Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  “Friends.” He nodded. “That’s an interesting word for it. Are you sure I didn’t just get lumped in with all the rest of the garbage he forgot to toss out?” That was not what he’d meant to say, but the words came out anyway and he shoved the bottle away from him. He’d had enough.

  “If you were that worthless, do you think he’d have let you anywhere near his kid? You know him, Curtis. He could’ve found a hundred different ways to keep Reed from you.” Rhodey twisted the cap on his own bottle. “He didn’t.”

  I would have fucking killed him.

  Curtis’s chin came up, his smile sliding into a cold warning. “Reed wouldn’t have let him, and neither would I. He’s mine.”

  “Are you sure about that? Or do you think the right command would ruin everything?” Rhodey stroked his jaw, lips curved in thought. “Maybe you should stop worrying about who Noah is. Figure out who you are and what you want. You’re a fucking Dom, my man. His orders gotta itch a bit, no?”

  His jaw hardened, smile slipping away. All these fucking boxes he was supposed to fit into, they’d never made sense to him, not really. Like hell would he start trying to label them with Rhodey.

  “You’re going to be here a while, making sure what you did sticks, so why don’t you come watch me and Reed in the dungeon.” He gripped the edge of the bar. “If you’re good, I might even let you apologize.”

  Rhodey stepped up to him, framing his jaw with his hand, his gray eyes darkening like stone after a storm. “Impress me and I might consider it. Now get out of here before I forget how much it would fuck with Noah to show him exactly what he’s lost.” His expression turned grim. “Not sure anything will stick then. He doesn’t have much left.”

  That tone, those eyes, edged him right up to the precipice of his personal cliff, and he would have jumped if intuition didn’t tell him that Rhodey had just walked him there on purpose. To show Curtis he could. If he needed to be wanted by someone so fucking badly, he had someone waiting for him upstairs who gave him everything and more.

  Reed.

  Jerking his head, he released himself from Rhodey’s grip. “Use the empty loft. It’s yours for as long as you want it.”

  “Thanks.” Rhodey shifted back, suddenly looking fucking exhausted. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day. I could use somewhere to crash.”

  The bar clock ticked softly, and Curtis realized they’d never turned on the lights. His dark-adjusted vision read the time and he cringed. Yeah. He was going to feel like shit tomorrow. For so many reasons. And Lawson needed to get some rest.

  “Come on. I’ll get you the keys and have Wren get you some sheets and towels. Get the cot out of Noah’s spare room.” He went to the stairs, turning when he reached the bottom. He regarded Rhodey from the first tread, his position bringing their gazes level. “Thank you for what you did. For all of us. Now, and...before.”

  Rhodey rubbed his hands over his lips. Let out an empty laugh. “I almost liked it better when you wanted to kill me, but that wouldn’t do you much good. Don’t thank me. Not for that. Looking out for you is the least I can do to clean up my own fucking mess.”

  Curtis let a slow smile tug his lips, if only to jar the man from his moment. “Oh, I still think you’d look pretty lit on fire, but maybe now I understand you better, and I don’t want to leave nothing but a pile of ash behind.”

  The edge of the man’s lips quirked. “True. That kind of cleanup’s always a bitch.”

  “Where...” Shaking his head, Curtis raked a hand through his hair and laughed. “You’re not even joking.”

  “Afraid not. But I don’t do bedtime stories.” His head tilted slightly. “Unless you ask nicely.”

  “I don’t own drop-seat pajamas, and age play ain’t my thing.” Curtis threw Rhodey a wink over his shoulder as he continued up the stairs. “But I know a few nice subs who’d love to oblige. Ever talked to a guy called ‘Edge’?”

  “Jesus, you fuckers get into some twisted shit here.” Rhodey’s heavy boots didn’t make a sound as he followed Curtis, which was unsettling. “You might want to reconsider that offer. I’d hate to break all your toys.”

  Picturing Edge with his penchant for candy pacifiers on Rhodey’s lap in the Dom’s lounge, he snorted. Dude might rock a onesie, but he was serious hardcore. The kind of player even Rhodey might have trouble finding limits for. He opened the door to Noah’s flat, on his way to Wren’s door, discarding the image. It was too fucked up even for his sense of humor to consider.

  “We’re a one-stop-shop. Almost every kink catered to, one hundred percent satisfaction guaranteed...” He tapped on Wren’s door. “Or your condom back.”

  Rhodey shot him a dry smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Wren opened the door, the room dark behind him, his sleepy gaze taking in Curtis before snapping awake as it hit Rhodey. He backed up a step. “I swear. I didn’t talk to them. Honest.”

  The guy practically tripped over his own feet to get out of the way, closing the door on Curtis’s fingers.

  Yanking his hand back, he shook it. “Jesus. What the fuck?”

  Lips curving into a smirk, Rhodey leaned against the wall by the door and folded his arms over his chest. “The Doms around here seem much easier to control than the subs. Interesting setup.”

  Curtis growled, fishing out the master key from his pocket—the one he’d had made after the incident with Jamie—and shoved it into the door. “You got any ideas, let me know.”

  “Now what fun would that be?”

  His acerbic “Thanks,” accompanied the shoving open of the door.

  Inside the room, Wren’s top half was disappearing into the ventilation duct. With a sigh, Rhodey shot him an irritated look, then crossed the room in two long strides to pluck Wren out of the vent and tucking him under his arm. He carried him to the living room, dropping him on the sofa, where Wren bounced and tumbled to the floor.

  “I take it you two have met?” Curtis addressed Rhodey, snapping his fingers at Wren when the sub started to stand.

  “He might have been lurking. But I know who he is.”

  And given the look on Wren’s face, the set to his shaking shoulders, he thought he was a job Rhodey had come to do.

  Curtis sighed. Could nothing be simple? All he wanted was to get the man a bed.

  “Wren.” Bending, he tipped the sub’s face up so the boy looked him in the eye. “He’s not going to hurt you. He’s Noah’s uncle, and you’re under Noah’s protection. Got it?”

  Wren nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, Master Curtis.”

  Curtis patted Wren’s cheek and straightened. “Get the cot from Jamie’s room and put it in the empty loft. Make sure Rhodey has everything he needs while he’s here. You’ll answer to him like you do me, Doc, Noah, and Law for the duration.”

  Scrambling to his feet, Wren hightailed it out of the room like someone chased him with a cattle prod. Curtis scrubbed his face with his hands, wishing for another drink.

  “I can take it from here.” Rhodey glanced over at the closed door to Noah’s room. “It’s best he doesn’t see me until he’s stronger. But if he asks...I’ll be around.”

  A quick nod, then Curtis handed him the loft key. “I’ll make sure you know if there’s any change.”

  Rhodey took the key, examining it like a foreign object. Curtis’s lips twitched. Probably the dude didn’t usually enter spaces legally that he didn’t own. Following after Wren, who emerged with the folded cot, its squeaky wheel chirping, he closed Noah’s door behind him.

  Flopping down onto the couch, Curtis considered sleeping there and pulled out his phone. He opened a message to Lawson, too tired to get off the couch.

  In the living room. A little drunk.

  The door to Noah’s room opened. Closed softly. Steady footsteps came toward him, stopping right in front of him. “You sent me a text. From the next room.”

  Heat stole across his cheeks. “Dude is a freight train and I got no track left.”


  “Clearly.” Lawson lowered to the sofa beside him. His gaze rested on the side of Curtis’s face. “You were in the bar with Rhodey and you’re still in one piece. Well done.”

  Curtis’s lips lifted as he remembered the stool Rhodey had snatched from the jaws of destruction. Noah would have loved it if he’d finally managed to kill one of those things and maybe brain his uncle at the same time. A frown dropped his mouth and his gaze.

  What if Noah put the suggestion in my head?

  “Agh.” He fisted his hair, pulling hard. “Get the fuck out of my brain.”

  Lawson latched onto his wrist, his tone firm. “Stop it. Talk to me.”

  He let Lawson control his hand’s descent to the couch. The steel safety door to Noah’s bedroom shone dully in the light from the occasional lamp next to the couch, representing a barrier he wished he could erect in his brain between himself and the man.

  His friend.

  “Rhodey says he fixed it so Noah won’t ever do that shit to me again.” Leaning back, he closed his eyes. Which meant his connection to Noah was broken, in more ways than one, and he didn’t know how to find a new one. “Is it totally fucked up that I’m glad and messed up over it at the same time? I mean…” He rolled his head to the side, taking in Lawson’s gaze. “I can’t figure out when I stopped thinking about him as my jailer and started thinking about him as my Dom, but I don’t think I ever wanted either from him.” Feeling like Reed, he chewed his lip. “I don’t know what I wanted, but this thing I’ve got now was never it.” It was empty and cold, and too fucking angry.

  “You’re a fucking mess and we both know it.” Lawson brushed his hand over Curtis’s hair, a small smile on his lips. “But it’s one of the things I love about you.”

  Sighing, Curtis leaned into Lawson’s touch, the reassurance something he didn’t often need but was so fucking glad to have right now. “I know this is going to sound fucked up, but I look at what you have with him, what Reed has with him, and I feel caught in the middle.”

  Idly stroking his hair, Lawson nodded slowly. “If you want to trade what I have with Noah, I have some broken ribs you can take along with it.”

  “Jesus.” Curtis sat up. “I’m sorry. I’m such an asshole.” He shook his head. “You got those for trying to save me from him...from myself.” A firmer shake followed, and he smiled. “I’m okay. I’ve got this. Honest.”

  “Shut up.” Lawson tugged him back to his side. “None of us has this, you least of all. I just wish…” His hand slid down to rest on Curtis’s shoulder. “I’m here, Curtis. Reed is here. Fuck, even Matt, as much as he likes getting under your skin. They might not understand your need to give up control sometimes—not when they see it so firmly in your hands for them—but I do.”

  Relief made him sag against the couch cushions, like he didn’t have to hold the world together with baling wire and twine all on his own. Then he laughed, remembering his first gay fumblings on New York City streets. “I feel fucking closeted all over again.”

  “Mmm. Would it help if I start kicking your ass in the ring more often? I wouldn’t want to out you before you’re ready.” Lawson’s fingers traced the side of his neck. “Though you’d look cute in my collar.”

  If he had a line, Lawson had found it. He grinned, a little feral. “You can try, my man. You can try.”

  “You know I will.” Lawson tugged Curtis’s head back and flicked his tongue over his bottom lip. “Go back to your boy before I decide I want my bed very crowded tonight. Doc will kill me if I mess up my ribs while they’re still healing.” His lips slanted. “Again.”

  Gaze darkening, Curtis breathed deep, as all his blood went south and he dropped his eyes to Lawson’s mouth. “Hurry up and heal.”

  “I’ve been trying. Believe me.” Lawson gave him a hooded look. “I’m very motivated.”

  “Mhm.” Curtis pulled away, not claiming what he might have once taken for granted, wanting to draw the power lines clearly. His tacit nod to what he wanted wouldn’t be lost on Lawson. The man didn’t miss a thing. “You need sleep. Let’s go. I’ll walk downstairs with you. Jamie’s got this tonight. Doc will check on him.”

  “I suppose he doesn’t need me hovering any longer.” Lawson searched Curtis’s face, then relaxed. “But don’t forget what I said.”

  Curtis nodded, looking down at one of the best men he’d known—aside from Reed, his best friend. “I don’t have a hand signal for you, but I’m sure you’ll know what I want before I do. You’re a scary mofo, my dude.”

  Lawson inclined his head. “Which is exactly what you need.”

  Curtis withdrew his keys from his pocket, considering them. His worst memories weren’t the ones where Noah had come for him and upended his existence, threatened his life, and bent him to fit into his sublimely twisted world. They were of standing by the graveside of that kid he’d killed with the drugs, watching his sisters and his mother sob as the coffin was lowered into the ground. The memories of what came after were what had given him the security he’d needed to go on. To find the self-control and empathy he’d needed to become the man he should have been. Noah had given him that. Every once in a while, he needed a reminder.

  From someone he trusted.

  He peeled a copy of his loft key off the ring and left it on the coffee table before going downstairs with Lawson. “Get some rest, yeah?”

  “I will.”

  Leaving Lawson at the door to his loft, he opened his own, going to the bedroom where he leaned against the jamb, hands in his jeans pockets to regard his boy. Eyes closed, purple and white headphones clamped over his ears, Reed fisted his phone in one hand, a corner of the covers in the other, like they were the only things keeping him from floating away on some dark sea. The line at the bridge of his nose and the bruised spots on his lip said the assessment wasn’t far from the truth.

  Closing the door behind himself, Curtis peeled off his ruined shirt and tossed it into the bedroom trash, moving to the bed, where he ran his knuckles over Reed’s bottom lip. Reed’s eyes fluttered open.

  Curtis searched his face, smiling softly. “You hanging in there? Today was rough. Sorry I crashed on you earlier.”

  “Dude, you were exhausted. It’s all good. Seriously.” Reed thunked his head back on the pillows. “Sorry for being such a wimp. I just...couldn’t. Obviously, but at least I was able to get food. And enough ice to last us the next year.”

  The mattress sagged a little as he sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re not a wimp, Sparkles. It’s your job to not let that glow go out. It’s the strongest thing you do, and the thing I most admire.”

  Reed wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, but I’ve seen worse. Like… Well, you know. But I’m glad Jamie was able to tough it out. Noah’s gonna be happy to see him.”

  Ignoring the rest, because there were some things he still couldn’t talk about, Curtis inclined his head. “He was. First thing he asked for him.”

  That brought a soft smile to Reed’s lips as he sat up. “That’s fucking awesome. Seriously. And it’s good to hear Noah woke up. I kept checking my phone, wondering if Doc would decide to bring him to the hospital after all. Then I’d know it was really bad, because Doc can fix anything.”

  “Infection is treatable fairly easily if there isn’t internal damage or burns, I’m guessing. Doc will keep a close eye on him. He’s walked...both of us through this before.” He let the honest statement unspool from his lips, his mind cracking open memories of how he’d fought a similar punishment, twisting so the lash had caused one of the deeper scars on his right cheek. His fingers went to the mark with the thought. “Looks like Noah knows how to stand still, at least.”

  The flannel of Reed’s pajama pants, red with some kind of funky creature on them, rasped lightly against the sheets as he brought his knees to his chest and hugged them. “This shit’s got to bring back some nasty times from way back. You must’ve hated Noah so much for doing that to you.”

  Gathering Reed to him, Curtis pul
led him onto his lap. He was too big for this, really, but damn he needed to comfort them both right now. Tucking his cheek close to Reed’s, he rasped his stubble along Reed’s jaw and breathed deep as tension unwound from his middle.

  “I didn’t hate him. Not by then. I—” Closing his eyes, he saw the way the light cut across the bedroom in the guest house. How the unmade bed, its rumpled covers trailing along the floor, had itched at him even as he’d shouted profanity while Noah muscled him into position. “I pushed him to do it. Because nothing was enough back then. I’m not sure he ever realized that the worst of what he did to me was what I wanted. And still not enough.”

  Fingers trailing down the center of Curtis’s chest, relaxed against him, Reed inhaled sharply. “Because of all the shit your family made you do? You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

  He traced the line of Reed’s vein along his naked forearm. “It never bothered me, not once, Reed. Not until I stood at the edge of Andrew Gardner’s grave. Noah gave me a soul, but I don’t think I had a very big space for it, so I had to make one.”

  “And you did. Whatever they tried to make you into, you’re better than them. You’re strong and you care about people. You’re part of what makes The Asylum a safe place. Look at everything you’ve done for me and Ezran. For Matt. For so many people here.” Reed tipped his head up, easing back enough to meet his eyes, his deep blue ones full of so much faith and love. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that. I won’t let you.”

  Chuckling, he squeezed Reed. “Thank you, my boy. I appreciate that, but for the love of dog, stop swearing. That’s four, and I’m not going to forget tomorrow when I’m trying to take care of Noah and have to cancel my classes at the dojo again, that I have to beat your pretty ass too.”

  Red crept up the back of Reed’s neck and over his cheeks. He toyed with the tag on his collar and ducked his head, speaking into his chest. “Sorry.”