Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  The man strode away, leaving Jamie staring after him, stunned.

  Not a real submissive?

  What the fuck had he been doing besides every single thing Noah wanted for weeks? He shuffled into the bar, considering his feet, and ran into Reed, who thank fuck had on something that involved pants, even though the risqué saying on the front was nowhere near safe for public.

  “Do you think I’m not a submissive?” He blurted the question.

  Reed’s brows rose, his tongue swiping his candy pink lips as he looked to the side. “Um... I mean, there are all kinds of ways to do stuff.”

  Jamie blinked. “Oh.”

  The house lights flickered and everyone began to mill toward the ring. Reed, moved along by the crowd, followed to assume his referee duties. The energy of the room was electric, but Jamie couldn’t appreciate the buzz. He’d looked forward to seeing Noah in the ring, his power and skill. Legendary stories about past fights between Lawson, Curtis, and Noah were regular bar fodder. Everyone had a story to tell about the dark-as-fuck things that the men got up to after.

  Jamie looked up at the stairs, the dungeon door across the landing at the top. He’d never seen the space outside of the night he’d been caned, not that he’d been able to look around. Noah preferred to play with him in the bar or in the privacy of his loft. Frowning, he looked toward the ring. Was that because he didn’t belong there? Did Noah not think of him as a real submissive either? And did it really matter?

  As long as me and Noah are happy, who gives a fuck?

  The lights flickered again, and he made himself go into the gym. At the back, Jamie couldn’t see shit as Noah and Lawson came in from the locker room. He skirted around the edge of the crowd. No one paid attention to him. A unique experience, not being the entertainment for once.

  On the opposite side of the ring, he found a gap and squeezed through, using his smaller stature to his advantage until he stood at the side of the ring. The fight had already begun.

  Focus lasered in on Lawson, Noah circled. Locked and loaded. Black shorts exposed muscular legs, their loose lines a reminder rather than a detractor of the power underneath. A white tank showed off arms that were bent, fists close to Noah’s face. The brown curls and dark sweep of lowered brows transfixed Jamie even more than the man’s brutally precise movements.

  Something’s off…

  The off-kilter energy could be from Tracey’s presence. Noah must’ve seen her before he’d entered the ring, and as much as he loved his mother, there was no telling how he’d feel fighting in front of her. Would he hold back? Worry about what she thought of him? This wasn’t exactly a regulation match. The prize wasn’t exactly something a guy could write home about.

  Dear mom, I kicked this guy’s ass and got to chain him up and fuck him...

  A solid punch from Lawson sent Noah backward, against the ropes close to Jamie. Wincing, he internally cut off any attempt to guess what Noah might be thinking. He should’ve let the man know about his mom so he could mentally prepare. The grim smile on Lawson’s lips said he’d take whatever advantage he got. But he didn’t press forward as Noah pushed away from the ropes, regaining his bearings. Something in him seemed to settle, and he gave Lawson a slight nod. The silent exchange between the men told Jamie an understanding had been reached. Only...he couldn’t tell if that was good.

  Or really, really bad.

  Every fight Jamie had seen in Vegas had seemed to either drag out because nobody wanted to get hit or end quickly because someone got in a powerful face punch. Not that he’d paid much attention, finding videos or music on his phone more interesting.

  So, when Noah’s first hit cracked through the gym, spinning Lawson’s head around, Jamie figured they were done. But the man shook off the temporary daze, blood spraying onto his shirt. Rushed Noah with a knee-elbow combo that looked fucking illegal.

  Bets swam around him, people shouting and calling out encouragement. A higher voice, Tracey’s, rose above the crowd, along with a wolf whistle.

  A cold smile lifting his lips, Noah came in with a blur of punches, forcing Lawson to bring his hands up into a defensive posture. Head lowered, Lawson resisted giving up ground, but inch by inch Noah forced him backward toward the ropes. Before he reached the boundary, Noah executed a right cross-jab. Grabbed Lawson’s leg to toss him off balance. Came up with a sweeping kick to Law’s ribs that made the man grunt.

  On the floor on the opposite side of the ring, Reed jutted his chin, expression fucking feral. Lip curled, fists by his chest, he looked like he thought he might be in the ring facing off with Noah himself.

  Watching Reed, Jamie mostly missed Lawson’s head butt to Noah’s chin. The crack of bone against bone brought on a blood-thirsty cheer from the members. Too close to the ropes, Noah bounced, but used the momentum to propel himself into Lawson with his shoulder. Grappled Lawson, throwing him to the mat hard. The other man bounced once, then used his shoulders to roll back. Locked onto Noah’s legs with his feet.

  Noah toppled, controlling his fall so he went toward and not away from Lawson. Satisfaction sparked in his gaze, like he’d maneuvered the whole fucking thing. Had Lawson exactly where he wanted him. Beneath him.

  Sweat and muscles, grunts that reminded Jamie of brutal fucking, burned new pathways across his brain. God, he wanted to be in that ring, under Noah, under Lawson. Under them both. Dancing toward some dark destiny.

  Kneeling, his torso curled, Noah pressed his forearm into the side of Lawson’s neck. Lawson brought up both fists, their impact thwarted by the twist of Noah’s shoulders.

  “Give.” Noah gritted his teeth, the plump vein standing out against his temple, and pressed his knee into Law’s ribs, his elbow hyperextending the man’s neck.

  Lawson gained a little room with an inelegant shove. Twisted and rolled, breaking the hold before gaining his feet. “Sorry. Not making it that easy for you.”

  Noah’s alien expression marked him as the most dangerous predator in the room. “That’s good. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten everything I taught you.”

  Breathing hard, Lawson circled lazily. Level with the mat, Jamie saw the man’s toes flex. The slightest hint telegraphed his movement. He was going to kick. Or use his knee.

  A blur of punches came first, then one knee toward Noah’s chest. Noah caught Lawson’s leg, circling his arms, squeezing to dampen the impact. The position left him open briefly to Lawson’s fist. A right hook sent Noah’s head snapping, but he only tightened his grip, hobbling Lawson and bringing him to the floor again. Noah landed on his ribs. This time with his knee.

  The crack was audible. Jamie covered his ears with his hands. “Shit.”

  Panting, Lawson unbalanced Noah, who toppled forward, grabbing and rolling with Lawson, trapping the man under him.

  “Give, my man.” Forcing his neck up, forearm around Lawson’s neck, Noah issued the warning.

  Gaze clouded with pain, eyes level with Jamie’s, Lawson shook his head. Sweat ran in rivulets down Noah’s face onto Lawson’s skin. Nodding once, Noah seemed to come to some decision.

  Jamie couldn’t look away when Noah rolled Lawson to his back in a flurry of movement, straddled his chest. Struck him hard. Twice. Sent his head cracking first one direction, then the other. The crowd gasped.

  Chest heaving, gaze fixed on the man beneath him, Noah didn’t move for a suspended moment. Everyone held their collective breath.

  Reed bounded into the ring, Doc alongside him, breaking the spell. Everyone roared as Noah allowed Reed to bring him to his feet and raise his arm into the air. “Our winner!”

  Noah looked out over the heads of the crowd and Jamie followed his gaze. Tracey stood on a raised platform at the opposite end of the gym, regarding her son with inscrutable eyes, sipping her bourbon. She nodded once. Climbed down and disappeared into the crowd.

  Then Noah’s focus fell on Jamie, while Doc and Reed flitted around Lawson. Curtis jumped into the ring as the crowd began to fil
ter away.

  Unsure for the first time in a while what he should do, Doc’s words ringing in his ears, he bit his lip and tried to at least look like a submissive. He started to lower his gaze, but Noah’s gesture stopped him, beckoning him up into the ring. Kinda getting crowded, but if Noah wanted him there, that was where he’d be.

  Pulling himself up the side instead of using the stairs, he made an awkward scramble into the ring. Drawing him in, one arm around his shoulders, Noah kissed the top of his head. Sweat and blood dotted his skin, more of the first, slicking Jamie’s cheek.

  Ignoring it, Jamie tipped his head back to smile up at his Dom. “Congratulations, sir.”

  Biceps flexing against Jamie, hand holding him securely to his side, Noah moved him out of the way into the far corner of the ring. “Did you have a nice day with Tracey, little cat?”

  Behind Noah, Curtis stiffened, his attention cutting to Noah’s back. He started to stand, a need for vengeance written all over his face, but Doc’s hand wrapped around his wrist in a way that made Jamie wince with the memory of his own bones grinding together in the man’s grip.

  Following Jamie’s gaze, Noah looked over his shoulder in time to see Doc’s headshake. Curtis gave in, expression closed off as he stuck by Lawson, almost guarding him while his eyes opened with a glassy, faraway look.

  “Eyes on me, pet.” Ignoring the brewing drama on the other side of the ring, Noah brought Jamie’s attention back to him.

  The order was a comfort Jamie sank into. Tipping his face up, he asked for a kiss, but tried to keep the expectation out of his eyes. “What do you usually do after fights?”

  Noah’s pupils widened, his expression darkening. His kiss was salty, his tongue heated. Jamie opened to him, moaning, and fisted the ropes behind him on either side.

  When Noah lifted his head, gaze searching, Jamie made sure he saw naked interest there. “Would you like to see?”

  Ignoring the movement behind Noah as Curtis and Doc helped Lawson out of the ring, Jamie nodded slowly.

  He wanted anything his Dom chose to give.

  Chapter Twelve

  That last hit…

  What the hell is wrong with you?

  Noah struggled to lock his focus on Jamie. On his excitement. On his needs. The fight ended as it should. He didn’t need to worry about an attack from behind. A message had been sent. No one challenged him and walked away after.

  Those who needed his protection would be safe.

  Lawson was one of them.

  He shook his head, grinding his teeth. The man knew damn well what would happen if he stepped into that ring. He’d made it clear he needed nothing from Noah except to be put in his damn place.

  The scar on his shoulder said otherwise. As they’d faced one another, Noah had looked Lawson over, pleased that he’d dressed for the ring, rather than like he’d put a business meeting on hold to knock someone the fuck out before getting back to his presentation. Arrogant bastard.

  But he’d been shot saving Ezran. A few inches over and Noah would be cursing at his damn grave, demanding to know why they’d lost everything. Why no sacrifice would ever be enough.

  They were both alive. Lawson was a proud man. He never would’ve stopped if Noah hadn’t forced him to. Doc would help him heal. Those who loved him would help him recover. Fill the place Noah once had in his life. Curtis would be more than enough to do so, but there was also Matt. And...Reed.

  Reed, who’d looked at Noah like he was a stranger.

  Another loss. But this was good. Reed had grown up.

  My job is done.

  Ezran might still need him, but...hell, Noah wasn’t even sure anymore. The kid was seventeen, angry at the world, and when he did open up, it was to his brother or Curtis. Noah’s mother was his one parental figure. Noah was...he was the man who’d been there when it mattered once.

  A warm hand slipped into his, Jamie gazing up at him as he laced their fingers together. Ahead of them on the stairs, members glanced over and cleared a path to the dungeon. He slowed when Jamie did. The last time his boy had been in here, he’d been punished.

  Not a light punishment either.

  He released Jamie’s hand and put his on the small of his back. “Trust me?”

  Chin jutting up, Jamie gave a firm nod and stepped over the threshold. He shuddered as he looked over to the stocks, where a heavyset sub was being tortured by his Dom with a vibrator that had him making so much noise with his desperate cries the buzzing was drowned out. Frowning as though the contrast in how the station had been used for him and how it was being used now confused him, Jamie tore his gaze from the stocks to a whipping scene that had gathered a small crowd.

  Shea had his sub of the night on the Saint Andrew’s Cross closest to the entrance, turned slightly so there was a wide clearance for the whip and nothing but the wall behind him. The bullwhip let out a loud CRACK as it came down, leaving a fine red line on the sub’s flesh and drawing out a loud moan. Some of the lines already painting the sub’s back crossed, but not a single one had drawn blood.

  Noah inhaled slowly. The last time a whip like that had been used on him, the results had been much different. Like the cane, whips could be used for pleasure. Or punishment.

  He’d only experienced the latter.

  Jamie’s experiences would be much better. But from the look on his face, they weren’t quite up to whips yet.

  A good Dom didn’t make assumptions though. He tucked Jamie close to his side, watching the whip come down a few more times before whispering in his ear. “Interested?”

  “Yeah...no thank you please, sir?” The tip of Jamie’s tongue did its cute little poke at the edge of his lip as uncertainty filled his eyes. “Would...would a real sub say that?”

  A real…

  Noah schooled his features. This doubt was new. Only two men might have the balls to put it in Jamie’s head and Lawson was too straightforward.

  Looks like I’ll be watching my back after all.

  But his countermove would have to wait. He could, however, see what limits his relationship would place on retaliation. He pressed his lips to Jamie’s throat. “Are you secretly a Dom? If so, your training would have to change a little, but I know someone who’d be perfect to practice on.”

  Jamie snickered. “Oh yeah, totally. I’m a badass Dom. Lead me to my first sub so I can beat on his ass.”

  With a soft chuckle, Noah slid his hand under Jamie’s shirt and grazed his fingers along the curve of his pelvis. “Wren would let you if I told him to.”

  Sucking in a sharp breath, Jamie turned his head and stared at him over his shoulder. “No way. You wouldn’t…” He shook his head when Noah arched his brow. “Seriously, the idea of Topping anyone makes me feel weird, but it would be sexy to watch you do it. With anyone. I know you and Wren...umm…”

  “That I fucked him in prison?” The casual response brought a flush to Jamie’s cheeks. Noah smiled. Apparently, he’d have no issues with watching his Dom exert his power over others.

  Perfect.

  Fingers to his neck, tracing the thick, solid gold circlet Noah had locked there weeks ago, Jamie gave him a serious look. “You should totally get him a nicer collar.”

  Sweet boy.

  “There weren’t better options at the time and I’ve no intention in claiming him long term. But if you’d like to play with him, that could be arranged.”

  Twisting his lips, Jamie considered him. “Is it up to me?”

  No.

  All the training Noah had received as a Dom rejected the idea, but Jamie’s inexperience in the lifestyle gave him pause. He wouldn’t use that against him. “The choice will be mine, but we will negotiate the boundaries of our relationship.”

  Which would be true no matter what. Not that Noah had explored this kind of commitment with anyone, but as long as Jamie remained at The Asylum, it was what he would give him. Which brought him to something else his little cat didn’t know.

  “Winning th
at fight means I can have Lawson once he’s recovered.”

  Jamie’s eyes widened. “Holy fuck, are you serious?”

  Noah’s lips quirked. “Aren’t I always?”

  “Not really.” Jamie laughed when Noah poked him in the ribs. “But when you do… Can I watch?”

  He’s perfect. Abso-fucking-lutely perfect.

  “If that’s what you want.” The words stuck in his throat as he recalled Lawson’s incredulous statement shortly before he’d issued the challenge. ‘Jamie wants…’ As if he didn’t make accommodations for Matt. Including having how many club members redirect him when he made the wrong move?

  Noah’s boy didn’t have anyone else looking out for him.

  He has me. That’s more than enough.

  It had to be.

  When Jamie didn’t answer, Noah nudged him toward the bondage frame at the back of the room, which had just been cleaned after the last scene there. He caught the DM’s, Blain’s, eye and the man came over, a broad smile on his lips.

  “About damn time you come up here for something other than business.” Blain clasped his hand and pulled him in, giving his back a firm, but friendly smack. “Wasn’t sure you would after that fight. Hear it was rough.”

  “You’ve fought Law.” Only twice, once that Noah had seen. Blood had glistened on Blain’s dark brown flesh and his gleaming white teeth as he’d grinned and tapped out. “You know how it is.”

  “Very true. I thought I had him at one point. Dislocated the fucker’s shoulder and he still flipped things on me.” Blain shook his head. “I teach my kids how to lose in my boxing class. You miss that lesson with him?”

  Noah’s lips slanted. “Looks like.”

  “Hmm. Strange, because you taught Curtis too. And it’s rare he doesn’t walk out of that ring.” Blain’s lips thinned. “And Reed—”

  “Please tell me you weren’t in the lineup for a piece of him while I was gone.” Fuck, would this ever end?

  How many were waiting for me to get out of the way?

  “Shit, Noah, I thought you knew me better than that.” Blain’s brow furrowed. “I was damn pleased when Curtis came to me for the boy’s collar. And sad for them both when I didn’t see it around his neck. I don’t need a list of conquests. The subs come to me.”