Flawed Justice

by Tibby Armstrong

  “Yeah?” Ezran’s lips curved into an uncertain smile. “A bunch of us are going to the park to throw around a football and shit. You wanna come?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” Ezran’s face fell. He folded his arms over his chest. “You’re busy. Was a stupid thing to ask.”

  Lawson was busy, but he still felt like an asshole. He’d have to make it up to the kid somehow. The grease stains gave him an idea. “You’ve been spending a lot of time at the shop?”

  That brought a wide grin to Ezran’s lips. He nodded. “Reed’s been teaching me a lot. I finally saved enough to buy an old bike to work on. Curtis won’t let me ride it until I’m eighteen, but I figure it’ll take me that long to get it in good shape.”

  Well that explained what the kid was doing with his money. “I assume that’s not what you wanted to ask me about?” Lawson brought his coffee to his lips and smirked. Curtis wasn’t the only one who could play this game. “Though you should have. So long as you pass your driving courses and prove to me you won’t drive recklessly, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to ride it sooner. I could pitch in if you’re missing parts. Maybe come by sometimes and help you out?”

  “Really?” Ezran’s eyes lit up. “That would be fucking awesome.”

  “Your language is going to have me rethinking you being at the shop at all. Fix it.” Lawson gave Ezran a pointed look, pleased when he quickly nodded. “Now what was it you wanted to ask?”

  Uncertainty stole the joy from Ezran’s features. He dropped his gaze and rubbed his hands on his jeans. The silence stretched out as Ezran seemed to consider how to best word his request.

  Finally, he sighed and just blurted it out. “Can I go visit Noah?”

  That son-of-a-bitch. Lawson’s jaw ticked. If Curtis was here, he’d knock the fucker out. He had some goddamn nerve laying this on Lawson’s shoulders. The answer had been the same for as long as Noah had been in prison.

  Was it that hard to say “No” and change the damn subject?

  He set his mug down and rubbed a hand over his face. “Ezran, we’ve discussed this.”

  “I know, but I was fourteen when he made that decision. I’m old enough. I’ve been doing good in school and working hard. I’ll be qualifying for my black belt next month.” Ezran ticked each point off on his fingers. “All the shi—the stuff Noah wanted for me.”

  “And he’s damn proud of you, kid.” Lawson folded his arms on the bar top, holding Ezran’s stubborn gaze with the most patient one he could manage. “But he doesn’t want you there. Discussion over.”

  “But—”

  “Enough.” Lawson kept his tone level, not wanting to upset the boy, but knowing nothing good would come from continuing this conversation. “Give me a list of parts you need for your bike. I’ll put in the order this week. I’m free Wednesday so we can—”

  “Don’t fucking bother.” Ezran glared at him for a moment, then stormed off, almost walking into someone who was coming through the door leading from the stairs.

  A vaguely familiar boy about Ezran’s age ambled into the bar, glancing back at Ezran, cringing as a door slammed. He looked at Lawson as though to comment, then clearly thought better of it and ducked behind the bar like he had every right to be there.

  Watching him fix himself a cup of coffee, Lawson thinned his lips. This little thug had been with Matt when Curtis had confronted them both at the station. Matt had expected Lawson to intervene because he was ‘a kid’. He looked old enough to face the consequences of his actions.

  The boy turned slowly. Chewed on his bottom lip.

  Lucky for him, Curtis came down the hall just in time to save him having to explain what the fuck he was doing here, because Lawson was fairly certain the boy wouldn’t have been able to get a single word out.

  Lawson turned his attention to Curtis, his tone hard. “Explain.”

  “The kid’s staying with me.” Curtis clapped his hand down on the boy’s shoulder, almost knocking him over and forcing him to put his coffee down before he spilled it. “So’s his brother.”

  They were brothers? Even better.

  “No.”

  “Guess I missed the part where I needed your permission.” Curtis’s lips slanted. He glanced over at the teen, who seemed to be trying to become one with the wall by the back bar. “Fix your brother a cup and take that upstairs, Garet. Me and my man here need to have a little chat.”

  Jaw ticking at the ‘my man’, Lawson waited until Garet disappeared up the stairs with two mugs of coffee, then stood, stepping up to Curtis as he came out from behind the bar.

  “I don’t care how badly you want to fuck that man, or how much you enjoy pissing me off. After the damage they’ve done—”

  “They didn’t do it.” Curtis’s expression was serious now, his jaw hardening as he met Lawson’s cold gaze. “Matt never had any part in the destruction—he wasn’t even there.”

  Running his tongue over his teeth, Lawson nodded slowly. Without warning, he snapped his fist into Curtis’s face, knocking him into the stools in front of the bar. He fisted his hand in Curtis’s shirt before he could fall and jerked him close.

  “You let me get into that ring believing he was a racist homophobe who was part of the fucking gang who killed three of our members and got Noah put in jail?” His throat tightened as he considered what else had almost happened that night. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Curtis twisted free and shoved Lawson away from him. He swiped off the trail of blood spilling from his bottom lip. “I thought Matt was covering for his brother who was all those things. Turns out he’s just a stupid kid who got caught up with the wrong crowd. You know what that’s like, don’t you?”

  “Don’t fucking go there.”

  “Why not?” Curtis stabbed his finger into the center of Lawson’s chest. “You might think you’re above it all, but I know you, Law. If Noah hadn’t been there for you, you’d have become the very thing you hate so fucking much.”

  Pressing his eyes shut and pulling in a steadying breath, Lawson resisted the urge to hit Curtis again. He turned his back on the other man, pacing to the end of the bar, resting his hands on the edge as he considered the implications of what he’d learned.

  He didn’t regret fighting Matt, but he wouldn’t have beaten him to fucking unconsciousness if he’d known Matt wasn’t to blame for destroying the sanctuary that Lawson valued above anything else. Curtis’s methods were underhanded as always, but he had a point. Lawson wasn’t proud of his past. When he’d met Noah, almost ten years ago, he’d been stripping parts off stolen cars for his car thief of a boyfriend. Barely eighteen, he’d met the man when he’d been sleeping on friends’ couches after being kicked out by his dad. Usual shit, his dad didn’t want a gay son.

  He had two others. The spare could be forgotten.

  Seduced by a sleek car and a sexy smile, Lawson had gone home with Vincent and been damn grateful to get a job at his ‘shop’. Months went by before he figured out the shit he was doing was illegal. By then it was too late. Vincent wouldn’t let him leave. He beat Lawson bloody when he tried.

  More than once.

  The last time, Lawson ended up in the hospital, where he met Noah.

  “Nice flowers.” Lamest line ever, but Lawson was bored and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man with the wildflower bouquet, who looked like he could be a fucking model.

  About his age, with light gray eyes and light brown hair in loose, wild curls that hit the collar of his white dress shirt, the man shot him a crooked grin from where he leaned against the wall a few feet away. A short beard framed his jaw with an unkempt style to it which was sexy as hell. Everything about the man seemed effortless.

  His voice was smooth, with a deep undertone that had Lawson leaning forward as he spoke. “Brought them for my mom so she knows I’m taking care of her garden while she’s in here.”

  Lawson laughed. “By killing her flowers?”

  “Yeah…�
� The man’s brows creased slightly. “Hadn’t considered that.”

  Fuck, he didn’t want the man to feel bad over a nice gesture. He shook his head. “I’m sure she’ll love them. I hope she’s doing okay?”

  “She’s getting better. Some complications with her chemo, but the doctor is confident she’ll regain her strength and be home within a day or so.”

  The comfortable atmosphere changed as Vincent strode into the waiting room. He fixed Lawson with a cold glare. “You’re well enough to sit here and chat, you should be at the fucking shop. Let’s go.”

  Holding up his arm, which he’d been icing at the nurse’s orders, Lawson shook his head. “I’m waiting for x-rays. They think there’s some torn ligaments and—”

  “Did I fucking stutter?” Vincent grabbed Lawson’s already fucked-up arm, sneering when Lawson cried out in pain. “Keep it up and I’ll give you a real reason to be here.”

  Pushing away from the wall, the man with the flowers swiftly cut between Lawson and Vincent. He took hold of Vincent’s wrist, using it to twist Vincent around before shoving him halfway across the room.

  He glanced back at Lawson. “Hold these.”

  Taking the flowers, Lawson watched in awe as Vincent came at the man, only to have his punch blocked and his own momentum used to flip him onto his back. One foot on Vincent’s crotch, the man stared down at him.

  “You should go now, don’t you agree?”

  Vincent hissed through his teeth. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

  “From down there?” The man folded his arms over his chest. “I’d rather not have you spoil my visit with my mother, so I’m going to let you leave.”

  “Like fuck you—GAH!”

  “Sorry, what was that?”

  The second the man moved his foot, Vincent scrambled back. Holding his crotch as he retreated, he glared at Lawson. “You’re going to pay for this.”

  Once he was gone, the man retrieved his flowers and helped Lawson to his feet. He studied him for a moment before holding out his hand. “The name’s Noah. That fucker your boyfriend?”

  Cheeks blazing with shame, Lawson nodded. “It’s a long story.”

  “I don’t give a fuck. You’re not going back to him.” Noah put his hand on the center of Lawson’s chest, easing him back until he sat. “What’s your name?”

  “Lawson.”

  “All right, Lawson. Here’s what we’re gonna do. You owe me.” Noah held up his hand when Lawson’s lips parted. “My mom has a big place. A sweet guest house with a spare room. How are you with gardening?”

  The bit of hope that had bloomed in Lawson’s chest died. He glanced down at his arm. “Probably worse with one arm than I would’ve been with two.”

  “True.” Noah tapped his fingers on his chin. “But you can scatter seeds and hand me tools. Fetch me water. There’s plenty you can do until you’re healed up.”

  Shaking his head with disbelief, Lawson met Noah’s steady gaze. “You don’t know me. Why the fuck would you help me?”

  His question brought that crooked grin back to Noah’s lips. “Because my mom would kick my ass if I didn’t. She’s always bringing home strays. Speaking of which, you could help me with those too. Tell me you hate dogs and the deal’s off.”

  “I love dogs.”

  “Good, then it’s settled.” Noah patted Lawson’s shoulder. “Stop looking so shocked. There are good people out there, kid.”

  “Not sure I’m one of them.”

  “You like dogs and flowers.” Noah winked at him. “That’s good enough for me.”

  Head bowed, Lawson considered how much had changed in him from the boy he’d been then, to the man he was now. He had control of his own life because Noah had given him the strength and skills to avoid being trapped by another Vincent. They’d built this club where men could find acceptance, could feel the kind of power that came from fighting, but on their own terms.

  Matt should’ve had the same. Instead, he’d been forced into the ring and paid for a crime he hadn’t committed.

  The win that had given Lawson satisfaction the night before now made his stomach turn. He rose slowly, refusing to look at Curtis, his voice rough as he spoke.

  “He can stay.” He fisted his hands against the bar. “You pay him for his fucking work. You let him fight if he wants to and you take no more than a fair cut if you’re fronting him the entrance fee.”

  “He still owes me—”

  “He. Owes. You. Nothing.” Lawson looked at Curtis this time, lips curving as a thought occurred to him. “But you do owe me.”

  “Bullshit. I paid for him to—”

  “You manipulated him.” He moved closer to Curtis, enjoying the uncertainty in the man’s eyes. “There are so many ways I could make you repay me.”

  Curtis arched a brow. “You want to fuck me, just say the word, Lawson. I’m game.”

  “I’m sure you are.” Lawson gave Curtis a dry smile. They both knew that would never happen again. They were volatile together, more likely to fight than fuck without Noah around. And it had been a long time since they’d done either. “But are you up for a challenge?”

  “Name the terms.”

  “You win, I’ll forgive your debt.” Lawson curved his hand around the back of Curtis’s neck, tightening his grip when Curtis tried to jerk away. “I win and he’s mine.”

  Chuckling, Curtis slammed his forearm into Lawson’s wrist, putting some distance between them when Lawson released him. “I’m sure he’ll love that. And I’m manipulating him? He’s not a fucking prize, you cold-hearted bastard.”

  “He’s a fighter. We both know he can make some good money in the ring.”

  “As if that’s all you want from him.”

  “In exchange for lodging and protection?” Lawson refused to be baited by the implication in Curtis’s words. “Yes.”

  “Keep telling yourself that. Whatever, so long as he has a choice.”

  “Careful.”

  “Oh, fuck you and your holier-than-thou crap. You want control over him. He’s appealing to you now that you know he’s not a thug. We’ve got the same taste in men, so this should be interesting.” Curtis stroked his chin with a little quirk to his lips. “The fact that he hates us both even more so.”

  “This isn’t a competition.”

  “That’s exactly what this is.” Curtis smirked. “But I’m not the one who beat the fuck out of him, so I’m already winning.”

  “You attacked his brother.”

  “And I just saved him.” Curtis’s expression shifted, his smile fading. “That kid needs help, Law. The rest of this bullshit aside, we can’t let The Ravagers get their hands on him.”

  Lawson inclined his head. “Agreed. They’re both under the protection of the club.”

  “Good.” Curtis ran his fingers through his hair. “Matt’s a good man, Lawson. I had him all wrong. He’d do anything for that kid. Don’t make it harder on him.”

  “You’re talking as though you’ve already lost, Curtis.” Lawson might not be Curtis’s biggest fan, but he hated the haunted look in his eyes. Whatever he’d seen at that house had brought back some bad memories. The man needed a distraction. “By the way, I overrode your decision about Ezran riding that bike. The money I win will go a long way in getting the parts he needs.”

  Eyes wide, Curtis stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. “Like fuck you did.”

  “I did.”

  “Then I guess I better kick your fucking ass.” Curtis folded his arms over his chest, that cocky edge back. “Next Saturday. I’ll spread the word—this will bring in the crowds. A lot of people have been dying to see someone take you down.”

  “Shame they’ll have to be disappointed.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that.”

  Inclining his head, Lawson stepped past Curtis, then started up the stairs, pausing in front of Curtis’s door when he heard laughter from the boy, Matt’s brother, Garet, and an answering groan from Matt. I
f Noah was here, he’d go in there and talk to them both. Make sure they had everything they needed. That they felt welcome.

  If Noah was here, Lawson might have considered doing so himself.

  He turned his back on the door and headed into his own loft, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Noah wasn’t here and Lawson had no idea what he’d say to Matt once he saw him. Not that anything would change what he’d done.

  He’d find his own way to make things right.

  Chapter Seven

  Matt tossed his towel into the hamper and marveled that it was as empty as it had been the day before. Were there freaking towel fairies in The Asylum? He smiled to himself. Picturing a few of the less-butch members, Matt could believe it; however, he’d never seen anyone but Reed in Curtis’s apartment. Surely, the man wasn’t chief cook and bottle-washer as well as a towel boy?

  Catching his expression in the mirror over the sink, he wiped off some of the fog and leaned in. It had been a long time since he’d smiled, and though it stretched the stitches on his right cheek, he didn’t mind. How ironic that he had less freedom now than he’d had since before his parents’ deaths, and yet his shoulders had never felt so light.

  He ran a finger along the bumpy ridge of his sutures and contemplated the fading green and purple bruise along his jaw and under his left eye. Lawson hadn’t held back, that was for sure. Over the past week, he’d managed to avoid the man by getting up late and repairing the bar after everyone went to bed. Curtis didn’t seem to care what hours Matt kept, as long as Matt and Garet didn’t hog the shower and kept their own dishes out of the sink.

  In fact, the guy had been a lot less, well, domineering and irritating over the last week. Matt had noticed him nursing a fat lip last Sunday but had decided to leave well-enough alone. Whoever’s fist Curtis had walked into, his sarcastic mouth had likely led the way. Maybe the confrontation had been what had mellowed him out, but unless Matt missed his guess, something was eating at him.

  “Hey! You die in there?” Curtis’s fist against the bathroom door jolted Matt from the study of his fading battle scars and he straightened.