Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  Realizing he’d leaned into Lawson’s hand like a heat-seeking missile, Jamie jerked back as Reed scooted off the bar, a trail of napkin pieces fluttering to the floor as he slipped into the galley. He returned with a gel ice pack, coming around to their side of the bar.

  Under his eyes were rimmed with red. “I’m sorry, Jamie. I would’ve come to help, but both Lawson and Curtis gave me that look that said I wasn’t allowed to do anything. I’d have broken that dude’s dick.”

  He took the ice pack, giving Reed’s fingers a little squeeze. “It’s totally cool. Neither of you could have gotten to me faster than Wren. He’s little. Curtis knows that. It’s just a...misunderstanding.” Lying through his teeth was totally okay on Christmas. Even animals could talk, just like the jackass, Everet, who Lawson had just thrown out of the bar. “I’m glad he’s getting rest, though. He’s been running around with us nonstop all week, yeah?”

  “Totally.” Reed pressed Jamie’s hand with the ice pack to his face, then looked over at Lawson. “Should I get your pain meds, sir? Matt told me where he keeps them and—”

  “No” Doc cut him off. “He’s been drinking. I don’t want to have to do liver surgery this weekend.”

  Lawson inclined his head. “There is that. And I also don’t need them. Go clean up your mess, Reed. Stop fussing, I get enough of that from Matt.”

  “Reed?” Jamie kept hold of the other man’s hand when he turned to go. “Can I have a lollipop?”

  He might as well have asked Reed if he wanted a million dollars, tax-free. Reed grinned, nodded, then did a hop-glide over the bar, going way too fast and almost face-planting on the other side. He came up with a handful of different colors, all the specialty kinds he’d gotten from the candy shop. “These make everything better. What’s your poison?”

  He grinned, sharing a knowing look with Reed. “Root beer.”

  “Good choice.” Reed plunked the rest in his pocket and handed Jamie a big, round, rich brown colored one. Then he glanced over at Wren. “Want one?”

  Wren served a Dom who was gesturing to his friend with a candy cane sucked to a sharp point, leaving the drink almost too far for the man to reach, his face a little pale. “No thank you.”

  The Dom with the candy cane and his friends amused themselves with ordering more drinks and trying to get Wren closer. All the color had left his face and he looked ready to make a run for it, but he was struggling to keep doing his job. He almost tripped backward over his own feet when the Dom held out the candy and offered to let him lick it.

  Doc caught him, setting him down at the other end of the bar with a stern look and began serving the candy cane addict.

  “Wren…” Jamie motioned him closer.

  Wren approached him, swallowing over and over. “Did you want a different drink? I can make you a Shirley Temple. Just be careful with the cherry.”

  “No thanks. I was just curious…” He leaned forward. “Little or big in here tonight?”

  Clearly confused, Wren shook his head. “What?”

  “Without Noah. Is it little or big in here tonight?”

  With a slow inhale, Wren hunched his shoulders. “It’s...different. Like the prison yard before Noah made deals. Or the main area in every block. Like...wide. It’s too wide.”

  “Loose, Wren. The security was tight around you.” Lawson spoke softly, giving Wren a sad smile. “Without him here, that security is slackening and it’s reminding you of every time you didn’t have it. But you’re not alone. Either of you. Noah taught you there were other people you could trust there. The same goes for here. You’re safe. Whatever you think you see, just know you’re safe.”

  “Safe.” Jamie smiled at Wren, needing to reassure them both. Lawson and Wren. “It’s going to be okay. It’s all okay.”

  Wren’s smile was a little forced. “Yes...it’s safe here. Noah made sure it would be, but…” He shook his head, meeting Jamie’s eyes. “Lawson’s right. It’s like everything’s...loose. It wasn’t when he came back, it was...maybe tangled, but good, you know?”

  Doc cut Lawson a look. “That’s it. Enough is enough. It’s Christmas. That bastard. I swear.”

  Lifting his glass, Lawson nodded. “Agreed.”

  Wallet in hand, Doc slid a card out. Grabbed the phone, dialed, then held it to his ear before nodding once and handing it to Jamie.

  Frowning at him, Jamie took the phone, plugging his opposite ear with his finger. “Hello?”

  “If there’s another disaster there, I can’t help you.” The voice was deep, tone direct. “And this clearly isn’t Jared. Make it quick. If he’s gotten himself in a situation he can’t handle, everyone there is dead.”

  Jamie blinked, frowning at Doc, who stood with his arms folded. “No. He wanted… It’s Christmas. Merry Christmas, sir…” He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “Is… Can I tell him Merry Christmas?”

  At first there was silence. Then a heavy sigh. “No. And if you’re going to cry, I’m hanging up. He’s making progress. There’s no pause for holidays. You wouldn’t want that—it would take much longer. But he’s asked to talk to you every day, if this is who I think it is. Hope that helps.”

  A smile warred with the tears that refused not to roll down his face, but he didn’t dare so much as sniff. “Thank you, sir. It helps. I’m raising a root beer to him. To you. I hope he’s home soon. Wren, all of us, want him home.”

  “Not like this you don’t.” Rhodey’s tone hardened. “Tell Jared to remember that one time where I made him step in. Because we were almost at that point. He’ll know what I mean. Have a good night.”

  “Yes, sir. You too.” The call disconnected before he could get the words out. He stared at the phone.

  Taking the phone, Doc handed him a fistful of napkins. “Cry now, because it won’t be allowed later.”

  For some fucked up reason, that made his tears retreat. He swiped his face, blew his nose, then tossed the napkins in the trash. Cleared his throat and took a sip of his root beer. Then another.

  Wren put a hand over his. “What did he say? Is Noah coming back soon?”

  “I’m sorry… I don’t know, Wren. He said he’s making progress.” He lifted his gaze to Jared, who ignored the members clambering for drinks at the bar. “Something about remembering the one time he made you step in and having been almost to that point.”

  Doc went a little pale, jaw working, then nodded once. Returned to serving the members their beers.

  “Was that bad?” Jamie looked between Wren and Lawson.

  Fingers pressed to his lips, Lawson shook his head. “Rhodey doesn’t say ‘almost’ for nothing. He doesn’t seem the type. He chooses his words carefully. He’s reminding Doc of something, but I’m not sure what. Whatever ‘point’ he means, Noah didn’t reach it and progress is always positive.”

  Around them, everyone laughed and joked, conversation hummed. Reed and Matt were lucky. With two Doms to turn to, even with Curtis upstairs, there was someone to watch out for them. Though the two Doms didn’t seem like the cuddly types, but neither did Matt. He eyed Reed. Wondering.

  When the sub turned toward him, Jamie nudged his chin in Reed’s direction. “Do you like cuddling, Reed?”

  Plopping off the bar into the lap of a Dom Jamie had seen around, who had a bit of a temper, a big smile, and thick muscles under light brown skin, Reed shrugged. “Nope!”

  Lawson’s brow arched as he met the other Dom’s eyes. “Behave yourself, Reed. Dallas dropping you twice would be rather embarrassing. We ask before we sit on people. And since Curtis isn’t here, you should be asking me.”

  Reed gave Lawson a sweet smile. “May I sit on Dallas, sir? If it pleases you and him and you don’t forget it’s Christmas?”

  “If you’re not bothering him, you may.” The edge of Lawson’s lips quirked. “If you are, he’s to feel free to dump you on the floor.”

  Dallas grinned, cuddling Reed closer and kissing him on the cheek. “I’ve got you, boy.”
/>
  Jamie drew his feet up on the edge of the stool, wrapping his arms around his shins, and rested his cheek on his knees, his ice pack thawing on the bar. Wren scurried around knocking tops off beer bottles, serving up drinks. They shared a smile and Jamie let his eyes drift shut, listening to the music.

  Somewhere, maybe not too far away, Noah might be thinking about them all. Had asked about him. He hadn’t been forgotten. Had been remembered. Doc—Jared—had given him that knowledge. That gift.

  And that...was the best Christmas present of all.

  Chapter Twenty

  Not a sound. Still, listening, Noah assessed the change in routine. Light coming in from the small window across the basement told him it was about seven-thirty a.m. Rhodey got him up at five-thirty a.m. Every morning, without fail.

  If he let Noah sleep at all.

  The first few nights, Rhodey had woken him in random intervals, asking him questions better suited to a therapist. Not that Noah would be forthcoming with a professional either—he was absolutely a hypocrite, telling Ezran to speak to one. But the majority of the boy’s teens hadn’t gone to reconditioning him away from a criminal lifestyle, trained in fifty-ways-to-kill-a-man-barehanded. The wrong word wouldn’t set him on auto-kill. The boy could play videogames and enjoy them, not hear a derisive voice telling him about every inaccuracy until the on-screen action brought absolutely no joy.

  Fuck, Noah wanted to go home and see Ezran, just to get some snark thrown at him. Deal with the attitude in a way that would piss off Curtis and Lawson, because they’d been working hard to get the kid to cool it. But Noah needed to see Ezran being a regular teenage boy, fearless, secure in the knowledge that he’d be loved no matter how many times he defied authority. Free to decide what kind of man he wanted to be.

  He wouldn’t have been if Noah hadn’t found him. He also wouldn’t have suffered at the hands of the enemies Noah had made. Rhodey hadn’t forced him to discuss his ‘feelings’ about the horrific assault, but for over a week he’d come down on Noah hard every time he said the boy would be better off without him. Every single muscle in Noah’s body ached from being strung up in the middle of the basement, wrists and ankles in shackles tied to ropes stretched a little further every time he repeated the same words.

  “He doesn’t need me anymore.”

  When Rhodey released him without the answer changing, Noah was confused. He’d joined Rhodey in the kitchen for lunch, wishing he could simply return to his cell. Shirt soaked with sweat from the long session, Rhodey made them both sandwiches, talking like he hadn’t spent the last few hours torturing him.

  Setting a plate in front of Noah, he’d given him a relaxed smile.

  “I’d like to spend some time with the boy.”

  There was absolutely no memory of what happened next. Black rage. Blood. Then he was bound again, snapped into awareness by the lash of the whip. And this was no safe—nevermind sane—BDSM scene. Consensual? In a way. He hadn’t tried to leave and none of the doors were locked. Not that Rhodey would let him walk away, but he could try.

  He hadn’t, because he did want to go home. The longer he was here, the more he wanted to be there. With Jamie, being a proper Dom to him, not treating his little cat like he was too fucking fragile to experience the surrender he craved. With Lawson and Curtis...though the former he’d have to find some kind of balance of power with, and the latter might never forgive him. With Reed so he could finally get to know the man he’d become, soak in the damn energy and light he wore like the sparkles he trailed absolutely everywhere. Hell, Noah didn’t even care if he got glitter on his clothes, he wanted to hug Reed and tell him to give every Dom in the place hell in his own unique way.

  Damn it, he wanted his family back, but not until he wasn’t a threat to them. The lashes on his back might hurt, but not as much as seeing the harsh red marks on Rhodey’s throat. He wouldn’t have gotten that close unless Rhodey let him. Not the point, though. A trigger and he’d been ready to kill the closest thing he had to a father.

  The lashes had been given a few days to heal. Rhodey had returned to using the sink and exhaustion for his questioning. That he’d let Noah sleep a whole night meant he was changing tactics again.

  Rolling his shoulders, Noah got out of bed to dress. His jaw ticked as he stepped out of the cell, but he no longer hesitated. Or tried to close the door when Rhodey was sleeping, risking his wrath in a foolish attempt to retain some control over his surroundings. Almost two weeks later and there were still deep bruises lining his palms.

  A few nights he’d even gone up to the simple bedroom that had been prepared for him. Only slightly larger than the cell. With the exact same furnishing, except the bed was bigger. Softer. And the sun shone gently through the sheer curtains every morning. He couldn’t manage the bed. The floor was a bit better, but after wasting the few precious hours he’d be allowed to sleep, he’d retreated to his cage like an animal who’d never known anything but captivity.

  Which was fucking frustrating. In prison he hadn’t hidden in his damn cell, why the hell did he keep wanting to now?

  But I don’t.

  He readjusted his own thoughts, acknowledging that he had kept going. He’d try the other room again. Maybe he was finally getting to the stage where his unconscious mind wouldn’t insist on what was safe and familiar. A regular room would become familiar. Then—hopefully soon—his own.

  In the kitchen, he pulled out a chair. Repeated the same question he asked every morning. “May I use your phone, Uncle?”

  Setting a plate of waffles in front of him, Rhodey shook his head, then sat across from him and began to eat. “Did you sleep well?”

  There were various bowls of berries on the table. A plate of bacon. Corn and maple syrup in glass dispensers and a thing of molasses which his uncle had always preferred because he was a very strange man.

  Noah poured some maple syrup on his own waffles. “I did. And you?”

  “Like a fucking baby.” Rhodey’s knife cut noisily across the plate. He stuffed a large forkful of waffle in his mouth and spoke around it as he kicked up his booted feet on one of the empty chairs. “It’s nice to be home.”

  Brow furrowed, Noah observed his uncle for a moment. When he’d first begun training Noah—when he was a cocky little punk—they’d shared their first meal and Noah had eaten with absolutely no table manners. Cussed up a storm just to irritate the man.

  He’d spent the next week eating off the floor.

  Thank fuck his uncle kept his home meticulously clean, but the lesson definitely stuck with him. No swearing at the table—or while speaking to those in authority—and if he shamed his mother by not showing the manners she’d taught him, only he would endure the humiliation.

  Rhodey was testing him. The man wasn’t his submissive, so correcting him on his behavior was a waste of time and energy. Besides, it probably annoyed Rhodey more to keep up the act than it bothered Noah to watch.

  Try two teenagers he was more concerned with keeping from choking on their food than how they ate. Or Ezran hoarding food for months because he’d been so afraid not to have enough—or that he’d need it if he and Reed had to run again.

  And Reed, who wouldn’t touch anything sweet for over a year. Noah’s mom had gotten to the bottom of that. The boy’s mother always brought him treats when she returned from tours of duty and would spoil him by baking cookies and cupcakes and pies every day that she was home. He’d gotten a lollipop from her every time he helped with chores. Thankfully, the woman had instilled excellent dental hygiene in her son or all his teeth would’ve rotted away by now.

  Noah remembered talking to the dentist after he’d finished Reed’s yearly exams once he settled in enough and the treats became a way to remember his mother, rather than something too painful. The dentist told him the boy didn’t have a single cavity. Staring at him, Noah had asked him to check again. His mother rolled her eyes at him.

  “I told you, he’s fine, Noah.”

&n
bsp; His silence had Rhodey watching him with interest across the table, where the man was still eating like he belonged in a high school cafeteria.

  Noah took a sip of his coffee and held his uncle’s gaze. “This isn’t home.”

  “Very good.” Rhodey chuckled and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You don’t seem to have any triggers that could be set off unintentionally by one of the children. And you’re not reacting as quickly when you sense an obvious move against you. Maybe Lawson will survive your return after all.”

  Lips slanting, Noah inclined his head. “Good. I don’t want him to feel like he has to be careful around me. He’s needed at The Asylum.”

  “So are you.” Rhodey grinned at Noah’s subtle nod. “I’d like to see more certainty from you, but I’m impressed with the improvements. We might be able to get you home before your sub becomes too fond of his new master.”

  Perfectly still, Noah shackled his blind rage before it could take over. Controlled his breathing. This was a test. Nothing but a test. He’d asked Curtis to care for Jamie and he trusted the man to do exactly that, no matter how angry he was with Noah. The transition wouldn’t be easy for Jamie—Curtis wouldn’t accept the half-ass submission his little cat had been misguided into by Noah. There would’ve been some growing pains, but he didn’t doubt Jamie was both strong and smart enough to adapt.

  The boy wouldn’t be cheated out of what he really needed anymore. Noah had failed him, going from one extreme to the other in a way that was pleasant at first, but couldn’t satisfy either of them for long. And Jamie would notice the difference, down to his core, once surrender truly meant something.

  He’d wondered how far things would go with Curtis, since he’d given neither his sub or the Dom any limits. The idea of Curtis taking Jamie in every way wasn’t...pleasant. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy sharing his boy one day—there were many experiences he wanted Jamie to have, however long he remained. And he’d never been possessive...until now. But he wanted to be there, fully in control of every sensation, close enough that Jamie would know he was still serving Noah, no matter who enjoyed what was Noah’s to give.