Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  Instead, he cupped Noah’s cheek, leaning in with a soft kiss before pulling back a fraction. “Yes, sir. I’m fine.”

  “And you stayed.” Noah brought his hand up to take Jamie’s, moving stiffly. “You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did.”

  A few feet back, Curtis and Lawson shifted away.

  Jamie sat lightly on the edge of the bed, honest emotion completing his thoughts. “I never want to leave. Here. Or you, sir. You’re everything.”

  Gaze going to Curtis, hand still around Jamie’s, Noah held him like he was the only solid thing in the room. His breath came out a little hoarse. “Thank you… You owe me nothing, but...thank you. I didn’t want him to be alone.”

  Jamie parted his lips. Curtis closed his eyes, opening them with a pained sigh full of regret. “I owe you everything. Get some rest and we’ll talk later.”

  Eyes drifting shut, Noah nodded, breaths still a little rough, but not as labored as they’d been before. Sweat glistened on his temples, his head resting heavy on the pillow, but he didn’t release his grip on Jamie’s hand.

  Kicking off his shoes, Jamie peered down at his socked feet, realized he wore clothes in the bedroom, and looked to Lawson. “Um…”

  “I don’t think the rules are relevant right now, my boy.” Lawson let out a soft laugh. “Relax with him. Get some rest if you can.” He looked to Curtis. “Go check on Matt and Reed, I’ll keep an eye on him for a bit. Let Matt know I’ll be home later.”

  “Don’t overdo it.” Curtis rubbed the back of his own neck, speaking to Lawson, though his worried gaze rested on Noah. “I’ll catch some rest and then relieve you at ten if I don’t hear different from you or Doc.”

  Lawson nodded, cupping Curtis’s cheek. “Agreed.” He held his gaze. “Are you all right?”

  “In the scheme of things?” Expression pained, Curtis met Lawson’s eyes before giving him a wry smile. “Yes. But I’m sure you know what’s going through my head better than I do.”

  “Wouldn’t it be nice if that was true?” Lawson pressed a kiss to Curtis’s lips. “Hopefully, the worst has passed. My focus is on moving forward. If nothing else, maybe this gives us another chance.”

  Curtis returned the kiss, and Jamie studied the light-dark contrast of golden and olive tones. They were gorgeous together, and sweet enough to fuel a million love songs. Dreamy, dirty, and gritty. A smorgasbord to choose from. Looking up, Curtis caught his smile and he ducked his head.

  Throat clearing, Curtis left Lawson to look down at Jamie. “Forgiven?”

  Posed as a question, the word took him by surprise. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that, sir?”

  “Perhaps we both learned something.” Curtis took his free hand, giving it a light squeeze as he looked from Jamie to Noah and back. “I hope... “He shook his head. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Jamie watched the doorway as Curtis left, stroking Lawson’s arm on his way by. Turning to Wren, he smiled softly. “Would you mind grabbing my sweats and a couple bottles of water? Then maybe...would you stay?” He looked at the bed. “It’s big enough.”

  Glasses slipping a bit down his nose as he lowered his gaze, Wren shook his head. “I’ll get whatever you need, but I can’t… But you should stay with Noah. You’ll see, things will be back to normal in no time.”

  As Wren helped him change, taking away the dirty clothes and handed him a bottle of water, Jamie considered his fortunes. It seemed unfair and like winning the lottery all at once, all these men who loved Noah, and somehow he got to be the one to comfort him. Sliding into bed, he put the half empty bottle on his nightstand, leaving the other untouched in case Noah wanted it when he woke up. Carefully cuddled up close, wrapping his arm around Noah’s.

  Peace lapped over him in gentle waves when he closed his eyes and breathed deep, taking in Noah’s scent, his heat, the sound of his breaths. Hours that seemed like minutes passed, and when Jamie opened his eyes again the bedroom reading light glowed softly.

  Doc in his black pajamas, robe tightly belted, spoke softly to Lawson, who rested in the corner reading chair. Crossing to the bed, he lifted Noah’s wrist to check his pulse.

  When he finished, Jamie whispered, “Happy New Year, sir.”

  Doc returned his sleepy smile. “Happy New Year, Jamie.”

  Drifting back to sleep, he recalled the old wives’ tale that said whoever you were with, wherever you were, on New Year’s, predicted where you’d be and who you’d be with for the rest of the year. He’d never given much thought to superstition one way or another. Burrowed under the covers, Noah beside him, each breath, each heartbeat a reminder of how close he’d come to starting the year without him. If there was any magic in the world...this was it. Putting him exactly where he needed to be, at this moment.

  Right here. By Noah’s side.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Nine-thirty p.m. The bar was quiet. Curtis shook his head, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. What night was it? Tuesday. He frowned into the darkness at the security light blinking by the door. They’d never unlocked it for New Year’s party. No one had gotten past the gates tonight. Because one of four men he loved like his next breath lay upstairs, fighting for his life. He’d fallen asleep without meaning to after checking on Matt and Reed. Wet clothes stuck to him, a mixture of ice water and blood. Hand on the wall, he breathed deep, antiseptic and sweat still clinging to him.

  Not that I give a shit.

  He was just down here for the alcohol before he went upstairs to relieve Lawson.

  A shape moved in the dark and Curtis’s head snapped up, his head spinning a little. He hadn’t moved from that bathroom floor, and then the couch, for hours. His reflexes were slower than he’d like. No time to think, he snatched a barstool and swung.

  Caught mid-air, the stool was jerked from his grasp. Set down with maddening calm.

  Rhodey.

  The man’s name registered, understanding pivoting his response from defense to rage. He followed through with his fist, aiming for the man’s face. He had one hit, maybe two, to get him on the floor and gut him with a dull knife.

  Swatting his fist away, Rhodey blocked the next and shoved Curtis back a few feet. “Stop.”

  “Stop?” Curtis barked a laugh. “I’m going to light your sorry ass on fire.”

  He grabbed a bottle from the bar. Swung it with a sharp twist, mind already on where the fucking matches were.

  A swift motion and Rhodey latched onto his wrist. Spun him around to pin him to the bar while taking the bottle to set it aside. “Calm the fuck down. You called me, remember? What the hell were you expecting? He’s too old to put on his knees in the fucking corner.”

  Curtis bucked, testing Rhodey’s hold.

  “Fuck.” His breaths came in gusts.

  Winded. Totally tapped out. And…

  Noah being filleted at this man’s hands was his fucking fault.

  “Let me up.” He closed his eyes, needing Rhodey’s hands off him.

  Releasing his wrist, Rhodey put some distance between them. “There was no other way, Curtis. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry.” Sitting, because he had no other option, he put his face in hands that smelled like blood. “I’m the one who let him rummage around in my safe.”

  And my brain.

  With a rough, irritated sound, Rhodey nodded. “Because you had no choice. That won’t happen again.”

  Swiveling so he no longer had to speak to the man in the darkened mirror, Curtis reached for the liquor bottle. Unscrewed the top, not caring what was inside. He drank down three slugs of—he drew the bottle away, trying to read the label in the dark. “Who the fuck drinks peppermint schnapps?”

  Rhodey snorted and grabbed a bottle from the top shelf. “Here. My sister has good taste in bourbon.”

  Curtis nodded his thanks. Opened the other bottle, handing the first to Rhodey. “Toss this in the trash. It tastes like Lawson’s ass after a fight.”

>   “Really?” Rhodey’s brow lifted. He put the bottle back on the shelf. “Any other details you care to share?”

  The bourbon’s smoky sweetness burned away the peppermint as his buzz took hold. He nodded, latching onto the distraction. “Man likes his product. A fucking stylist’s wet dream.”

  Grabbing the bottle he’d been drinking from when Curtis came in, Rhodey poured himself another glass. Brought it to his lips. “You’re lucky he was looking out for you.”

  He paused, bottle to his lips as he recalled his promise to Lawson the day before Noah’s return. He swallowed a sour taste that had nothing to do with the schnapps he’d drunk. A flashback gripped him and he clutched the edge of the bar.

  Noah’s arm barred his throat, hyperextending his neck as the man’s breaths came quick and sharp in his ear. Pleasure rolled over him in repeated waves. He turned his face, claiming a kiss that held the same slick insistence as Noah’s thrusts.

  It had been so long since he’d felt anything but pain, self-loathing and hatred. He wanted to drown in the man who drove into him, pushing him forward, bed frame impacting the plaster with each thrust.

  Noah nuzzled his neck. “Don’t you dare.”

  Curtis groaned, hoping like hell he could last. The rhythmic pumping hit his pleasure spot until he bit his own tongue in an effort to obey. No fucking use. His orgasm roared toward him, his hips tightening, toes curling.

  Noah’s fingers snapped next to his ear. “I said no.”

  Pain, a burning rush as every muscle in his body forced his orgasm back, his come feeling like it reversed course and jammed into his tailbone. He shouted, falling forward, Noah toppling with him.

  That was the last time he’d had trouble obeying that command. He’d never understood, not completely, the hold Noah had over him. Love and conditioning twisted together until he was unable to tell them apart. Lawson, perceptive man that he was, knew the last. Had put himself between him and Noah, trying to protect him. He’d let Lawson take those hits in the ring for him, hadn’t protected Matt from the man Curtis had unwittingly unleashed on them all. That he’d brought into their fucking home when he’d begged Noah to return.

  Noah demonstrating his power over him with alarming and near-lethal consequences was just the icing on this shitcake. If Doc hadn’t gone downstairs to get a load of laundry out of the dryer Reed had forgotten to bring up, the outcome would’ve been very different. Part of him wondered how far Noah’s control over him extended. Would he be holding the gun next time? The one upstairs in a tub full of blood and ice?

  Bottle slipping from his fingers, he fumbled to reclaim it.

  Rhodey moved fast, catching the bottle, his jaw tense as he placed it out of harm’s way. He studied Curtis for a moment. Inhaled slowly. “He let you go, kid. That should’ve stuck. And would’ve if he hadn’t come back...wrong.”

  It wasn’t lost on him that when Rhodey had taken Noah away he’d been indefinite with his timelines. Two weeks had seemed like a lifetime, and not nearly long enough. Noah’d fought hard, and Curtis had zero doubt that the cold bastard standing in front of him now thought he’d tightened his choke chain, but what about the next time it broke?

  Will Noah be dead? Or will someone else?

  A dry smile on his lips, Curtis canted his head. “If what you brought back is what passes for right in your world, then we’re all fucked.”

  “It’s not perfect. But it’s better. Considering what set him off this last time?” Rhodey eyed him, taking a long drink, directly from the bottle. “There is no ‘right’ in my world. There’s alive and dead. He’s alive. And he’s no longer a threat.”

  For now.

  Gripping the bourbon bottle, he traced the label with his nail, not meeting Rhodey’s gaze. “And what about next time? What if he decides he and I work better as a team and you have to stop two of us? Have you thought about that?”

  Would the same protections he extended to his nephew be given to Curtis as well? Or would he be bleeding out in an alley while Rhodey brought Noah to some other so-called safe house and tried to make his twisted lessons stick?

  “I wasn’t as careless with his training as he was with yours. He won’t forget that. Even the idea would bring him back to...this.” Rhodey rubbed a hand over his face. “He’d figured it out on his own—that he’d fucked up with you. I pushed him to make sure.” He pulled his shirt open, then tore off a bandage, revealing stitches along the length of his chest he’d clearly given himself. “This was his reaction.”

  “You triggered him to make sure…another trigger had been fixed?” He shook his head. “How many buttons do you think are still lurking there? Waiting to happen?” And could his own be tripped just as easily by someone else? By something else? “To both of us?”

  “Curtis, your training was not the same. Sure, he taught you to fight. To obey.” Rhodey gave him a hard look. “I made my nephew into a weapon. I had a much different life planned for him. A life I couldn’t force him to lead, but…” He shrugged. “Free will and all. If you’re that worried, I can teach you some Russian. Even the playing field.”

  He opened his mouth to ask what a second language had to offer that the first couldn’t accomplish and recalled that specific tone and the snap of Noah’s fingers, the memories of which had his spine straightening even now. Even after everything he knew.

  “You control him with Russian?” That fit. “To make him obey you.”

  “Yes.”

  He laughed, both horrified and impressed. That was some sick conditioning right there. Though he was tempted to let Rhodey teach him, the idea of making Noah bend to his will would be a little too appealing.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think I’d trust me with that right now.”

  “Fair enough. I also told Noah I could take that power over you from him, but not sure that’s necessary.” His lips slanted. “Think about it while you’re having your whole existential crisis. You let him have the gun. But then you went to take it back. Fucking tied him up. If I gave Noah a command like that, he wouldn’t fucking move. Even after years of not using that against him, nothing’s changed.”

  Well, if that little piece of information didn’t just wring his brain out and leave gray matter all over the floor…

  He tried to hide the shiver licking up his spine with a slug of bourbon and closed his eyes. The time he’d spent alone with Noah in Tracey’s guest house had been the most terrifying hell he’d experienced, even more so than the gang violence he’d seen outside The Asylum’s front door. He’d be an idiot to want to go back to that time, for any reason. Except for the part where everything had been pretty fucking simple. No need to worry about what Noah was going to think or do, to try to stay one step ahead of him, making sure he didn’t bring the entire world down on everyone’s heads. The man had been in charge, and he’d taught Curtis to trust that. To count on it. Even when the results hadn’t been pleasant.

  No fucking way did he want to replace his twisted version of intimacy with Rhodey’s hold over him, but he refused to be a threat to anyone. “If you think one day it comes to that, I’ll go there. But…” He shook his head. “Thanks. Not now.”

  “Good. Because I don’t think it will. If I was worried…” His level gaze locked with Curtis’s. “I wouldn’t ask.”

  He swallowed, nodding. “I guess I can be grateful he didn’t make me into himself. Into what you wanted him to be.”

  “Yeah...woulda taken a few more years.” Rhodey put the bandage back over his wound, slapping it in place and chuckling to himself. “And you wouldn’t have enjoyed any of it.”

  Biting back on his smile with a dark twist of his lips, Curtis shook his head. “I can’t wait until you run into someone you can’t read like a book. It’s gonna fuck with you so bad. Please say I can be there to watch?”

  Rhodey lifted his head slowly, brow arched. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like him. I don’t like what he did to you, but it would be smart to stay on my good side
.”

  Surprise parted his lips and he rolled back the conversation in his head. Realized the thing Rhodey reacted to wasn’t just the gentle ribbing, but the moment when he’d told him, effectively, that he’d made Noah into the monster that lurked in The Asylum’s closet. Rhodey’s edgy humor had been meant to push him back, off the scent of an open wound, but it had left him exposed. The threat came only when Curtis had kept pushing over that line.

  Tucking the information away, he reached for a glass above the bar and poured himself a drink. Held it up in salute. “To staying on your good side, my man. It’s nice to know you have one.”

  “Mhmm.” Rhodey lifted his own glass. The edge of his lips tightened. “Noah’s fuckups and mind games aside...try to remember who he was. I knew prison wouldn’t be good for him. If I’d realized how much damage being in there would do, I wouldn’t have given him a choice about accepting his sentence.”

  Curtis lowered his glass to the bar, the rim absorbing his attention. He ran his finger around it, making it sing as he chased down his thoughts. The space Noah had once occupied in his life had been filled with Reed...and Law and Matt. Except the ghost of what he’d always wanted from the man lingered. He wasn’t sure who it was he’d held for hours on the bathroom floor. Maybe just a memory, if he’d ever existed at all.

  “I’m not sure I ever really knew him.” He shrugged, pushing away from the bar. “So replacing him with whoever you brought back shouldn’t be too hard.”

  Rhodey inclined his head. “Makes sense you’d see it that way. Once he’s better, I hope you sort that shit out. Along with your own. If nothing else, you were his friend. Because that’s who he asked me to protect if he couldn’t.”

  Shame and alcohol did not fucking mix well. Noah and he had never talked it out. Curtis had tried, sure, but the results usually left him feeling vaguely dissatisfied, like he’d tried to build a bridge in midair and ended up at the bottom of a chasm. Lawson had been different. The two men were on more-equal footing and Law had a finesse that probably came from some prep school debate team shit he could never hope to cobble together.