Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  Hell, only last week, Dallas had taken a turn. He’d removed his damn leather cuff from his right wrist when he thought Noah wasn’t looking—a signal that he’d planned to submit for the night—and suggested shots for old time’s sake as Matt got a grip on his temper.

  And Noah let it slide. Every. Single. Time.

  Enough is enough.

  Crossing the ring, he cupped Curtis’s cheek. Then slid his hand further to rake his fingers into his hair. “If I wanted something from you, Curtis, I’d snap my fucking fingers.” Curtis’s wince gave him pause, but then his eyes hardened. There you are, my man. Noah smiled. “Is this not established? Because say the word and we can work on it.”

  “I’m not your fucking sub.” Curtis sucked his teeth a let out a cold laugh as he jerked his hair from Noah’s grip. “I guess that much is obvious though, since he’s the only one you won’t discipline.”

  “And you just became much more interesting. Bravo.” Noah gave Curtis’s cheek a light tap. “Keep going.”

  “What’s the goddamn point?” Curtis spread his arms wide. “You want a fight that bad, let me know. I’m game. But you don’t get to go Dom-lite on your own sub and use someone else’s as your whipping boy.”

  Noah chuckled. You really want to go there? Fucking fine by me. “You seem to have benefited from my ‘Dom-lite’ with your boy, my man. Should we change that?”

  “Don’t, Noah.” Curtis’s nostrils flared. “I’m fucking warning you.”

  “But are you challenging me, Curtis?”

  “I—” Curtis pressed his fist to his lips. Closed his eyes before shaking his head and turning to Matt, who looked ready to challenge Noah himself. His blue eyes flared like molten steel until Curtis snapped his fingers in his face. “That’s enough for today. Actually, for good.” Curtis paused. “Noah was onto something with the very specific speech restrictions. You’re not to address any Doms besides me and Lawson, got it?”

  Face red, practically shaking with rage, Matt inhaled slowly. Then nodded.

  Curtis kissed the top of his head. “Good boy. Go up to your place to shower. I’ll check in later.”

  Another rescue. Noah’s lips thinned, but then he caught the uncertain look in Jamie’s eyes and relaxed his features. He wasn’t pleased that Jamie hadn’t learned even the basics, but that was Noah’s fault for choosing an instructor for him who couldn’t hold his attention and let his students do whatever the hell they wanted during lessons.

  “I’m not angry with you, Jamie.” Noah brushed his hand over Jamie’s hair, then pulled him to his chest, breathing in the warm vanilla and citrus scent of his pricey shampoo, which always settled his nerves. And made him hard, but now was not the time to be thinking with his dick. “I’ll take over your training, don’t worry.”

  “No...fuck, sir, Matt was doing a good job. Honest. I’ll try harder.” Jamie slipped away from him and walked to the edge of the ring before Matt passed through the double doors with Curtis. “Please, Matt? This is...it’s a misunderstanding, that’s all. Don’t give up on me.”

  Matt’s shoulders stiffened. His gaze skipped over Noah. Inhaling roughly, he turned and gave Jamie a closed-off smile. “Same time Wednesday?”

  “That would be great.” Relief filled Jamie’s eyes. “Thank you.”

  Well then. Nodding slowly as the door closed behind the two men, Noah ran his tongue over his teeth. Looked like his input hadn’t been needed here either. He climbed out of the ring, headed for the gym, sensing Jamie following close behind.

  In the open space beyond the various equipment lay a pile of wood pallets and a large orange shipping container they hadn’t bothered to have removed, both adding a harsh, industrial look to what had been one of three loading docks. The cement walls in here reminded him of the prison yard, and he pressed a button on the wall to open the large door to let the natural light in, ignoring the cold and the wind as he had when he’d been fenced in. At his mother’s place he’d enjoyed the open space, a dramatic shift from incarceration, but repairs had kept him too busy to focus on anything besides the next task. Here, he was closed in again. The gates around The Asylum as secure as the prison walls, which he had no reason to venture past.

  Not until he went to visit Mom, which would have to be soon or she’d start to worry. So far, a call every other day seemed to satisfy her, though she’d remarked that he called at the same time he had for the past two years. His routine hadn’t changed.

  How fucked up was it that he hadn’t even noticed?

  Pushing aside his unease, Noah began his routine of stretching out every muscle, eager for the burn of a tough workout. As he brought his arm to his chest with the press of the other, he studied the jagged scar on his wrist from a bad break when he’d been...hell, only fifteen.

  Cocky as fuck, big for his age and using his martial arts training to act like a big man in front of his father’s ‘friends’. He’d been on top of the world, eating up respect he hadn’t earned, determined to prove himself to a man who’d been a cold, distant presence in his life until Noah had shown interest in following in his footsteps. Then he’d started teaching him all he’d need to know. When he’d visited his father in prison and been entrusted with his contacts, he’d thought he’d finally become the son the man could be proud of. His new job made him feel important. The chance that he’d end up behind bars himself never occurred to him.

  When his uncle, Rhodey, hunted him down during a gun shipment across the border into Mexico, Noah’s only thought was the man would ruin everything.

  On his side, gritty sand burning the bare flesh of his arm, Noah glared up at the man he’d only met a handful of times. His mother treated the fucker like a hero, but she didn’t get it. The dude was the reason Dad had been arrested. The timing of Rhodey’s sudden appearance was no coincidence.

  “Get up, boy.” Rhodey’s gray eyes locked on him, none of the warmth from when he’d been introduced to Noah weeks ago there now. His fist meeting Noah’s face after he’d dragged him out of the truck made it clear what he thought of his nephew. “I’m taking you home.”

  “Like fuck you are.” Noah pulled out the gun he’d tucked into the back of his jeans. Pointed it right at his uncle. Then smirked. “How about you get back in your car? I’ve got work to do.”

  Brow raised, Rhodey stared down at Noah. “Looks like I do as well.”

  The man’s steel-toe boot connected with Noah’s wrist. The gun went off.

  A sharp cry tore from Noah’s lips. The gun hit the sand. Shattered bone. Blood. His stomach turned and he threw up, holding himself up with his one good hand until Rhodey latched on to the back of his shirt and hauled him to his feet.

  “Next time, you follow orders.” Rhodey dragged him to the back of his nondescript, black sedan and opened the door, tossing him inside. “One wrong move and I’ll make it look like you ran your fucking truck off the road. Better your mother think she lost you to an accident than have you put her through this shit again. Your father’s done enough damage.”

  Nervous laughter bubbled out of Noah’s chest as pain and nausea made his head swim. “You wouldn’t kill your own nephew.”

  Rhodey snorted. “I hardly know you, kid. Just like you don’t know the people that would’ve died because of those guns. And right now, their lives have more value.”

  Eight months of ‘training’ with Rhodey in Russia, which his uncle had told Mom was bonding time, before he was allowed home for a visit. He’d finally understood. Rhodey had saved him. His father was nothing but a dirty cop who’d been ready to sacrifice his own son to the criminal lifestyle that had put both him and his mother in danger again and again.

  The continued training for the next three years hadn’t been any easier, but Noah submitted to it willingly. Became strong enough that between him and Rhodey, their friends and family were safe from both the allies and enemies his father had made over the years.

  Noah could’ve continued to work for Rhodey, but he chose to beco
me an instructor at a training center run by one of Rhodey’s old friends. Help his mother with her business. Take care of the dogs and cats she was constantly fostering.

  And he began to find his own strays. Starting with Curtis.

  He shook his head and let out a soft laugh. It was a wonder the man didn’t hate him after what he’d put him through. His own version of Rhodey’s re-education. Then again, Noah loved Rhodey, so maybe it made some twisted sense. No matter how brutal his time with Rhodey had been, he’d grown to admire the man. Wanted to be just like him—without becoming a government gun-for-hire.

  Instead, he’d killed a small-time gangster because the control Rhodey drilled into him slipped the second he’d seen those men with their hands on his ward. He didn’t regret killing the bastard, but...the judge had been right. His training made him lethal and he’d used excessive force. Found himself behind bars where he belonged.

  Like father, like son.

  Finished with his stretches, Noah opened the gray metal supply closet and pulled out the tape for his knuckles and wrists. He took in the high ceilings as he meticulously applied the tape. This place had been a dream of his, Lawson’s, and Curtis’s. Somewhere they could indulge in all their darkest fantasies, their love of fighting, while escaping the horrors of their pasts. Find sanctuary from outside judgment and restrictions. Somewhere they could belong.

  But he didn’t. Not anymore.

  Maybe never again.

  Jamie sat on the edge of a weight bench. He rubbed his hands on his arms until Noah brought him the black hoodie he’d hung on a hook beside the supply closet yesterday. His eyes fixed on Noah as he slid his arms into the sleeves. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind.” He considered his boy for a moment. “Jamie...if you decide to go back to life under the spotlight, you won’t need to fight. You’ll have bodyguards and be living in your big fancy house. But—”

  “Wait.” Jamie brought his knees to his chest, hugging them as he stared at him. “You think I want to leave?”

  You will. Noah sighed and shook his head, tugging the zipper of the hoodie up to Jamie’s chin. “That’s not the point. You’re here now. I don’t intend to leave you alone very often, but as much as I might enjoy it, I can’t keep you chained to my side twenty-four-seven.”

  The edge of Jamie’s lips curved, likely to tell him all the reasons he could do exactly that.

  With a soft chuckle, Noah framed his jaw with one hand. “You need to be able to do your own thing. And I’m not going to the mall with you—you should go with Reed sometime, though. You’re both into that.”

  Jamie’s lips twisted into a dry smile. “I pay people to shop for me. Cruising shops for stuff I like with a bunch of papzz and ‘adoring’ fans is about as appealing as a cut-rate spa colonic.”

  Noah frowned. Did Jamie want to keep living like that? If so, he was in the wrong place. “Should I start looking for personal shoppers in Anniston Falls?”

  “No, I can manage on my own. I just...haven’t really thought about it.” He tugged at the hem of his shorts. “I’ve got plenty of stuff. I can have someone send it.”

  “Are you and Reed not getting along?”

  “We get along fine.” Jamie’s brow furrowed. “Why are you trying to pass me off on other people? I can entertain myself if you’re busy. I’m not five.”

  “I’m aware.” And he was very happy neither Curtis or Lawson was in the gym at the moment. He’d lost count of how many times he should’ve reined his sub in, but in this mind-frame, it wouldn’t be good for him. He took a deep breath. “Keep me company while I workout. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two about throwing a punch.”

  Nodding slowly, Jamie watched him take position in front of the bag. “Would you feel better if I could?”

  “Much.” Noah landed a few rapid jabs, the warming of his muscles a balm on his troubled mind. “Even more so if you managed to avoid walking into someone else’s fist.”

  “Hey!” Jamie laughed, hopping off the bench and coming over to give Noah a playful shove. “That was one time.”

  “That’s it.” Noah bent down and looped his arm around Jamie’s waist, throwing him over his shoulder and landing a solid smack on his ass when he wiggled. “Change of plan. I think you could use a different kind of workout.”

  Practically purring, Jamie stopped struggling and rubbed against him. “Yes, sir.”

  That made Noah chuckle. If nothing else, he could give his little cat what he needed in bed. Or against the wall. Or in the shower. Or wherever he damn well pleased. Sex was simple, and he never doubted his control when he had his boy beneath him. But Jamie’s submissive needs went beyond when they fucked, which Noah did his best to fulfill as well. Without limiting him in a way that wouldn’t do him any good once he went back to his old life.

  They reached the bar and Noah started for the stairs. Caught Lawson’s cold gaze from the end of the bar and slowed. He eased Jamie off his shoulder, setting him on his feet and jerking his chin for Jamie to continue on up. A glance between him and Lawson, and Jamie gave him a quick nod before ducking into the stairwell.

  Lawson moved behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of bourbon and holding it up, the offer in his eyes. It was just after noon, but Noah inclined his head, stepping up to the bar as the man poured them each a few fingers in a pair of elegant Glencairn glasses. Held his glass up in cheers when Noah took his own.

  Breathing in, Noah tipped the glass to his lips, savoring the smoky sweetness as he rolled the drink over his tongue. Moments like this, which he hadn’t experienced in a long time, were familiar. Comforting. Lawson’s ex hadn’t been able to beat the class of his upbringing out of him, no matter how hard he’d tried. Lawson could be as gritty and raw as any fighter Noah had ever known, but he loved these little quirks the man had.

  He noted that Lawson had started wearing jeans again and his lips slanted. While he’d been in prison his mother had expressed concern that the man had gone back to dressing like he’d be introduced to his father’s political opponents at any moment. At the time, teasing Lawson about not owning jeans was meant to make sure he didn’t lose himself to that stiff shield of professionalism. It had been taken as an order. Despite Lawson’s attempts to challenge Noah at every turn, some habits died hard.

  Or not at all.

  Good thing too, because he’d hate to mess up one of the man’s expensive suits if he got out of line.

  “Has the entire top shelf been reserved for you?” Noah took another sip, letting out a low, appreciative sound. “Not that I’m complaining, but I can’t imagine many truly appreciate the quality the way you do.”

  Lawson eyed him, the edge of his lips quirking. “Other than you?”

  “Mmm. You spoiled me.” The memories were nice, but that wasn’t why Lawson had wanted him to stay. “Is this when you issue another warning or have we gone beyond that?”

  Lowering his glass, Lawson considered him for a moment. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for Matt to train Jamie.”

  This did not sound like Lawson. He didn’t ‘think’ it was a good idea? Was he going to start tiptoeing around Noah as well? For fuck’s sakes, if the man wouldn’t take a firm stance for his own sub, Noah’s presence had done more damage than he’d ever imagined possible.

  So he shrugged, using the one thing he knew would get past Lawson’s careful attempt at civility. “Jamie wants him to continue.”

  “Jamie wants…” Lawson’s slow nod, the way he eased away from the bar, did nothing to hide the flash of anger in his eyes. “I don’t care what Jamie wants. If your sub doesn’t have the discipline to follow simple instructions, he shouldn’t be in the damn ring.”

  “Then tell your sub he can’t train him.” Noah took another sip, pretending not to notice how much his calm was aggravating the other man. “No need to make this complicated. You’re the one with the issue. Tighten your puppy’s leash.”

  “Don’t fucking call him that.�
��

  “Or what?” Noah smirked as Lawson’s jaw tensed. Now they were getting somewhere. But not to the heart of the matter. Not yet. He gave it another minute. “I like your boy, my man. I’d find far more creative names for him if I didn’t.”

  Rolling his shoulders, Lawson faced him. “You’re making sure he sees you as a constant threat.”

  “Have I threatened him? Lifted a hand to him?” He rested his elbows on the bar and steepled his fingers. “I’d love to see him in the ring, but I respect your new rules about not challenging a sub without their Dom’s approval. And I wouldn’t want to break your toys.”

  “You were trying to get Curtis to challenge you.”

  And there we have it. Noah’s brow lifted. “Does he need your permission? My apologies.”

  “I told you to—”

  “You don’t tell me anything, Lawson. That’s not how things work between us.”

  “They don’t fucking work at all anymore. You’re afraid you’ll break your own toy playing too rough, so you’re exerting the control you don’t have over him on everyone else.” Lawson tossed back the last of his bourbon and brought his glass to the sink. Returned, calm settling over him like the smooth fabric of one of his tailored suits. “Until you can see that for yourself, I’ll block you at every turn.”

  Noah smiled pleasantly at the other man. “You can try.”

  Lawson flattened his hands on the bar. Drew in a long, slow inhale. “You want a challenge, Noah? You have one. Friday, we end this.”

  The challenge wasn’t unexpected, but a small part of Noah regretted that it had come to this. There would be no friendly competition between them. But he couldn’t say he wasn’t looking forward to it. “The usual?”

  A slight tense of Lawson’s jaw was the only indication that he wasn’t as confident as he let off. Still, he inclined his head. “Of course.”

  While he was in prison, Noah had thought back on their time together so many fucking times. Missed how Lawson could go from so well put together to coming completely undone as they struggled for control between the sheets. No one ever lost.