Two minutes to go and no sign of the man. “I’ll never find him.”

  At his stool a few feet away, Lawson stood, making his way toward them. “Nice of you both to join us. It’s difficult to see over everyone when you’re not that tall, but Jared’s behind the bar with Curtis. Come, I’ll clear you a path.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Throwing him a grateful smile, Jamie kept close, tugging Wren along. The deep burgundy cuff of his sweater contrasting with the green of Wren’s. “Are you and Matt looking forward to your first Christmas together, sir?”

  Tapping a big Dom—who’d somehow found a full-out leather Santa outfit—on the shoulder, Lawson gave the man a pleasant smile when he moved, working his way through the crowd while glancing back to make sure he didn’t lose them. “Very much so. Tracey’s been grilling me on every interest he has. If I wasn’t careful, I’d have had no options left for my own gifts. But I suppose there are some things she wouldn’t consider.” He waved Jamie and Wren behind the bar. “There you go. Wren, you have the night off so don’t start cleaning anything. But stick close to here. Mind what Noah warned you about.”

  Wren nodded, seeming to breathe a little easier as he settled on a stool, but he eyed the dirty dishes like they offended him.

  Laughter, the clink of bottles, all the sounds of the bar made an upbeat kind of music around him, along with the corny Christmas songs. But something was missing. He imagined Noah’s laugh—his deep chuckle, his more rare delighted belly laugh, and the short-sharp ironic sound he made. None of those were present, but he heard them. Like they were right up against his ear.

  Jared snapping his fingers brought him back to reality. “Acknowledged.”

  Looking up, Jamie breathed his, “Thank you, sir,” then returned to Wren at the other end of the bar. Held out the gift he’d gotten for Wren, the holiday spirit almost a lifeline. “Here. It’s not a huge thing, but I hope you like it. I wrapped it myself.”

  Eyes lighting up, Wren opened the gift, careful with the shiny red and gold wrapping. A big grin spreading across his lips as he took in the horror movie collection—special ordered from a movie buff Jamie knew in L.A. who’d said it contained the must-haves of any true fan of the genre.

  “Oh wow, this is awesome! Some of these are my very favorites I haven’t been able to find in years.” Wren gazed up at Jamie, lashes a little wet. “Thank you, Jamie.”

  “Present time!” Hopping up on the bar, wearing what looked like a Frosty the Snowman onesie, Reed slid, grabbing bottles to keep from knocking them over, then jumping down. He put the bottles in the case of empties, straightening to pull two small boxes out of his pockets. Handed one to each of them. “Everyone else got theirs. I made them myself.”

  Holding the box in his fingers, Jamie looked up at Reed. “I left yours upstairs for tomorrow if I get to go. But I can head up and grab it now, maybe?” He stood, ready to move out from behind the bar.

  Reed shook his head. “Naw, give it to me tomorrow. I couldn’t wait anymore. They were just sitting there. I gave Lawson his, but he refused to open it early. Don’t do that. Open!”

  “Okay.” Jamie grinned at Wren. “One...two...three!”

  He and Wren opened the boxes at the same time. Lifting a small charm from the cotton lining, he dangled it, examining it in the sparkly light. The little page had the lyrics from one of his fave Glam songs on it, one he whistled all the time in the bar.

  Leaping to his feet, he threw his arms around Reed, then stepped back suddenly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean... It’s just so nice. Thank you so much. I can’t believe you made this. You’re amazing.”

  “Dude, did you just apologize for hugging me? Don’t be ridiculous, it’s Christmas and there are supposed to be hugs.” Reed tugged him in for another. “And Tracey helped a little. She made me do all the work, but she knows about stuff like this so when I told her the idea, she figured out how to make it happen.” He wrinkled his nose. “She texted me to say I’d forgotten the leather thong that goes with them to use for, like, a necklace or bracelet, but I’ll give you them tomorrow.”

  Holding up his own charm, Wren grinned. “An anatomically correct heart. This is really neat, Reed. Thank you.” He stood from his stool, inching forward. “Hugs are weird, but I guess since it’s Christmas it’s okay.”

  Reed rolled his eyes and hugged Wren. “Weird isn’t bad. It’s why we like you. Now please tell me you two aren’t just hiding here all night. It’s a party!”

  “It’s, um, okay. We’re just reminiscing and stuff about...about Noah. Want to tell us your favorite memory of him?” Jamie plunked himself down on a milk crate, looking to Wren.

  He had to stay with him, and Wren was doing him a favor by being down here in the first place. Staying put didn’t bother him. The energy around him was more hectic than anything he’d experienced in days and days. Being back here made sense in a way, with Doc and Curtis scurrying around, serving drinks.

  “Lawson, tell them about the time you tried to make a roast chicken to surprise Noah for his birthday.” Curtis called to Lawson, overhearing the conversation as he put together a frozen margarita.

  Lawson looked up from the ledger he’d opened on the bar, his tone dry. “I’m not sure how that’s an interesting story. I burnt it. I didn’t know how to use a stove at the time. That’s...improved since. Somewhat.”

  Popping a bar nut into the air, Curtis caught it in his mouth, smiling at Lawson as he chewed. “But he ate it. Every damned bite. Then bought you a cookbook.”

  “Which I think he regifted to Matt.” Reed snickered, bouncing up on the edge of the bar and pulling a lollipop out of somewhere. “Who makes damn good chicken. Now we know why Garret’s so tall.”

  Jamie snickered. “He ate my tall genes.”

  “Yours and Wren’s both. I swear, Noah went from collecting big dudes to the complete opposite.” Reed drew up one dangling leg and set it on the opposite knee. “Maybe he figured out he likes ‘em all cute and cuddly.”

  Watching Curtis go through the motions of making three drinks in rapid succession, biceps flexing as he lifted and poured, reached and mixed, Jamie wondered at the contrast between himself and the man. Would there come a time when he didn’t fit Noah’s life anymore? Or maybe be a little too familiar to be interesting? He looked at Doc, who went in and out of the kitchen, putting together food orders.

  Spoke aloud without really thinking. “Were you and Curtis good submissives, Lawson?”

  Almost knocking over the glass of beer Curtis set in front of him, Lawson slanted Jamie a look. “Only when it was painful not to be. Debating one’s Dom tends to be frowned on, which became a habit of mine over time. And Curtis doesn’t dislike soap as much as he enjoys being creative with the use of insults.”

  Curtis’s lips slanted at that. “Soap’s not so bad. I think my taste buds might be dead though, so what do I know?”

  “Impossible. You know I’m the tastiest thing ever.” Reed pulled the lollipop from his mouth and gave Curtis a sly smile. “And it’s not all sugar.”

  Swooping in, Curtis licked Reed’s neck, making an appreciative sound. “He has a point. Damned delicious.”

  Tone almost too quiet to be heard over the music, Wren leaned close to Jamie. “See what I mean. If you were on the bar like that, you’d be in so much trouble. But I think Reed’s allergic to chairs. And sitting still. And not finding any possible surface a good place to sit when he stops moving.”

  Tipping his head back, Jamie studied Reed before speaking close to Wren’s ear. “I was thinking last night, when I couldn’t sleep… They knew him when they were all a lot younger. Lawson, Curtis, Reed. And kids do lots of things
like that and adults let them. They probably don’t think of it as anything other than Reed being who they always knew. Yeah?”

  Wren’s head tilted as he nodded slowly. “That makes sense. And no other Dom’s gonna get on his case about it. Noah would flay them alive. Which would be fascinating to watch.”

  “Totally.” Watching Noah in his element, all power and muscle, was a truly awesome sight to behold. Fingers running over the red velvet bag in his lap, he huddled closer to Wren. “Want to see it?”

  Expression going soft, Wren nodded. Then held up a finger and glanced at the clock. “That was fast. Five minutes. You have time to show me, but we can’t forget.”

  He nodded, slipping the drawstring open on the bag. “Thanks. I actually totally forgot.”

  “It’s okay. I’m pretty good at remembering stuff like that.” Wren ducked his head. “And we’re a team tonight. I won’t let you get in trouble, I promise.”

  “Thank you. My butt doesn’t have any nerve endings left.” He shifted on the milk crate’s plastic grid, dumping the cuff out of the bag into his fingers and handing it to Wren.

  The hammered silver glinted as Wren brushed his fingers over the heavy rolled edges that would keep the metal from cutting into Noah’s wrist. He examined the detailed lion’s head engraved on the underside, then held it out as though picturing it on Noah’s wrist, a wistful smile on his lips.

  Jamie cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to, you know, put any words on the inside in case... It’d be a shame for him not to want to wear it any more just because he…” He looked at Curtis, who worked the blender. “Anyway. I hope it’s not too much.”

  Tip of his tongue between his teeth, Wren shook his head. “He’s going to love this. And stop thinking things are gonna go bad. In prison he mentioned...well, he never brought subs home with him really. And if he did, they didn’t stay long. He’s...honest. You’re different, Jamie. You wouldn’t still be here if you weren’t. Everyone knows it, whether they like it or not.”

  Feet in shoes he’d polished to a high gloss appeared in his view and he snapped his head up. Stood and lowered his gaze. Leaning down, Doc took the cuff from Wren, examining it in his fingers, rolling it this way and that. Curtis paused by him, looking from the cuff to Lawson. Jamie bit his bottom lip, fingers curling against the urge to snatch the cuff away.

  “It’s a lovely gift.” Holding out the cuff, Doc patted him on the shoulder as Jamie took it. Then walked away to fulfill another order, calling, “You’re fine as long as you’re behind the bar.”

  Letting out a sigh of relief, Wren leaned back. “I was about to tell him you still have thirty seconds and… I’m really glad I didn’t have to. He wouldn’t have been happy. That was close.”

  “I guess it really is Christmas.” Jamie laughed, catching Curtis’s curious glances, and sobered. “Would you like to look at it, sir?” He held out the cuff, but Curtis shook his head, going back to making drinks.

  “I do!” Reed glided off the bar, thunking his knees on the ground as he slid forward to avoid tripping Curtis when he sidled by. He sat on the floor beside Jamie, smiling softly as he took in the cuff. “Okay, I totally saw it already, but I wanted another look. It’s still perfect. Even Blain said so and he’s good at matching people with stuff.”

  “I hope it fits.” One wrist in to test the size made it obvious he could probably manage to get in both with room to spare. But that didn’t tell him much. He wouldn’t know for sure until...until Noah came home. Which didn’t look likely to happen tonight. Mood dampening, he took the bag, slipping the cuff back inside. “Would you be totally upset if I went to bed, Wren?”

  Wren stood, shaking his head. “No, I’ll head up too. It feels weird not working, but it was fun hanging out. I’m glad Doc’s letting me see you. I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.” Walking around the bar, Jamie waved to Reed. “See you tomorrow maybe?”

  “Wait.” Wren grabbed Jamie’s arm, tugging him back. “You should tell Doc you’re leaving. He said you didn’t have to check in so long as we were behind the bar, but if you’re going upstairs, you definitely won’t be there—unless you’re going to set an alarm, then forget I said anything. But that seems like it would be really tricky, trying to get back down here and through the crowd in time.”

  Made sense, except he didn’t want to flag down Doc, who stood across the room taking a bunch of orders and didn’t look likely to be back here anytime soon. “Ugh. Yeah. I mean yes. I know you’re right.” Handing the velvet bag to Wren, he motioned for him to stay put. Began shoving through the crowd.

  “Well, that didn’t last long.” A Dom stood in his way. “Want to dance, fancy boy?”

  Oh, shit.

  Jamie kept his gaze respectfully lowered as he tried to step around the man, whose leather vest had greasy smudges, like he’d eaten an order of Reed’s wings and used his clothing as a napkin. The man blocked his path, stepping the way he stepped, then laughed, looking up. Jamie followed his gaze. To the mistletoe he and Reed had jokingly hung, hoping to catch Curtis and Noah underneath.

  Face heating, he froze.

  “Caught.” The man wrapped his hand around Jamie’s jaw to force his face up, sour breath coming closer as Jamie struggled to turn his head away. Pressed his hands against the man’s beefy pecs, shoving at him.

  Marks. There are going to be marks on my jaw. I am in so much fucking trouble.

  The man yelped and suddenly Wren was dragging Jamie closer to the bar, while Lawson blocked the man. When the man slammed a hand into Lawson’s chest, he didn’t budge, but his lips tightened slightly, just the barest evidence that he was still in pain. But had no intention of backing down.

  Vaulting over the bar, Curtis landed with a heavy thud of boots, stepping between Lawson and the other Dom. “You think you can touch Noah’s property just because he’s not here, I suggest you think again, Everet.”

  “He ain't wearing no collar.” The Dom pointed at Jamie, getting heads to turn.

  Lip curling, Jamie yanked his sweater over his head. Tossed it to the bar, his other hand curved around the metal at his throat. “It’s right flipping here.”

  Everet’s hands went up. “My bad. No hard feelings, right Law? Just too much punch and a little Christmas cheer.”

  “Of course.” Lawson’s eyes narrowed. “Which is why you’ll be seeing yourself out now. Your membership will be under review. I’ll give it careful consideration, naturally.”

  Moving fast, Wren disappeared under a few arms, practically falling on his face as he returned, shoving Jamie’s sweater at him. “Put this back on. And don’t try to take the blame. I stepped on his foot. You didn’t do anything wrong. Except take off your shirt. But now you’re putting it back on. Maybe no one noticed.”

  Shoving his head back through the top of the sweater, Jamie jammed his arms in, still glaring at Everet’s retreating back as Curtis returned to the bar, giving him a look. “You couldn’t fight your own battle there, boy-o? What were all those lessons for, anyway?”

  Wren visibly ground his teeth, but simply glared at the floor, breathing in sharp little bursts.

  Probably a T-shirt would’ve been better, considering the heat that rushed over Jamie’s skin. Grabbing Wren’s hand, he ducked his head. “I’m sorry, sir. I was just leaving. If it pleases you, sir, would you let Doc know I went to bed?”

  “Nicely done, Jamie.” Doc spoke behind him. His head shot up in time for him to catch Doc’s cold look at Curtis. “Stay by Lawson. Wren, behind the bar, if you please. Curtis is going up to bed.”

  Eyes wide, Wren’s lips opened and closed a few times. He pressed them shut, then nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  “I’m not your sub, Jared.” Curtis stepped aside to let Wren pass as Jamie moved closer to Lawson.

  “Oh no?” Doc canted his head. “I seem to recall how to make you kneel.”

  Looking between them, Lawson’s jaw worked. “Head up, Curtis. I think you’re worn
out. And we need to be at Tracey’s early tomorrow.” He rubbed his chest, clearing his throat. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Curtis held Doc’s gaze for a moment, then jerked his head, moving around the bar. Stilled when Doc stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

  Speaking low, Doc stared Curtis down. “You don’t have to like him. You don’t have to want anyone else to like him, but you will fucking protect him.”

  Red crept up Curtis’s neck. “Get out of my way.”

  “So long as we understand each other.” Doc held his stare a moment longer, then stepped aside.

  Curtis stormed out of the bar, cutting close enough for Jamie’s skin to prickle with the anger sparking off him like a stormfront.

  Stunned, he watched Doc join Wren behind the bar and place both hands on Wren’s shoulders with an approving smile. “Good job, boy. Very good job.”

  Blinking fast, Wren lowered his gaze. “Thank you, sir. But I really should have done it harder. He can still walk.”

  Doc’s bark of laughter carried across the bar as conversation returned to its pre-drama levels. “We’ll work on that.”

  “Well, that sucked,” Jamie muttered, fiddling with the velvet bag Wren handed him over the bar before sliding him a root beer.

  One hand rubbing under his nose, Wren nodded. “I’ve never had anyone do that to me. That was...not a fun jump scare. What if he’d had a knife and stabbed you? I mean, it would be interesting to see, but not if it’s you.”

  Jamie laughed despite himself. Fighters drifted from the ring, wearing Santa outfits—an apparent prerequisite for any challengers tonight. That and elf outfits. Bells. There were lots of bells. Through the doors he could see Matt in his role as referee, glancing toward the bar whenever the door opened.

  “Do you need any ice, sir?” Jamie leaned closer to Lawson.

  Smiling at him, Lawson shook his head. “No, I’m fine, but that’s very thoughtful of you, Jamie. Thank you.” He reached out to brush his fingers along Jamie’s jaw. “You could use some though. Reed, stop tearing napkins and get Jamie an ice pack.”