Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  Since being at Noah’s...or, more appropriately, their mother’s house, Ezran had gotten his hair professionally done in a way that fit the young man’s edgy gothic style. His hair was now a blue-black shade, shaved around the sides with the top long enough to fall over one eye in sharp angle. He’d gotten a piercing in one ear and several in the other. A piercing through one eyebrow. Many things some might think he was too young for, but Mom liked showing her boys the freedom to express themselves, even if only through their looks. With Reed it had been colors and glitter and clothing that often said, straight up, what he thought of everyone’s opinion of how he presented himself.

  With Ezran it was darker. From his black Beartooth band shirt with ‘No Structure, No Prisoners, Real Bad Listener’ written in white and orange on the center of his chest, his black, strategically ripped jeans, to his sharp-studded leather boots.

  Looking at him now, it was hard to see the little boy he’d once been. Eleven and hiding boxes of Kraft Dinner and cans of meat—though not always the cans, which led to some nasty clean up—because he couldn’t accept that his next meal was guaranteed. Jumping at loud sounds or raised voices, even from the TV. His attitude might seem over the top to some, but to Noah, it was a relief. He’d felt safe enough to speak his mind. Know that he wouldn’t be thrown away if he crossed some invisible line.

  If only Noah could have made sure he really was safe, in every way.

  “Hey.” Ezran stuffed his hands in his jean pockets and scowled at the floor. “Mom says I have to be nice to you because you’re all fucked up, but I don’t really want to, so...glad you’re okay and all. We done?”

  Ouch. Yeah, he had a lot of damage to repair between them. He met the challenge in Ezran’s eyes with calm in his own. Accepted the anger he deserved. “I won’t make you stay. But I’m happy to see you.”

  “You gonna tell me how sorry you are?”

  “Will it make a difference?”

  “No. You didn’t care before. Why should I believe you do now? Because you almost died?” Ezran slammed his fist against his thigh. “I don’t want you dead, but I don’t fucking need you anymore. You’re not my father. You’re not my brother. You did your good deed, so move the fuck on.”

  Noah inhaled roughly, every word like a punch right to the center of his chest. He met his mother’s eyes and she lifted her brow expectantly.

  She wasn’t going to help him with this. And she shouldn’t have to. He loved Ezran and he’d have to earn a place in his life again. So far everyone else had been willing to give him a chance, but the boy had given him more than enough. Including begging to see him in prison. For over a year.

  “You might not need me, Ezran, but you are my brother. You call her mom, I’m part of the package.” He shrugged when Ezran glared at him. “You don’t have to like it. You can hate it. But that’s how I’ll treat you. And I’ve done a shit job of it, but I’m going to be here when you’re ready. Checking on your bike with an open invite for you to join me so we can make sure it’s ready for when you head off to California. I’m opening an account for both you and Garet for your tuition and living expenses.”

  Ezran’s eyes widened. Then his expression shut off. The boy couldn’t be bought, which was commendable. “Cool. Thanks.”

  “And when I’m better I’m gonna be starting up weekend football scrimmages in the park. Fuck the snow, it’ll make things more interesting. You wanna join in, meet me there.” He cocked his head, recalling a complaint he’d heard from Ezran just once, when he’d visited while Noah was in prison. Lawson had sighed and shook his head. That could come in handy now. “I’ll bet you a hundred dollars I can get Lawson to come play.”

  That brought out a snort as Ezran came over and sat on the edge of the bed. “Winning a hundred dollars of your own money don’t mean shit. You pay my allowance, dude.”

  What is it with everyone using ‘dude’ to test how serious I am?

  Maybe he should start having Jamie call him that instead of ‘sir’ just to desensitize himself. Not that he knew why the stupid word got to him.

  With his training, Jamie would probably do it, but hate it. And he wasn’t willing to mess with the hard work his boy had done and how he’d be perceived simply to make the word okay. Maybe it was good to let the people who loved him have some way to take a jab at him when they really needed to.

  He met Ezran’s closed off gaze and chanced a smile. “Fine, but if he plays, will you?”

  “Yeah…” Ezran nodded slowly. “I guess so.”

  “Good.” He wanted to hug the boy so fucking bad, but he could tell he wasn’t ready. So he reached out and patted the back of his hand. “It’s good seeing you. When you want to—whenever you want to—swing by, all right?”

  Ezran’s brow furrowed. “What if I don’t?”

  “Then I’ll hunt you down and make you pretend you don’t hate me long enough to kick your ass at Fortnight.” He relaxed back onto his pillows when Ezran snorted again. “Don’t get too cocky. I’ll practice. I don’t like losing.”

  “Yeah, well you better start liking it. I’m way ahead of you and I show no mercy.”

  “Good. I don’t need it.”

  After Ezran shuffled out of the room, his mother came to him, waving in someone else. Rhodey, who leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, clearly compelled by her to come before he believed he’d be welcome.

  His mother gave him a hard look. “This never happens again. I want both of you to understand that. I thought I had an idea of what this whole…” She shook her head and smoothed her hand over Noah’s hair, tears clinging to her lashes. “What would happen if Rhodey had to take you away again, like when you were a boy. But I was so wrong. He never went this far.”

  That’s not... exactly true.

  Then again, by the time he’d seen his mother again, his broken bones had healed, his scars faded. Rhodey never forbade him from telling her details, but with her in and out of the hospital for her treatments, the idea hadn’t even occurred to him.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. He wouldn’t have had to if I’d realized I wasn’t okay. If I’d stayed home a little longer.” He hadn’t really considered that, but he should have. His brow furrowed. “Do you want me to come back?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Oh no, you’re not coming back to my place to hide. You get better and you take care of fixing things here. But you will visit more often. And bring Jamie. He’s...not what I expected for you, but he’s an amazing guy. I don’t think he’s even close to reaching his potential yet, but you’re good for each other.”

  Jamie leaving a good impression on his mother made him very happy. He took her hand and smiled. “I can do that.”

  “Promise?” She drew in a shaky breath and looked him over. “I hate that you’re not in the hospital, but you look like you’re doing well. Do I want to know how bad it really is?”

  “It’s nothing. Honest, remember when you got that horrible infection when that cat scratched you? Kinda like that.”

  “Hmm.” She didn’t believe him, but she’d accept it. There were some things it was better she didn’t look too hard at and they both knew it. “Well, play with nicer cats then.”

  His lips curved as he thought of his own little cat. “I will.”

  “Good.” She stood, a determined look on her face. “This is the duvet I helped Lawson pick out for his loft. Both yours and his are probably ruined. I’ll get you some new ones.” She looked around the room. “And since Jamie’s going to be staying here too now, he needs something to make it feel like home. I’ll find something special to surprise him.”

  Smile in place, Noah nodded. He loved the idea, but...if Jamie truly planned to stay, he probably had his own things he’d want here. And he’d brought nothing, unless it was somewhere else. He’d worn clothes Doc had given him. Reed had suggested lending him some—did that mean he still hadn’t gotten more of his own? The idea of him having nothing more than what he’d brought those first days didn�
��t sit well.

  Accepting a kiss from his mother before she slipped out, he turned his attention to Rhodey, who stood by his bed, a grim look on his face.

  “How much will it set you back when he leaves?”

  Of all he’d had to face so far, this...he wasn’t ready for. But he might have to be. “He’s said he wants to stay—unless I was dreaming that part. Either way, I love him. I want him to have what he needs, whether or not I can give it to him.”

  “I see.” Rhodey’s lips thinned. “It’s good to hear you say that, but I’ll be sticking around until we’re certain of what he’s going to do next. You might think you can accept his choice, Noah. But you thought you’d be fine resuming your place in The Asylum. And you weren’t.”

  “There’s an empty loft. Stay as long as you want.” Noah’s lips slanted as he tried to show a lack of concern he didn’t feel. “Hell, you should make your stay permanent until your next job. I think you’ll like it here.”

  “You don’t mean that.” Rhodey let out a soft laugh and shook his head when Noah met his level gaze, unblinking. “All right, I’ll take you up on that. The loft is nicer than many of the places I’ve stayed at in a while, and I don’t want you to push yourself too hard. But you can only use me as a safety net for so long, Noah. You can’t ask anyone else to trust you again if you don’t trust yourself.”

  He hated that his uncle saw right through him, but at the same time, he needed that. Almost as much as he needed Jamie, back with him. Looking at him like he could do no wrong. Maybe it was weak, but after facing so much doubt, so much uncertainty, he needed one thing solid.

  Even if it was temporary.

  His little cat slipping into the room soon as the front door shut, told Noah he’d been patiently waiting to return until he wouldn’t distract from the other visitors. And fuck, looking at him now, he was grateful for his boy’s foresight. Because he wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off him.

  The hair color hadn’t changed, but Jamie had styled his hair into little spikes. His eyes were rimmed with black kohl, which brought out the brilliant green and made his gaze the arresting one he probably wore on stage, only more open. His lips were slick with gloss that had Noah’s dick showing interest in anything for the first time in weeks. The snug, plain white T-shirt and dark-purple skinny jeans had his boy looking downright fucking edible.

  Standing in front of him, Jamie held up his hand and wiggled his fingers. His nails were freshly painted.

  Fuck, I love this man.

  His lips slanted. “Perfect. Only one problem.”

  Jamie’s lips parted. “But you said…”

  “That you’re never to wear clothes in my room. Once we’re out of it, I want to see you, just like that.” He crooked his finger until Jamie leaned close enough to claim his lips. “Until then, I just want to see you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Light and dark wrapped around each other, an unbroken cycle of dawns and sunsets Jamie had seen too many of lately to tell one day from the next. Doc’s comings and goings dictated his schedule, much as the Dom had for the two weeks Noah had been away.

  Away…

  That wasn’t the right word but putting a label to what had happened to Noah exhausted the part of his brain still capable of clear thought. He’d rather spend his time studying the man who slept peacefully next to him in the bed they shared.

  In the early hours, when the world was hushed and everything felt new, he took the opportunity to look his fill while Noah slept. Chin on the heel of his hand, he studied painfully sensual lips, the sweep of a barely-there beard, the black emphasizing skin that would tan easily. Heavy brows balanced broad features and the kind of nose the camera loved. Supermodel perfect...

  Jamie snorted. Better not tell Noah that. That was the kind of thing Trevor had cared about. Who he was seen with, what label he had on his back, and whether the camera caught his good side, had taken up as much of his ex-bandmate’s time and attention as ‘sick’ dance moves. And whether he, Danny, or Jamie had more face time in their latest music video. Poking his tongue at the corner of his lip, Jamie frowned when he recognized himself in that observation.

  He’d been as bad, if not worse.

  It didn’t matter if Noah was beautiful down to the dark lashes dusting his skin. Everything about him was strong. Confident. In control. From the corded column of his neck to the size of his hands, everything about him just fit who he was. He might be a study in contrasts—sweet and gritty, gentle and powerful, gracious and demanding—but there wasn’t a single shallow, fake thing about him. He was one-hundred percent himself and one-hundred percent real.

  “Are you memorizing me, little cat?” Noah’s sleepy gaze met his, lids half-mast.

  Jamie ducked his head, caught out. “No, sir.”

  “Mhm.” Noah’s fingers ran through Jamie’s hair, tugging just enough to make him sigh with pleasure.

  Arching into the touch, he snugged his thigh along Noah’s, reveling in heat and muscle. Soft hair rubbed against naked skin he’d kept smooth, and a delicious shudder walked up his spine as his dick took notice of Noah’s nearness.

  Releasing his hair, Noah smiled. “Care to share what you were thinking about?”

  Jamie nodded, one side of his mouth twisting into a self-conscious smile. “Me. Trevor. What divas we were... How you’re not.”

  “Divas?” Brows lifting, Noah tilted his chin down. “Do I need to buy you a tiara?”

  Laughing, Jamie let his mouth fall into its best boy-band pout, his gaze slanting into the liquid come-hither look girls loved. “Hey, stud.”

  “That might be marginally better than ‘dude’.” Noah’s grin widened, his attention dropping to Jamie’s lips. “Put that away until I can take you up on that invitation.”

  Jamie rolled his lips between his teeth, biting back his smile, eyes shining. “Yes, sir.”

  “Flirt.” Shaking his head, Noah adjusted his position against the pillows and winced.

  Sobering, Jamie scrambled up to help him find a comfortable angle. Doc had taken out the catheter two days ago, but he and Noah both still dreaded those moments when he had to move off the bed.

  “That’s better.” Smiling, gaze hazy with pain, Noah rolled his head to take him in.

  Jamie sat back on his heels. “Can I get you some water? Juice? Toast?”

  “I’m good for now.” Noah’s gaze trailed down Jamie’s chest, drinking in his bare skin, before returning to his face. “How old were you when you started performing?”

  The personal question made Jamie blink. He’d only ever had that kind of interest from journalists, except Noah made it sound different. Thinking on it, he realized that was because Noah already saw him as a person, not as someone to puzzle out for a headline. The newness of the experience upended him, scattering his thoughts.

  “Um…” He frowned, poking at his lip with his tongue. “What was the question?”

  One dark brow popped up. “Think. You’ll remember.”

  Jamie frowned.

  Personal questions… Tabloids... Journalists…

  His gaze widened and he laughed. “Oh, yeah. Um. We were fourteen before we hit the charts, but we were three of ten boys the label groomed. I was nine when I started, and eleven when they decided I’d made the cut.”

  “Your voice hadn’t even changed yet.” Noah’s gaze dipped to Jamie’s throat, taking in a jaw that was nearly smooth even when he didn’t shave for a day.

  Shrugging, he sat back, drawing up his knees and wrapped his arms around his shins. “There were lots of vocal tuners and effects for Trevor. His voice isn’t that great since it changed. I got lucky. So did Danny.”

  “Your parents must be proud of your success.” Noah traced the tops of Jamie’s toes with his index finger. “How hard you’ve worked.”

  “Mm.” Jamie closed his eyes. “Feels nice.”

  Noah’s fingers stilled against his skin.

  Eyes opening, he caught the ex
pectant look. “Um. I support them, but I’ve been emancipated since I was sixteen. We don’t really speak.”

  The caress resumed, a hypnotic swirling of Noah’s fingertip against sensitive skin. “How do you do that? Emancipation?”

  “It’s a family court thing. My manager suggested it when my parents’ divorce started making the tabloids.” Memories of his parents’ split, the headlines and how they’d drawn their battle lines around him and his wealth made him tighten his arms around his legs. He rested his cheek on his knees and licked his lips. “I was getting more questions about them than the album we’d just dropped and the label was pissed. They were threatening to take away my lead vocals from a bunch of tracks on the next if I didn’t straighten it out.”

  It hadn’t been so bad between him and his dad until after that day in court when he’d effectively given his parents an allowance and walked out of their lives. Not that it mattered much. He was never home anyway. His parents mostly left him to the legally required tutors and staff his money paid for, while they’d been off jetting around Europe.

  Noah’s hand moved up his ankle, cupping the back of his calf and rubbing up and down. “That must have been difficult.”

  “Nobody’s ever asked me outside of an interview.” He lifted his head, resting his chin on his knees. His lips twisted, rueful. “I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

  “In an interview? Or at all?” Squeezing his calf, Noah massaged gently.

  Jamie pushed his foot out a little, giving him better access. “I’m not sure. Definitely not the press. But… Trevor and Danny were there when it all went down. Trevor just seemed annoyed. Danny...I couldn’t tell. And I wasn’t gonna talk about it with my manager. He would’ve told me to just move on, that I’d gotten what I wanted.” He shrugged. “What was good for me.”