Flawed Justice

by Tibby Armstrong

  “I do.”

  “You shouldn’t.” Lawson put his hand on Ezran’s shoulder as the boy’s bottom lip trembled. “Because then you’re questioning Noah. His decisions. Do you think he’d have killed a man for just anyone?”

  Holy fuck, Lawson. You’re talking to a kid. Maybe don’t bring that up?

  But Ezran hadn’t had an easy life and barely blinked at the question. “No. But I should’ve been able to fight on my own. If I had—”

  “Ezran, stop. You’ve been training long enough to understand the odds were against you.”

  “So what? I should have—”

  “Ezran.”

  “If I’d just—”

  “Come here.” Lawson wrapped his arms around Ezran as the boy burst out in tears. His throat tightened and he pressed Ezran’s head against his shoulder, hating that he couldn’t take his pain away. That night had been traumatic for him and even worse, he’d lost the one person who had taught him how to trust again. Who’d taught him life could be good.

  “Why doesn’t he want to see me?” Ezran’s whole body trembled. “He said he’s coming back, but Reed’s mom said that. And he needed her and she never came back. No one’s ever come back for me. They never wanted to and Noah can’t. What if he never does?”

  “Shh, I get it.” Lawson rubbed Ezran’s back as he sobbed. “I don’t know, kid. I can try to talk to Noah for you, try to explain how you’re feeling, but all I know is he doesn’t want you to see him there.”

  “That’s fucked up.”

  “It really is.” Lawson’s lips quirked when Ezran lifted his head, eyes wide. “I don’t have all the answers. Anyone who says they do is a damn liar.”

  “Dude, you’re a grown-up.” Ezran’s brow furrowed. “You’re supposed to pretend.”

  “Do you want me to?”

  That made Ezran pause. He shook his head.

  “Good, because I’d rather not.” He used his thumb to dry Ezran’s tears. “I can’t fix this, and I’m not going to bullshit you. Noah has a lot of enemies. Many of them for buying this building. He wanted to build something special and he did, but it’s up to us to keep it going while he’s gone.”

  “I do a lot here. I know I’m not old enough to be involved in everything, but I try to help.”

  “I know you do. And I appreciate it.” Lawson turned slightly and put both his hands on Ezran’s shoulders as the boy faced him. “But you and Reed mean everything to Noah. People will try to get to you to hurt him. And he can’t do anything to stop them right now. He trusted me and Curtis to take care of you, but we can’t if you take off like that.”

  Ezran groaned and pressed his head to his knees. “You must fucking hate me. I’m making things so much harder for everyone. I’m sorry.”

  Lawson shook his head and ruffled the boy’s hair. “We don’t hate you. But we’re not going to put up with your shit and you know that too. You’re fucking smart. Noah told me you were interested in architecture? I know he got both you and Reed into art shit—”

  “Grown-ups aren’t support to say stuff like that.”

  “You are aware you’re not being raised in a fucking monastery?” Lawson grinned at Ezran’s snort. “Seriously, kid, I miss him too. And I rarely get to see him. I’ll work on it, but until then…” He gave Ezran a little shake. “Don’t get yourself killed. I like having you around.”

  Rubbing his hands over his eyes, Ezran nodded. “Fine. I won’t take off again. It didn’t seem like a big deal, but Garet’s told me stuff about The Ravagers and… Yeah, if they’d caught us it woulda been bad. Like beyond what they wanted to do to me bad.”

  The way Ezran spoke of what almost happened to him seemed off. Lawson considered him for a moment. “Have you…spoken to Garet about what those men tried to do to you?”

  “Naw, the kid was freaked out enough. He saw them stab a dude once and he thought he had to stick with them or die.” Ezran shrugged. “Do you think it’ll keep him from going back if I tell him?”

  “I don’t think he wants to go back.” Lawson put his arm around Ezran and held him close, glaring at the wall. The kid needed Noah. Or...or fucking therapy, but after being through some himself when he was younger and knowing Ezran had been forced to speak to a counselor through child services, he suspected the suggestion wouldn’t go over well. But the topic shifting to Garet gave him an idea. “If they get their hands on him, they’ll hurt him. We can’t let that happen. He came back last time, but he trusts you. He was willing to do whatever you suggested. The gang wants him, and he knows things about their business they probably don’t want anyone else to know.”

  Ezran nodded. “He knows a lot. But he won’t tell anyone else.”

  He had told Ezran though. That was a start.

  “They don’t know that. And they won’t believe it. You get that, don’t you?”

  “I…” Ezran frowned. “Yeah, I get it. I don’t want him to get hurt. He’s cool.”

  “Okay, so stick with him. Show him what it’s like here. He can’t go back to school—they’ll find him. But he can finish his schooling here and learn how to fight.” Lawson held Ezran’s gaze, pleased when Ezran gave him a sharp nod. “Promise me you won’t risk yourself or Garet again and I promise I’ll talk to Noah. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Ezran gave him a hesitant smile. “That’s all I wanted. Like…you don’t gotta hide shit from me. I know Noah’s in charge. But he listens to you.”

  “To some extent, yes.” Lawson relaxed back against the wall. “He also wants to give you a good life. And I think…he doesn’t want you to see him there because he wants you to remember him when he was free. When he was able to take care of you. Now he can’t do anything and that’s rough on him.”

  Ezran drew in a sharp breath and shook his head. “Damn it, I didn’t think about that. You didn’t tell him I ran away again, did you?”

  “No. I…I didn’t want to admit I’d fucked up. I was supposed to keep you safe.”

  “You have.”

  “Have I?” Lawson shot the boy a sideways glance. “It would have taken one man from that gang to spot you.”

  “And I’d deserve whatever I got for being an idiot.”

  “Really? Would you say the same for Garet?” Lawson inclined his head when Ezran frowned and shook his. “I imagine he feels the same about you. He wants to look out for you too.”

  “Ugh, why does everything have to be so complicated?”

  “I have no idea.” Lawson let out a soft laugh. “Are we good?”

  Ezran wrinkled his nose. Hunched his shoulders. “I guess. But can you tell Curtis me scrubbing all the toilets in the building with a toothbrush is inhumane?”

  “No.”

  “Damn.” Ezran chewed on his bottom lip. “Can you tell Reed not to hate me?”

  Fuck, the kid was breaking his heart. He pulled him in for another hug. “He doesn’t hate you. You’re scaring him. Just…stop. Okay?”

  “I’ll try.” With a sniffle, Ezran slipped off the bed and stood. “I gotta go do my chemistry homework. Doc offered to help and if I’m late he’ll delete the file like twenty times and make me read about serial killers all night.”

  That…did not sound good. Since when had Doc become an acceptable tutor for the teens?

  When he voiced the question out loud, Ezran burst out laughing. “I asked him to teach me ‘cause he’s doing good with Garet. Curtis said no at first and I insisted and he said I’d regret it.”

  “Do you?”

  “Sometimes. But Doc is smart. He taught me a lot and I have my own fucked up memories, you know? The books?? They keep me up at night, but I can deal with the nightmares. Those things didn’t happen to me.”

  “But…Ezran, if you need to talk about what did happen—”

  Ezran gave him a blank look. “Law, I get you think this is an issue, but it’s not. I lost my favorite jeans. Noah showed up. The end.”

  That sounded like Ezran had compartmentalized the whole thing, but Laws
on didn’t have the first clue how to push him past that. And he might do more damage by trying.

  So he let it go. For now. “You’re grounded for three months, but after that…I was serious about the bike. We can work on it together. You’ll still get paid for the work you do, but you won’t get a cent until then. But I’ll order the parts anyway.”

  Ezran shot off the bed and his eyes went wide. “Are you for real?”

  “Yes.” Lawson sat forward, then pushed to his feet. “Don’t make me regret it.”

  Throwing himself in Lawson’s arms, Ezran swore he’d do better. Picked up a notebook and began writing. Somehow, Lawson had gotten through to him.

  This was good. He felt like he’d actually made a difference as he left the loft and made his way down to the bar. Most Sundays he’d get a workout in, then relax while watching a movie and going over the books. Today, he had no interest in his typical routine. He’d slept later than usual, which was a welcome reprieve from the endless grind. Falling asleep next to Matt had been fucking nice. Not only having his warm, willing body available through the night. Just holding him.

  Waking up to his bright smiles and burst of energy first thing would take some getting used to, but Lawson had enjoyed that as well once he’d shaken off the dregs of sleep. He couldn’t resent being woken by someone who came bearing coffee, which Matt had picked up on, thank God. The last thing Lawson wanted was to ruin what they had going between them because he wasn’t fit company before he’d gotten his caffeine fix.

  If Matt and Reed were finished with the pool tables, he’d invite Matt to join him for his workout. Maybe start on his training. He’d might be a bit sore from being so well used last night, but some exercise would speed his recovery. That was Lawson’s experience, in any case. A nice burn from some lifts and a bit of cardio would loosen the man up. His dick might be sore from being bound and handled roughly last night, but Lawson had a few ideas on how to make it feel better.

  Give the man a fucking day, you horny asshole. Lawson’s lips slanted as he silently laughed at himself. He’d gone weeks with barely any interest in sex before and now hours seemed too long. Matt’s eagerness to please him was damn addictive.

  And his mouth isn’t sore…

  “Come on, pretty boy. Show me you’re a man and not just Noah’s abandoned toy.”

  Shit. At the top of the stairs, Lawson quickened his pace. That was Ram in the bar, likely targeting Reed since he wasn’t stupid enough to go after Matt when both Lawson and Curtis had made their very public claim on him last night. Dislocating his arm should have kept him out of commission for more than a day, but that wouldn’t stop him from issuing a challenge to mollify his wounded pride.

  “If you want a fight that bad, Ram, why don’t you just say so?” Matt’s tone was rough with anger as he raised his voice over Reed’s startled protest. “Otherwise you’re just talking shit and it’s getting old.”

  “Are you accepting the challenge for him then, fuckboy?”

  Lawson rounded the corner at Ram’s words, gritting his teeth as Curtis stepped out of the bathroom and cut him off. He tried to shove Curtis aside, but Curtis grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him close.

  “He’ll never be respected here if you treat him like he’s too weak to stand on his own.” Curtis spoke quietly, releasing Lawson’s shirt, but continued to block him from the bar. “He has our protection, but he’s still a fighter. Let him fucking fight if he wants to.”

  “He doesn’t know the rules.”

  Curtis’s brow lifted. “What rules? That he could get his ass kicked and fuckers fight dirty here? I think he’s figured that out.”

  Lawson pressed his eyes shut and shook his head. The front door of the bar opening and closing told him Ram had gotten his answer. He’d be fighting Matt. But under what terms?

  When he and Curtis walked into the bar, Matt was trying to stop Reed from banging his head repeatedly on the bar top. He laughed and put a pile of napkins on the wood surface to cushion the blow.

  Reed groaned. “Lawson is going to kill me.”

  “Lawson is not that unreasonable.” Lawson folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the bar next to Matt, staring down at him as the man seemed to take great interest in the buttons on Lawson’s shirt. “You accepted a challenge from Ram?”

  Matt’s lips twisted in a grimace as he lifted his gaze. “Yeah, but don’t be mad. I’ve fought men his size before.”

  “I’m not mad that you’re going to fight him. I’m not pleased that I’ll have to stand by and watch him fuck you if you lose.” Lawson sighed at Matt’s wide-eyed look. “It’s called ‘the usual’ for a reason, Matt. It’s in the bloody contract you signed yesterday. If you’d challenged him, you’d have been able to dictate the terms. Instead, you gave him full control.”

  “Shit.” Matt’s face paled. “I have to win.”

  “Yes, you do.” Lawson let his arms fall to his sides. There was no point in dwelling on what couldn’t be changed. Curtis was right, Matt wouldn’t gain any respect as a fighter if Lawson shielded him from everything, but if he beat Ram he’d be considered a worthy opponent. He exchanged a look with Curtis, then motioned for Matt to follow him. “Come. Let’s see what we have to work with. You too, Reed. Your skills will come in handy.”

  That got him a curious look from Matt as they made their way ringside. “What can Reed teach me that you can’t?”

  “How to keep your mouth shut for one.” Reed grumbled as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the stack of folded metal chairs. “Not sure why you’re letting him do this, Law. I’ve got a better solution. Involves Ram’s break line and some cutters.”

  Curtis pulled Reed into a headlock and kissed the top of his head. “You’re so cute when you’re homicidal.”

  “Bite me.”

  Snorting, Curtis nipped Reed’s ear. “Any other requests?”

  All the fight went out of Reed as he slumped in Curtis’s hold and pressed his lips shut.

  Lawson shook his head, then returned his focus to Matt. “Reed can teach you the only thing you can learn in a week that guarantees Ram will never lay a hand on you outside of this ring.”

  Taking off his own shirt, Matt bounced in place, rolling his shoulders as he warmed himself up. “And what’s that?

  “How to cheat.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  There was nothing quite like living with your own stink for twelve hours a day. Sweat trickled down Matt’s face, stinging his eyes. Shirt and skin soaked, there was nowhere left for him to dry off, not until he had a break and could grab his towel. Circling opposite Reed, he kept a respectable distance between them. The last time the guy had gotten in a hit, Matt had seen stars. Fatigue rolled over him, making him stumble, but they had five minutes to go on the clock.

  “Dude. You can’t hit me if you’re all the way over there.”

  As far as Matt could tell, he couldn’t hit the side of a barn with a truck and a map, but Reed was right.

  “Get in there, Matt. Don’t make me take his place.” Looking up from his phone, Curtis threw the warning from his seat on the wooden bar stool he’d dragged in.

  “Lay off.” Matt wasted precious energy biting Curtis’s head off, then rushed Reed.

  The other man sidestepped, grabbed him by the arms and spun him back against the ropes so he bounced with his own momentum and landed, arms outstretched, on his knees.

  Curtis laughed. “Doesn’t matter how much you want it, Matt, Lawson’s not going to fuck you until you win.”

  At the mention of Lawson, Matt began to push to his feet. Too late. Reed, who’d followed him down, got his arms around Matt’s shoulders and neck.

  “Fuck.” Back straining, Matt spat the curse.

  Curtis chuckled again. “Nope. Not Reed either.”

  Matt growled his frustration and heaved upward, ignoring the fire spiking along his spine. Reed could fucking sprain his neck, he wasn’t tapping out. Last time he’d done that
, Curtis had made him do laps.

  “Stop, stop, stop.” Curtis bounded over the ropes. “Matt, you have to learn how to break that hold. It’s one of Ram’s favorites.”

  Reed stood, letting up Matt, who shook out his arms and rolled his neck.

  “Why don’t you just truss me up and hand me to him now?” Self-defeating words spewed from him on autopilot. “It’s not like everyone doesn’t already know how this is going to end.”

  “Hey—” Curtis put his hand on Matt’s shoulder.

  Reflex took over and Matt grabbed and twisted, flipping Curtis to the mat before he or the other man had time to think.

  On his back, Curtis grinned, starting to laugh. “Fuck. Now that’s what I’m talking about.” Pushing up on his elbows, he regarded Matt. “We’ve just got to get you to use some of that anger the right way. Add some forethought and you’d be golden.”

  “Look.” Matt pushed a hand through his hair. “I have ten years of training in how to do things the right way, and you’re asking me to unlearn all that and do them the wrong way. In less than a week. I don’t know if I know how to give up that kind of…” Looking around the gym, he noted the darkness beyond the high windows. “It’s the only thing I get.”

  There was a dance to fighting in tournaments. Expected and accepted moves and counter moves. He could block a kick because he knew his opponent’s height would have him coming in at a higher or lower angle. He knew if he punched with the heel of his palm, straight out, he’d be blocked if he was too slow or too far away. Everything in his past experience was about precise timing and reflex and practice. He could do katas in his sleep, and at one time that knowledge had been comforting.