Flawed Justice

by Tibby Armstrong

  “Dude.” Matt choked back a laugh at the giant smiley face stamped on the back of Reed’s shorts. “What are you doing?”

  Reed pushed up from the crate, trailing straw and scowling. “I can’t find my balls.”

  Matt bit his lip to hold back a laugh, and failed. “I’m sorry.” He tried to stop, but shook his head when he couldn’t speak. Calming, he wiped his eyes with the corner of his shirt. “They came in a separate package. I put them under the bar.”

  Lip stuck out, Reed blew a breath that lifted his bangs and dislodged the straw from his hair. “That’s good. Want to get started?”

  Matt eyed the mess he would have contained if he’d been there sooner but couldn’t fault the man for not waiting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t given Matt ample chances to get his act together.

  “Sure. I think if we just pry open the sides, we can lift it up and position it without having to take it up and out of the crate?”

  Reed nodded, setting to work with a crowbar he’d likely brought from the maintenance area behind the gym. The sound of cracking wood preceded a cascade of more straw that had Matt running to get heavy duty lawn bags and the broom and dustpan. Too bad The Asylum didn’t have any horses. Though if Garet and Ezran didn’t straighten out, Curtis might stuff their mattresses full of the straw and make them bed down in a barn.

  Matt paused, hands on the edge of the pool table he and Reed were about to lift, and regarded the other man. He appeared, not exactly unhappy, but less...Reed.

  “Hey. I’m sorry about yesterday.” Most guys he knew loved their cars and motorcycles, but Reed had seemed more emotionally attached to his than most. “Is your bike all right?”

  Dusting off his hands, Reed looked up, smoothing his features, but not before Matt caught the sadness lurking there.

  “It’s all good. No damage beyond the tank of gas.” Curling his hands over the edge of the plastic-wrapped pool table frame, Reed nodded to Matt. “Ready?”

  “Yep.” Straining, he heaved at Reed’s count of three and they shuffled the table off the crate bottom to its place under two stained-glass pendant lights. “Did you buy the bike from your winnings?”

  Ripping off the plastic, Reed shook his head and continued balling up the covering as he went, revealing the carved walnut base underneath. Two slabs of granite would need to be positioned and covered with green baize before the rest of the table could be assembled. Reed stuffed the plastic into one of the lawn bags before he stepped back, arms folded.

  “It was a birthday present from Noah.” His gaze skipped to Matt, then to the bar where it lingered. “I’m glad Ez and Garet are safe. The bike’s just a thing. No big deal.”

  Matt nodded, though he didn’t believe the man for a minute. “Yeah. Me too.”

  His gut twisted as he realized exactly how much the men—Curtis, Reed, and Lawson—had lost in the last six months. The vandalism to The Asylum was a horror they all could have done without. Though it would mean he never met any of them, he would trade it all to give the guys back their peace of mind.

  “I haven’t eaten yet.” Matt glanced to the door to the galley. “Do you mind if we have a sandwich and a beer before we do the rest?”

  “Sure.” Reed tugged at the hem of his startlingly conservative black T, lifting it to dry his face.

  Settling onto Lawson’s favorite bar stool near the stairs, Matt rested his chin on the heel of his hand while Reed went into the kitchen to make him lunch. He returned and handed Matt a triple-decker BLT and a plate of fries.

  “Thanks, man.” Matt bit into the sandwich Reed slid to him realizing he hadn’t eaten for about twenty-four hours.

  Between worrying about Lawson and the teens, and all the sex last night, he was famished. He finished the sandwich and dug into the fries. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “Oh.” Reed bent, pulled a yogurt from the bar fridge and grabbed a spoon from a caddy. “Yeah. I forgot.”

  Matt smiled. “You like taking care of other people.”

  Peeling back the lid on the container, Reed wrinkled his nose, considering. “Yeah. It’s nice. It’s…” He shrugged. “Just me.”

  Thinking about it, Matt realized making the coffee for Lawson this afternoon had been one of the high points of his day. Around The Asylum, Reed always jumped in to complete undone tasks, substituting for shifts when the few paid members couldn’t make it to set up for an event or to staff the bar. He never complained and never had to be asked.

  Did that make the guy a...well, Matt cocked his head, watching Reed spoon up the yogurt as if the fate of the universe might lay in the next bite. Did that make Reed like him?

  “Are you a submissive?” He blurted the question without thinking.

  Reed looked up, lips parted, eyes wide with shock. Amusement followed, lifting his lips. “God. You get rogered once and all of a sudden you’re a nosy bastard.”

  Matt blushed hard. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

  “Nah.” Tossing the yogurt container and spoon into the bar sink, Reed dusted his hands. “Yeah. I’m a sub. Why do you ask?”

  Matt contemplated a fry between his fingertips and tried to pretend he hadn’t dived headlong into a conversation he didn’t even begin to know how to have. Much less with a guy he hardly knew. Hell, who was he kidding? He could’ve known Reed his whole life and not been comfortable having this kinda talk.

  Reed leaned in, forearms along the bar. “I’ll tell you something, but you have to promise to tell me something in return.”

  Mid-chew, Matt nodded. “Sure?”

  “When they call you ‘boy’ does it make you hard?”

  Matt coughed, nearly choking on the fry. Swallowed. Grabbed for his forgotten beer and chugged some of it down before wiping his mouth on a paper napkin. When he met Reed’s eyes, the other man’s gaze held a hazy, near-drugged happiness Matt recognized. He’d felt that way last night during the edgy play with Lawson that had sent him sailing higher than he’d ever been in his life.

  He leveled his gaze at Reed. “Yeah. It does.”

  Reed’s dimple appeared, along with a lazy, knowing smile. “Me too.”

  A connection sparked, not sexual, but one of understanding. Kinship. Reed held his gaze and patted Matt on the shoulder.

  “Do you know why?” Matt had to know. What was the thing that made him want Lawson to tell him where he belonged and what was right or wrong, even as he fought him every step of the way. “What it is that makes you want the things you want?”

  Reed shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  Matt’s attention wandered to the gymnasium doors. He felt about Lawson like he felt about that ring. Within the ropes, his world became clear. It was just him and the fight. With Lawson, he had a feeling he’d know when he hit the boundaries, and the man would stop him from falling off the edge.

  Pushing away from the bar, Reed went about his work while Matt considered his beer. “A submissive, huh?”

  Reed looked over his shoulder, racking clean glasses from the dishwasher, two in each hand. “Don’t go thinking it means wuss.”

  Remembering the way the man had handled their fight at the police station, Matt believed it.

  He eyed Reed, who counted out cash for the register, and wondered who had taught him about himself or if he’d always known who and what he was. And Lawson for that matter. What about him? Had he always known he was a...a Dom?

  Matt tipped his beer to his lips, huffing a laugh at the idea of Lawson’s face if he asked that question. No way was Matt jumping headlong into that conversation unless the man invited him. For now, he would focus on figuring himself out. He wasn’t worried, because for once he didn’t need to do it all on his own.

  Chapter Eighteen

  How had a teenager become more difficult to face than a gang of armed thugs? Lawson stared at the door, rubbing his hand over his mouth and debating the logic in him taking on any kind of guardianship role with Ezran. The boy had Curtis. And Reed.

  But in all
respects, Reed was his brother. And Curtis had more than enough on his plate. Aside from the MMA lessons he gave at a Dojo owned by Noah’s old teacher, he’d finally put down the money to open his own training center. One in a decent area that was still close enough to the poorer neighborhoods to be easily accessed. He’d started a scholarship and an outreach program so kids whose parents couldn’t afford to pay could still have the opportunity to participate.

  He was a good fucking man.

  Lawson tended to focus on Curtis’s flaws, the way he cut too close to the darker side of the world they lived in, how often he found gray areas to get what he wanted. But ever since Matt had come here, he found it impossible to ignore the reasons behind Curtis’s outlook and how many benefited from it.

  Including Matt.

  What would have happened if Curtis hadn’t gone after Garet? If he hadn’t dragged Matt here, whatever his intentions? Even if Matt hadn’t stepped up for Garet, Curtis would’ve put the teen to work and seen that he was trapped in a horrible situation. Instead, he’d done so for both brothers.

  And probably saved their lives.

  The idea of Matt having gone on alone trying to protect his brother from the gang set Lawson’s teeth on edge. Matt might have spent some time on the streets, but he’d managed to avoid so many of the dangers out there. Standing against those fucking thugs? With the way Matt ran his mouth sometimes, he’d be dead.

  If nothing else, Lawson owed Curtis for that. The man would still discipline Ezran, as he’d done with Garet because he was damn good at it, but Curtis had been raised in an environment where anything that was considered a weakness wasn’t discussed. Not that he couldn’t comfort the kid, but he struggled when conversations turned to emotions.

  Not that Lawson was much better, but he’d damn well make the attempt.

  Or he could always get Matt to talk to the aspiring delinquent.

  Enough. Ezran hardly knows Matt. And Noah put you in charge.

  “Because he’s an idiot.” Lawson sighed and rapped his knuckles on the door. “Ezran?”

  A loud, irritated groan, then a muttered, “Fuck off.”

  He was so cute when Noah first got him. What the hell happened?

  For some reason, Lawson had imagined children grew up a bit like puppies. Going through an awkward stage before becoming loyal companions. He’d never had a puppy, but the men he knew who had them always described the process that way.

  He knocked again.

  “I said fuck off! I ain’t doing shit, just fucking leave me alone!”

  Why didn’t Noah just get another dog?

  Turning the handle, Lawson drew in a measured breath when he realized it was locked. Should he warn the boy before he kicked the door in? Curtis wouldn’t, but Noah probably would.

  The boy wasn’t dealing with either of them. If he was trying to start a fight because he was upset, he’d be sorely disappointed. Lawson pulled his wallet from his back pocket and plucked out a small tool he hadn’t had the need for since he was just a bit older than Ezran. He deftly slipped the picks he’d made himself into the lock and adjusted them until he heard the satisfying click. Returned them to his wallet.

  And opened the door.

  Sitting up abruptly in his bed, Ezran gaped at Lawson. “Dude, what the fuck? You can’t just come in my room like that!”

  “I pay a third of the lease on this building. I’m listed as one of your two legal guardians.” Lawson folded his arms over his chest. “I’d say I have more right than anyone.”

  “It’s my room!”

  “That it is. Your room, where you still have certain privileges. Such as access to the internet.” Lawson fixed the boy with a level look. “Keep yelling at me and you’ll lose that as well.”

  “Fuck, I hate you! You’re not my father!”

  “Was that in question?” Lawson arched a brow. “I wasn’t aware.”

  Ezran’s face went red. He raked his fingers into his hair and tugged. “I can’t do this. I can’t…please just leave me alone.”

  “Ezran…” Lawson inhaled slowly. Crossed the room to sit on the edge of Ezran’s bed. “I didn’t come here to fight. You’re already being punished. You know what you did was very dangerous, right?”

  Rolling his eyes, Ezran shoved his feet against the mattress and pushed himself until his back was against the wall. “I used to do it all the time with Reed. How do you think we met Noah?”

  Lawson frowned. Noah had never given him any details, only that he’d found two boys who’d escaped a shitty foster home and he needed a good lawyer to help him become their guardian. Reed had told Noah his mother was in the military and would be coming back for him, so he hadn’t adopted the teen. But he’d been in the process of adopting Ezran, who’d been only eleven at the time.

  Ezran didn’t know it, but his uncle, who was his sole living relative, had contested the adoption. Threatened to fight Noah for custody if they didn’t come to some kind of agreement. After hiring a private investigator to learn more about Ezran’s family, Noah had the lawyer Lawson connected him with write up a contract.

  Adoption was never discussed again. All he and Curtis knew was suddenly Noah had an eleven-year-old he was responsible for who stayed at his mother’s place. Along with the fourteen-year-old who was ‘still waiting for his mom.’

  Last year, Lawson had gone with Reed to visit his mother’s grave. The young man had been very quiet at first, blinking back tears and laying his hand on the tombstone which stood among those of so many other soldiers who’d died in active duty.

  “The day my dad walked out she called. She said she was coming home and to stay with our neighbor. After a few weeks not hearing from her, our neighbor contacted child services.” Reed’s throat worked as he swallowed. “They tried to find my dad—tried to get in touch with my mom. They couldn’t and there was no one else.” He blinked fast. “I got a letter a few months later. Looked like it was from the military, but I don’t know. I never opened it. I just kept telling everyone she was coming for me.”

  Hand on Reed’s shoulder, Lawson nodded. “She would have, Reed.”

  Reed smiled and nodded. “I know, but… I think she sent Noah. I know it sounds crazy, but a few days after that letter my foster father went on a bender and I took Ezran and walked until he couldn’t go any further. I found somewhere safe for us to sleep. Stayed there a few days, stealing food where I could find it, trying to figure out where we were gonna go. We got a few rides and then I wasn’t so worried about getting dragged back. I got stupid.” He laughed and shook his head. “Noah caught me with my arm stuck in a vending machine. Bought me and Ezran a bunch of stuff to eat and brought us home to his mom.”

  “I’m glad he did.”

  “Me too. Ezran was so fucking skinny I was scared he was gonna die on me. I shoulda taken better care of him, but I…I kept thinking if I got to the base where the letter came from, they’d tell me where my mom was.”

  “But you still didn’t open the letter.”

  “No… I couldn’t. I think I knew what it would say.” Reed fisted his hand on the tombstone, tears spilling down his cheeks. “But I couldn’t accept that. Because I had nowhere else to go.”

  “Reed told me Noah caught him stealing from a vending machine.” Lawson eased himself back until he was sitting against the wall, next to Ezran. “It was at a truck stop?”

  Ezran nodded and hugged his knees to his chest. “We walked for a long time, staying away from the roads because we didn’t want our foster father to find us. I’d been making myself something to eat and there was a bottle of bourbon on the counter. I knocked it over by accident. He was so mad he threw a chair at me. Reed blocked it and got me out of the house. He had bruises all over him, but he was worried about me. Not sure why, I’d only gotten smacked around a few times when I did something stupid.”

  Lawson’s jaw clenched. “You know that’s not okay.”

  “Yeah…I guess. Was just…stupid. Like they took me away from
my aunt and uncle for the same shit. What was the point?” Ezran glared at his knees. “It was cool taking off with Reed though. He got me snacks and told me how good a cook his mom was. When I was really hungry he’d tell me the meals she’d make and I couldn’t fucking wait to meet her. Not sure what he told the truckers, but a few of them let us hitch a ride. I got to sleep in the back of the cab, on a small bed, but it was really comfy. They gave us as much food as they could. Sometimes even money.”

  “Is that why you thought it was okay to hitchhike to the prison?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean…” Ezran groaned and pressed his forehead to his knees. “Look, I know when I was little, shit could’ve happened. Reed’s always being an idiot and getting all sad and saying he’s sorry. But I’m not a kid anymore. I know when someone’s bad. I…Lawson, after dealing with The Ravagers…” He brought his hands to his lips. “I don’t care. I just want to see Noah. It’s my fault he’s in there.”

  Fuck, Lawson couldn’t even begin to say how wrong it was for Ezran to believe that. He immediately shook his head, but from Ezran’s stubborn look, he could tell he’d have to approach this carefully or Ezran would shut down completely.

  Noah was his hero in every sense of the word. No matter what Curtis or Lawson, or even Reed did, they couldn’t replace him. Seeing Noah might be good for the boy, but Noah must have his reasons for asking that he not be brought to the prison.

  Lawson had accepted the request without question. Had expected Ezran to do the same.

  Maybe that was the problem. The whole ‘You’ll do what I say because I’m the adult’ wasn’t very effective. Lawson remembered being a teen and questioning absolutely everything that was said to him. Ezran had a right to be upset. To demand answers.

  Answers Lawson didn’t have.

  “I wish I’d been there, Ezran. I can’t fucking tell you how often I go down to the bar and it’s so fucking quiet and I remember how Noah would be laughing and teasing Reed. Or messing around with Curtis. Or just sitting with you and talking. And I think if I’d been the one in the alley that night, I’d be in prison and he’d be here, where he belongs.” Lawson tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “I can’t be what he was for you. And I haven’t tried hard enough. But I promised him I’d keep you safe. He doesn’t regret what he did because you’re fucking worth it. No one doubts that.”