Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  The color left Matt’s face and he backed away from Jamie, hands up. “I didn’t mean to hit him that hard, he’s been doing better with training and I thought⁠—”

  “That he could take it?” Noah’s lips slanted as Matt blinked at him. He walked up the stairs to the ring, resting his elbows on the ropes. “No need to tuck tail, puppy. While you’re training him, you’re in charge.”

  Matt’s brow creased. He shook his head slowly, muttering under his breath. “Coulda fooled me.”

  Noah arched a brow. “One pass. And that was it. I confused the issue before. I’ve clarified. I won’t apologize, because you shouldn’t let him dictate how he spends the lessons.” He moved to climb into the ring. “Why don’t you show me what he’s learned so far?”

  A throat clearing stopped him short. He glanced over his shoulder, where Doc had come in, arms crossed, lips thin. “How about you watch from down here.”

  Not really a request, but Doc was being diplomatic. Trying not to humiliate Noah in front of the submissive he’d been an asshole to, but still needed to set some boundaries with. There would be a lot of that, going forward.

  Including with himself, while he was still healing. He inclined his head, schooling his features as a sharp tug along his flesh as he straightened reminded him why Doc had told him to stick to light activities for a few more weeks.

  He grabbed the rope to steady himself, shaking his head when Jamie started toward him, eyes shadowed with concern. “I’m all right, little cat. Keep your focus where it belongs.”

  With a firm nod, Jamie turned back to Matt. The two spoke quietly. Faced off, fist posed, Jamie’s a little too low. Before Noah could open his mouth to correct him, Matt reached out and firmly did so himself. He wasn’t speaking to Jamie as though he was Noah’s boy and needed special treatment, but simply as a student whose attention wasn’t where it should be.

  The first fist Matt threw sent Jamie back a few steps. He pressed forward, dancing around Matt. His quick jab didn’t land, but it was perfectly executed. Another block and he took a spinning sidestep, dropping into a low kick that looked like it belonged in a music video, rather than a ring. It caught Matt in the shin. Not hard enough for real damage, but Matt tripped forward, laughing.

  “Better!” Matt shoved his foot into the center of Jamie’s chest, knocking him onto his back and pinning him there. “But you need to recover fast. You stayed down. You’re on your back. What do you do now?”

  Jamie sighed and flattened his arms on the canvas. “I lose.”

  Oh hell no. Noah frowned and started forward, but Curtis blocked him with his arm and shook his head. At his other side, Doc looked like he’d stopped midway in doing the same. He exchanged a look with Curtis, a satisfied smile on his lips, likely pleased that the other man was being more assertive.

  And yes, it was good. Needed. But damn it, he didn’t like hearing Jamie give up. Every instinct as his Dom demanded he push him, that he show him what he was capable of.

  But Matt was Jamie’s instructor.

  Matt cast an uncertain look at the other two Doms. Met Noah’s eyes, then smiled as though to say, ‘Trust me.’

  “Twenty pushups every time you stop trying.” Matt looked down at Jamie, his disapproving frown one-hundred percent Lawson. “Starting now.”

  The man was a submissive with all the confidence and authority needed to be a good teacher. Noah might have initially chosen him to get the upper hand on Lawson, but it had turned out to be a good decision, regardless.

  Rolling over, Jamie sat up and ran his fingers through his hair, fluffy and white all the way to the roots after his trip to the hairdresser with Noah’s mom. His nails were free of polish after he’d chipped it yesterday, but he’d be putting on another coat once he was finished here if he stuck to his routine.

  In some ways, his submission had become such a natural part of his life. In others, he still struggled. Often when someone beside Noah was in charge.

  But Matt had effectively put Noah’s little cat back on track. Squaring his shoulders, Jamie gave a sharp nod. Then got down to start his pushups. As the lesson continued, he got frustrated several times when he failed to execute a move properly and ended up pinned again. Twice more he stayed on the mat and earned pushups. Which he did, without complaint.

  Until they were in the car, on the way to Noah’s mother’s house.

  “My arms are dead.” Jamie lifted his arms and let them fall to his sides dramatically, giving Noah a pitiful look. “This keeps up and I’m gonna be all buff and you’ll miss me being small and sexy.”

  Noah chuckled, reaching out to ruffle Jamie’s stylishly mussed up spikes. “I’d find you sexy even if you were built like The Hulk. I’m not the least bit concerned.”

  A soft smile curved Jamie’s lips. He let out a happy sigh when Noah took his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I guess I can’t complain too much. My ass in those new jeans I got is tight.”

  “Mhm.” Noah shot Jamie a hooded look. “I’ve noticed.”

  The shopping trip Jamie had gone on with Reed gave him some hope that his boy was in a place where he’d begin to truly consider The Asylum home, but he hadn’t gotten many things. Especially for how much he’d spent—which he’d overheard Reed whispering to Curtis later that night. Noah had been raised fairly well-off, between his father taking payoffs from criminals and his mother starting her own thriving interior design business, but three-thousand dollars for a pair of jeans didn’t quite fit in his head.

  His boy was spoiled. Thankfully that side of him didn’t come out often and could be adorable when he wrinkled his nose at certain things. Like when Ezran and Garet had gotten excited about going to the scrap yard for parts they needed for an old Chevy they’d bought to restore just for the hell of it.

  “You’re...going to pick through garbage?” Jamie stared at Ezran like he’d lost his mind. “I can buy you the parts if you want.”

  Ezran blinked at him, then laughed. “What fun would that be?”

  Jamie didn’t get it, but he tried. Adjusting to a lifestyle where everything didn’t revolve around money and status was harder for him than surrendering control had ever been.

  Speaking of which…

  Noah jutted his chin toward the glove compartment. “I got something for you.”

  Eyes widening, Jamie reached out, popping open the compartment. His brow furrowed when he palmed his old phone. “Oh.” He turned it on, tongue poking at the corner of his lips. “Thank you, sir. But I was doing fine without it.”

  “It’s a way for you to reconnect with whoever you decide you still want in your life.” Noah’s lips slanted. “It only took Wren a few minutes to get it working again.”

  “But...” Jamie frowned down at the phone. “What if I don’t want to have a way for people to reach me. Couldn’t you have asked me just this once what I wanted?”

  Not at all how he’d expected Jamie to react. He nodded, gaze fixed straight ahead. “I apologize. Next time I think of doing something thoughtful, I’ll put in a request first.”

  Jamie’s fingers clenched around the phone and he looked out the window, not responding. He remained quiet, jaw working as red slowly crept up the back of his neck. When he spoke, it was in a whisper so soft Noah couldn’t hear what he’d said.

  “Do you want to repeat yourself or would you like me to read your mind?” Noah kept his tone neutral, not in the mood to deal with whatever the hell this was when he’d been trying to do something nice. Fuck, it wasn’t like he’d set up a list of calls the boy had to make. “There are likely people who care for you very much who are worried. It would be thoughtful to let them know you’re doing well but returning your phone to working order didn’t make it a requirement.”

  Turning the phone over, Jamie tapped the screen, scrolled through several pages and kept scrolling to the top. Selected something.

  “Jamie Kent? Where are you? This is Glenda. Your father and I haven’t heard from the lawyer this mon
th or the accountant. Where are those transfers? Call me. Immediately.”

  He tapped another button.

  “Jamie, it’s Cid. ‘sup bro? Let’s get trashed on Thursday night. I have tickets to the Lakers game. We can do some cheerleaders after. I need to get us on the board during the show, so wear something nice. My album fucking tanked.”

  The next message was from a lawyer who wanted Jamie to call so his mother would stop harassing him for money. A few more were about people who wanted him to sponsor their products after all because they’d decided his ‘going gay’ was good for their brands.

  “Should I go on?” Jamie looked up at him.

  “It’s entirely up to you.” Noah’s lips thinned, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Or you can throw the phone out the fucking window. Again, I didn’t say to call back everyone demanding your attention. But aside from it being impossible that you didn’t have any decent people in your life, it would be nice to text or call you myself when you go out. Or I do. You aren’t trapped at The Asylum, Jamie.”

  “What I said was, I should have known better than to start an argument with you.” Slumping down in the seat, Jamie folded his arms over his chest. “It’s not like you’d understand that I don’t want to leave this place, or be reminded of all the crap I have to clean up back there. Where I don’t want to go. I don’t want to think about it. It’s too much, and I just want to be here with you. Thinking about you and Reed and Wren. Not the person I’d have to be there. The person I am now. Here, with you.”

  The idea that he couldn’t possibly understand Jamie’s feelings, feelings that hadn’t been shared with him to give him the opportunity, hit Noah hard, but he focused on the road and let Jamie continue.

  Jamie shoved himself up straighter, leg straightening, left knee bouncing as he spoke faster. “It’s fucking impossible to be both me here and that person there, Noah. I’ll lose everything I want if I crack open that door.” He turned in the seat, breaths coming quicker, like he thought Noah might turn the car West that very moment. “It’s not a personal affront for me to not want this phone. It’s my old life crashing down on me, and I don’t want that life. And in L.A. my phone is my life.”

  Noah inhaled slowly. To either side was nothing but trees, a road he’d taken so many times before. Only once that he’d been taking someone from a life he refused to let them go back to. Because that life would destroy them. Jamie’s world, the one he’d left, might have many parts that didn’t appeal to him as much anymore, but all of it? That was hard to believe. And him giving that all up for what he had here...Hell, could that honestly be what he wanted? Or was he cutting everything out so he’d never have to make that choice?

  It wasn’t one Noah could make for him.

  Damn it, I can’t do that again.

  Chewing on his manicure, Jamie looked out the window, his words slowing, turning thoughtful. “You’re surrounded by real friends and family and people who care about you, how could you see? If there were anyone there as real as what I have here, or who cared about me beyond what I could sell for them, then I would’ve called them by now. I might be a diva, but I’m not a complete jerk. Usually. And…and...”

  “And?”

  His leg slowed its frenetic jiggle as he seemed to run out of steam. “I’d like it if you could text me. So thank you for fixing my phone... I’m sorry. I’ll just get a different phone number. I didn’t mean to start an argument. It just took me by surprise, all the things I didn’t want to think about. Had been doing a good job not thinking...about. And...I should shut up now.”

  Rolling his shoulders, Noah glanced over at Jamie, then shook his head. “No need to shut up. I don’t think avoiding your problems is the solution though, Jamie. You were forced into hiding because of someone else’s actions. Did you decide you hate everything about the career you had? Everything you worked so hard for? And yes, it’s hard for me to imagine not having anyone good in your life. If you really didn’t, I’m sorry. That must have been...very difficult.”

  Jamie shook his head, blinking fast as he cleared his throat. “It wasn’t that they weren’t good. It was that I was exactly like them. Exactly like Cid.” He looked up at Noah. “That was my life, Noah, and I didn’t know people like you and Tracey existed. Ever. Not really. And I made my choice. I choose here and you.”

  “And you’re giving up on music?” Noah couldn’t imagine Jamie being such a sweet, caring person if he’d been surrounded by shallow people his entire life, but maybe his boy couldn’t see it yet. Or maybe he didn’t want to. Either way, they needed to focus on one issue at a time. “There’s nothing you want to keep? You’re just going to...give everything up? After being here a few months?”

  “If it comes down to it? Yes.” Rubbing his hands on his jeans, Jamie lifted his chin. “My label already dropped me. I have enough money to last six lifetimes.” He shrugged. “What else do I need?” A wry grin twisted his lips. “Besides a bottomless supply of liquid soap?”

  A soft laugh escaped Noah as he pulled onto the gravel road leading to his mother’s house, which was easy to find for those who knew where it was, but tricky otherwise—even more so in the winter. He still didn’t love the idea of Jamie losing all the ambition, all the drive he must have had to be so successful, but he wouldn’t force the issue either. “Lucky you, I’m quite capable of providing all the soap we’ll ever need.”

  His boy let out a quiet chuckle. “Lucky for me we’re at Tracey’s house.”

  “I have a very long memory, my boy.” Noah slanted him a look. “And cocky subs get spankings.”

  Jamie wiggled his eyebrows. “Betcha I can make you forget after we walk in the door tonight—”

  Reaching into his pocket, Noah pulled out Jamie’s favorite penny and rolled it around his fingers, eyes still on the gravel road. “You were saying?”

  “That I’ll get you the soap and kneel to apologize when we get home?” Jamie gave him a sweet smile. “Because I really am sorry I freaked on you...Noah.”

  Noah’s lips curved. “Oh, you will be. While I’m busy punishing you, Wren will be doing all the chores. By himself. I’d say that’s an effective two birds, one stone, because it will keep the peace, but my punishments haven’t quite reached the level of stoning, whatever people may believe.”

  “Wait—” Jamie’s nose wrinkled. “What? How come you’re punishing Wren because I said ‘fucking’?”

  “I’m not. He’ll consider it a reward.” Noah brushed his hand over Jamie’s hair, ruffling it playfully. “You might not have noticed, but he gets very territorial about dusting and goes over all the spots you do when you’re not looking. If he was more outspoken, he’d probably do more than get that sullen look on his face that he has to share everyday tasks.”

  “Um, that sounds like an awfully long punishment for an f-bomb and a minor freakout because I was scared.” Jamie gave him a sad pout, clearly teasing. Sort of. “And I dust because I love yo—” Red flamed up Jamie’s neck to his hair and he ducked his head, biting his lip as all flirtation evaporated. “Jesus Christ.”

  So much for lightening the mood. Noah reached over to rub Jamie’s shoulder. “I planned to extend the apology. But since we’re adding biting your lip to your infractions, we might have quite a list to go through first. As for the chores, Wren will share them whether he likes it or not. It’s your home too.”

  Head lowered, hands between his knees, Jamie nodded. “Thank you, sir. I’ll have him show me how he likes it done so it won’t bother him so much. It’s nice to hang out with him while we work.”

  “I think you’re missing the point, little cat.” Noah parked in his usual spot, then turned slightly, tipping Jamie’s chin up and holding his gaze. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you’re doing things. You didn’t spend two weeks with Doc without learning to do chores up to a certain standard. Wren claimed cleaning my loft. It’s something that’s fulfilling for him, and I have no intention of taking that away. But he has to sh
are. He knows that, but it’s taking him some time to get used to it. I think he assumed you’d only do the things for me that he doesn’t.”

  Relief skimmed like a stone through Jamie’s expressive eyes the longer Noah talked, edging them away from Jamie’s embarrassment. “You’re not exactly a slob, so it’s not hard for him and me to step on each other’s toes trying to do the same thing.” His grin was self-conscious. “Your collection of service subs. We’ll be fighting over your socks next.”

  Imagining that made Noah laugh. “Just be careful, he bites. And I’d have to take the strap to him if he bit you. But at least I don’t have to worry about you fighting over more than that. He’s accepted the different roles you play in our household. It works out well.”

  “No straps, please sir. He’d never bite me—” Jamie tilted his head side to side, considering. “Hard.”

  Had he missed something? “He better never bite you at all.”

  “Yes, sir. And I won’t jumpscare him anymore. At all.”

  “I am going to have to keep you both on much shorter leashes if this keeps up.” Noah gave Jamie’s shoulder a little shove and laughed. “If I wasn’t determined to find him a suitable Dom, I might let you play with him, but he does need to be aware that this situation is temporary. He’ll be with us for as long as he needs to be. After that, he’ll adapt to serving someone else.”

  “But—” Jamie started to bite his lip, but quickly released it, searching Noah’s gaze before he nodded as if he’d come to some private conclusion. “I get it. It seems to work all right for him. He’s...stronger than I’ll be.”

  Noah sat back and blinked at Jamie. “Than you’ll be? What are you talking about?”

  Jamie blew out a breath, sitting back. “At the club. They told me. About...subs having an expiration date.”

  “Fuck that noise.” Noah got out of the car, tired of every topic shifting to something dire. Coming around the car to Jamie’s side, Noah curved his arm around his boy’s shoulders and pressed his lips to the thick, black, cashmere toque he’d pulled on before getting out of the car. His heavy navy colored, wool jacket was perfect for the temperatures they’d had so far, but he still got cold fast. Yet another adjustment he’d have to make if he stayed. “Let’s get inside, Mom will have a nice cup of hot chocolate waiting for you. With marshmallows.”