Flawed Justice

by Tibby Armstrong

  Stress melting from his shoulders, Matt grinned and pushed through the crowd to make his way to the floor around the ring where Ram and Curtis already stood. As he neared the opposite side of the ring, the song ended and Reed bowed to the men’s hoots and cheers.

  “Are you ready?” Reed shouted the question to the crowd from his place at the center of the ring, working them up. “To party?”

  Matt rolled his head, loosening his neck, breathing and flexing, the right kind of adrenaline coursing to his limbs.

  “I was ready before you were born!” The shouted joke had catcalls rising from the crowd.

  “Get out of my fucking way.” Ram elbowed a smaller guy from the edge of the ring and went for the stairs.

  Reed blocked him, his foot coming up to rest on the second rope from the bottom, putting a big black rubber boot that went halfway up his shin on display.

  “You know why I’m wearing these?” Reed leaned over the rope, forearm on his knee, addressing Ram. “Because you’re gonna shit yourself when my boy, Matt, kicks your ass.”

  Ram leered at Reed, pushing up his sleeves. “You’re up next, Sparkles.”

  Matt, halfway through his pre-fight stretching and knuckle cracking, stiffened.

  “If there’s anything left of—” Reed, laughing, lifted his pinkie, curling it. “—Mr. Winkles when Matt’s finished with him, I have a nice slice of humbler pie to serve you upstairs.”

  The crowd roared, money exchanged hands, and Matt realized that Reed had just offered to take Ram upstairs and dominate him, probably in some Medieval torture fashion.

  Ram lunged, but Curtis held him back.

  “Cool it, Ram.” Curtis bit his lip, humor lighting his eyes. “...Sparkles.” He snorted, patting Ram on the back. “I’ll have to remember that. And congratulate the kid when he’s got your balls in that vice.”

  All swagger gone, a red-faced Ram glared at Curtis and jabbed a finger in Reed’s direction. “He can’t ref. And neither can you. You’re not impartial.”

  Conversation lulled, turning to muttered agreement, all attention firmly off Matt. He sighed, taking the time to close his eyes and breathe. Just channel the adrenaline and let it work for, not against, him.

  “Hey, Doc.”

  “Yes?” Doc replied from Matt’s side of the floor near the ring.

  Matt opened his eyes, noting that Doc had on what Matt had come to think of as his business clothes. A black shirt and slacks that wouldn’t be ruined if he got blood all over them.

  Eyes on Doc, Curtis notched his chin in the direction of the ring. “Mind stepping in as ref?”

  Doc nodded, piercing blue eyes glinting. “It would be my pleasure.”

  Someone turned off the disco ball and the caged gymnasium lights came up, illuminating the faces of the crowd. Ram took off his red plaid shirt, tossed it to one of his boys, and climbed into the ring. Matt shucked his shoes and entered from his side. Meeting Reed in the blue corner, he licked his lips and tried for a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.

  Handing him his water bottle, Reed gripped Matt’s wrist and glanced down meaningfully. He held two small objects in his free hand. A packet of glitter and a vial of smelling salts glued together.

  Reed raised his brows meaningfully. “You got me?”

  Matt nodded. If he needed those salts, he could disguise it with the glitter. “You’re a sly sonofabitch.”

  Reed grinned. “You use what ya got.”

  Pocketing both objects, Matt handed Reed back the water bottle, breathed deep, and faced Ram. Doc stood in the middle of the ring, glasses off, and cast a knowing look at Matt’s pocket. Matt ignored him, moving to the center of the ring. Shirtless, Ram no longer appeared heavy-set. Meaty pecs and beefy arms sported military tats. A respectable six pack and solid middle showed why his loose fitting shirts made him appear more thick than muscular. Matt bet it was a mistake many men had made, and it would have cost them.

  Doc nodded, stepped back, and Matt, hands lightly resting at the middle of his sternum the way Curtis had shown him, feinted a step forward.

  Ram grinned, not taking the bait.

  “I see you’ve been hanging out with Ponyboy. He likes to prance like that.” Ram circled with him, eyes slitting. “When I get you upstairs, I’m gonna put a tail on you like Noah done to Curtis once. Put a bit in your mouth and ride you like it’s the Grand National.”

  The Outsiders had been one of his mom’s favorite movies, he’d watched it with her whenever it was on TV, so Matt got that reference, but the rest of Ram’s shit made no sense.

  Recalling Lawson’s demeanor in the ring, Matt kept his mouth shut. Right now, he needed to fucking focus on the man’s weak spots. That dislocated shoulder wouldn’t have fully healed yet. He glanced down at a barely perceptible limp and remembered Reed’s insider information about a nastily broken ankle from a previous fight.

  Matt knew he’d made a mistake even before he looked back up.

  Ram’s incoming punch would have snapped his head back, possibly ending the fight in one blow, if not for Curtis’s Aikido hand position training. Matt managed a sloppy block and ducked out of the way, bounding to the other side of the ring.

  A few of the men outside the ring called out the things they wanted Ram to do to Matt in the dungeon.

  Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Matt kept moving. He hadn’t seen Lawson enter the gym, but he knew he’d be disappointed that Matt had made such a rookie mistake not even thirty seconds in.

  Ram, smelling blood, prowled now, circling, attempting to back Matt into a corner.

  “Just fucking hit him!” Reed’s frustrated shout brought Matt’s head up.

  He ducked around Ram. Used the side of his fist on his way by in a kidney strike. The man grunted and whirled, going for a grapple that grazed Matt’s arm.

  Curtis’s instructions buzzed through his brain along with Reed’s and his sensei’s. Everything was too fucking loud in his head.

  Don’t let him get the first swing. Use your hands. Elbows. Hell, teeth if you have to, but don’t let him get you on the ground.

  Everyone’s voice but Lawson’s.

  Ram closed the distance between them, forcing Matt to the defense. For a man his size, he moved fast. His fists came in a blur. Each block only led to another. No room to strike back. A punch landed on his shoulder and he staggered into the ropes.

  Using the momentum, he launched himself back into the fray. Snapped a kick at Ram’s instep, accompanied with a jab to his face. Ram grabbed his fist, squeezed and twisted, bringing Matt’s arm around.

  Shit. This move would trap him from behind. Matt dropped and ducked under Ram’s arm, panting as fear clawed his chest. He had to get a grip.

  “Slippery fucker, aren’t you?” Ram rushed in again, this time managing to get both arms around Matt’s middle and lifted him in the air so they were face to face. “Just wait until I get you all lubed up, boy. You’ll be slick as a pig in shit then.”

  Eyes going wide at the vision of himself restrained and kneeling before Ram while the man worked his hole open wrenched Matt’s guts until he didn’t know if the pain was from Ram’s hold or his own revulsion.

  Ram squeezed harder and Matt’s ribs creaked. He gasped, trying to get air, vision spotting. Had to remind himself he still had options.

  Teeth. Knees.

  Twisting, Matt bit the fleshy part of Ram’s cheek and jerked his head. The other man’s grip spasmed and loosened, giving Matt room to bring up his knee. Ram stumbled back and Matt dropped to his haunches. He expected a punch. What he didn’t see coming was a kick. The blow hit him in the chin, snapping up his head. He didn’t remember landing against the bottom rope, but when he opened his eyes, Ram was coming for him.

  Fuck. Lawson. I’m so sorry.

  Ram landed on him, grabbed Matt’s hair and pushed his face into the ground. Wetness slid Matt’s cheek along the canvas and he realized his chin had split open. If the man got him in a chokehold in thi
s position, Matt was dead meat. Ram fell toward him. Rolling, Matt brought his elbow back and up, impacting the fleshy area just above Ram’s left pec. Ram grunted and kept coming, but the brief moment’s respite gave Matt time to roll to his back.

  Ram loomed above him, lips pulled back from his teeth, forearm against Matt’s neck. “You like missionary better, boy?”

  Curling his legs up and around Ram’s waist, Matt gave credence to Ram’s assertion, and the crowd went nuts with catcalls. Matt forced his attention to Ram and squeezed. The man bore down with his forearm, and Matt twisted with his hips, swinging the heel of his hand to the side of Ram’s cheek against the bite wound. Momentum gave Matt the upper hand, and he used it to break Ram’s hold and rock to his feet where he would be less likely to get taken out with a nasty punch to the face.

  Just a matter of time…

  It was as if Matt’s arms had turned wooden. He walked through molasses, the effort to move his feet and legs taking more focus than was good. Ram was used to this world, and no karate tournament or week in a ring with Curtis and Reed was going to change Matt’s ability to match that. Maybe that was why Lawson hadn’t wanted to train with him. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to waste his time on a losing bet.

  Ram’s next punch caught Matt squarely in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping. Snapped up and back with the uppercut that followed. Vision swimming, Matt shook his head to clear it. Saw double Rams.

  Hopefully, he’d still be unconscious when the guy took him upstairs.

  Ram hit him again, spinning him around with the force of the blow. Everything slowed. Falling forward, Matt hung onto the ropes. Slid down. Caught someone’s gaze close to the ring. Green eyes... Matt frowned.

  Lawson?

  “Move.” Sharp and simple, Lawson’s one-word directive bypassed Matt’s brain and went straight to his central nervous system.

  Matt heaved, using the ropes for leverage, and snapped his head back, knowing Ram was behind him. Ram stumbled, using the contact to grab Matt and get him into that fucking full nelson he loved so much.

  Out of the frying pan…

  Matt executed the maneuver Curtis had taught him, twisted and brought one dangling arm around Ram’s tree trunk of a thigh. One problem. No way could Matt lift the fucker, he weighed too goddamn much. Using the only option open to him, Matt fell sideways, bringing Ram with him. A strategically angled elbow impacted bone, and its snap echoed from the gymnasium walls.

  Ram gasped.

  Matt kept coming.

  Two blows to his nose and the side of his hand to Ram’s throat. Matt kept on punching until someone pulled him off the man. Hot blood streamed down his chin. He tried to lunge again. Determined arms held fast as Doc knelt by Ram.

  Chest heaving, Matt slowly came back to himself. The crowd was silent. Only then did Matt realize Ram had tapped out. But he’d never noticed.

  The restraining grip around him made it hard not to panic, but the familiar scent reached beyond his adrenaline fueled haze. He stopped struggling as Lawson let out a soft laugh.

  “It’s over.”

  Matt’s legs almost gave out, but Lawson held him steady. Remained by his side as Doc lifted his hand to declare him the winner. Words that meant nothing.

  Lawson was here. And he was taking him home.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Outwardly, he remained calm, but inside, Lawson’s mind was a riot of emotions he had no idea how to filter out. That had been close. He’d known it would be. He’d stood by Noah’s side when Reed was the one in the ring with Ram. Sensed the moment Noah almost broke down and got in that fucking ring himself to end the match. Blood had smeared Reed’s face and his lips were losing color.

  Closing his eyes now, Lawson could see Matt in his place. The blood. The defeat in Matt’s eyes when he’d given up. No one would have stopped Lawson from saving his man, just like no one would have even tried to keep Noah from his ward.

  He’d made the same choice Noah had.

  But he doubted Noah had hated himself for it this much after.

  A ridiculous way to feel, but… He looked down at Matt who had his head on his lap where he sat on the sofa in his loft. Lawson had a clean cloth pressed to Matt’s chin to stanch the blood, but when he’d tried to move away to get his medical kit to seal and bandage the wound, Matt had caught his wrist. Muttered something Lawson couldn’t quite make out, but he knew what the request was.

  “Stay.”

  Matt thought he’d been abandoned during the fight. And why wouldn’t he? Lawson hadn’t wanted to distract him. Hadn’t wanted his own fear to make Matt doubt himself. Instead, he’d let the man he wasn’t sure he could survive losing feel completely alone.

  Not completely. Curtis was there for him. As was Reed.

  “It should have been me.”

  Shifting slightly, Matt stared up at him. “What?”

  Lawson’s shook his head. “Nothing.”

  The man had been through enough. He didn’t need to deal with Lawson’s messed up emotions on top of it. Whatever his fear or his doubts in his own abilities, Matt had come out of that match the victor. He’d done that on his own.

  And Lawson wouldn’t take that away from him by saying he never should have been in that position in the first place. He wasn’t on his own. He’d given Lawson control, but it was meaningless. One wrong move and he wouldn’t be in Lawson’s arms right now. He’d be broken down, bloody, and in the dungeon. With Ram. Being used like a toy. A trophy. His failure on display. His pride shattered.

  But at least he’d be able to stay, right?

  How many times would Matt have to sacrifice himself? How many times would Lawson have to stand back and just accept it? Help Matt put himself back together the next time he bit off more than he could chew?

  He was brave and loyal and reckless and still so fucking innocent. Everything Lawson wanted to preserve in him. Everything he loved about the man.

  The word made his jaw harden. He couldn’t go there. Not tonight. Not when Matt needed something much more solid from him. His control. His strength. The protection he’d been powerless to offer when Matt had chosen to step into that ring.

  In the ring, Matt had no choice but to face any threat on his own.

  It would be a long time before Lawson let him climb over those ropes again.

  A soft knock at the door shifted his focus from his thoughts. His eyes narrowed as the lock clicked.

  “Law?” Curtis came in first, Doc a step behind him. His expression was cautious as he crossed the room. He crouched down in front of Lawson, glancing at Matt before lifting his gaze. “How is he?”

  “He’s fine. He doesn’t need you.” Lawson pressed his lips shut. That wasn’t true. That hadn’t been true since Matt had come here. But tonight, he would care for his man himself. “You can go.”

  Curtis nodded slowly. “It’s like that, is it?”

  “Leave.”

  “Or what? If you’re looking for someone to fight, let’s do this. You had to sit on your fucking hands and watch him get the shit kicked out of him and it’s eating at you. Figured it would.” Curtis rose and jutted his chin toward Doc. “But you’re going to let our buddy here take a look at him, one way or another.”

  That would be a good idea, but Lawson tensed as Doc moved toward Matt. “I can take care of him.”

  Doc dropped his medical bag on the coffee table and shot Lawson a dry look. “He needs stitches. If you want to try and learn on that gash on his chin, I’m game.”

  “Stitches.” Lawson couldn’t push the numbness out of his head. But for some reason he laughed. “I suppose his first set being because of me is something at least.”

  “Yeah, you’re not doing this to yourself. Get up.” Curtis clasped his hand to Lawson’s, pulling him to his feet as Doc gently eased a dazed Matt up and onto a large cushion. He pointed to the armchair less than a foot away. “Sit there. Hold his hand. I’m getting you a fucking drink.”

  Lawson sat and reach
ed out, relaxing slightly as Matt’s cool hand found his. He watched Doc prep a needle to numb the area around the jagged wound, which was larger than he’d realized. Ram’s massive fists could do a lot of damage. Probably some that Lawson hadn’t seen.

  Keeping Doc from tending to him would be foolish, but it took every ounce of strength to stay where he was and not slam his fist into the side of Doc’s head as he disinfected the wound and Matt hissed in a breath.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  “Here.” Curtis pressed a glass of whiskey into Lawson’s free hand, bringing his own to his lips and taking a few gulps before taking a seat on the arm of the chair. “If you won’t say it, I will. He had no business getting into the ring with that fucker.”

  Tossing back the whiskey in two swallows, Lawson shook his head. “It was his choice to make.”

  “Bullshit. What choice did he have, really?” Curtis reached out to grab the bottle he’d left on the coffee table beside Doc’s supplies and refilled Lawson’s glass. And his own. “We need to change the fucking rules.”

  Brow furrowed, Lawson looked up at the other man. “They’re Noah’s rules.”

  “Noah didn’t intend for them to be used like this.” Curtis shook his head, glass against his lips. “Ram could have killed him.”

  Blood running cold, Lawson clenched his hand around the glass. He wanted to shatter it, but he’d be even more useless if he couldn’t use his fists. “I’m aware.”

  “But is he?” Curtis put his hand on Lawson’s shoulder. “I get it, you fucking stepped back and respected his decision. I would’ve done the same. You can’t teach him to fight like you, so you let me and Reed handle it. And now you’re questioning every decision you made because he’s hurt.”