Hard Justice: The Asylum Fight Club Book 3

by Bianca Sommerland

  Gum snapping, Curtis strode in, clapping Reed on the shoulder as he cast Jamie a thoughtful look. “It’s up to Doc what you do on Christmas. You’ll follow his orders.” He hoisted some of the bags. “Let’s get going before he busts my ass for getting you back late.”

  Jamie flushed, but didn’t do more than pick up the packages.

  On the way to Curtis’s car, Reed nudged Jamie with his elbow, then whispered, “Even Doc won’t turn Tracey down. Just wait.”

  Returning his nudge, Jamie threw Reed a little grin. “Thanks for today. It was awesome.”

  “Thanks for asking me to come with. I had a blast.” Reed dropped his bags into the trunk when Curtis opened it. “Next time, we’ll do something with less risk of mob attacks.”

  “Mob attacks? Was the gang at the mall?” Brow lowered, Curtis scanned Reed from head to toe, obviously looking for damage. “What were you doing and why didn’t you call me?”

  Reed winced and ducked his head. “Okay, wasn’t actually an attack. Jamie totally saw it coming. We got away from the mall before the cameras and everything showed up. If it was the gang I definitely would’ve called. Sorry, was still freaky to see how crazy people can get.”

  Pulling Reed closer, Curtis studied Jamie. “I never even heard of you before you showed up. Hard to believe you’re causing the place to go more mental than usual, but…” He shrugged. “I guess I don’t know many pubescent girls. You seem much more their type than—”

  Jamie’s cheeks went red as he stepped back from the trunk. “I guess I’d have to trust your judgment, sir.” He looked to Reed. “You seem to have good taste in subs.”

  Lips slanted, Reed bumped his hip into Jamie’s. “Doesn’t he though? Oh, I had a thought. You ever tried audiobooks? I got a few you can borrow. Listening to books while doing other stuff is a lot more fun than sitting there staring at all those black and white pages.”

  “Sounds awesome. I always meant to, but now I might actually have time.” Moving toward the car door, Jamie gave him a grateful smile over the roof. “Thanks, Reed. For everything.”

  Smiling back, Reed touched two fingers to his temple in a little salute. Got in the car, relaxing into his seat as he decided on the first book he’d have Jamie listen to. One Doc had suggested to him. He glanced up at Curtis as he came to clip his seatbelt, a ritual that had so much tenderness to it Reed never cared much what anyone might think if they saw. “Curtis, you ever read The Manchurian Candidate?”

  Curtis’s fingers stilled over the clip. “Yes.”

  Reed nodded, not really surprised. He wet his bottom lip with his tongue, doing his best to keep his tone light. “I’m gonna lend it to Jamie. I think he’ll...like it.”

  Leaning in, Curtis brushed his lips close to Reed’s ear, his voice a low warning. “Don’t meddle in things you don’t understand, boy.”

  “Yes, sir.” Reed lowered his gaze, not sure what to make of Curtis’s reaction. He wouldn’t argue with him, that wouldn’t do any of them any good. And his feelings for Jamie were pretty obvious.

  He was wrong though. About a lot of things. Noah might have ‘trained’ Curtis, but he’d helped raise Reed for long enough to teach him to make the right choices for himself. What Curtis might consider meddling was simply giving Jamie a fighting chance in this fucked up world he’d become a part of. Which Curtis might not want him to do either.

  But it was too late.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The cramping rolled over Jamie in waves, nausea adding itself to the layers of determination and, oddly, erotic humiliation as Doc removed the special shower nozzle from his ass. The act wasn’t new, not for him and Doc, but using it as a punishment was fucked up in ways Jamie’s brain struggled to understand, even as his muscles clenched to keep control. Which, he supposed, was the point. Control. Him learning to accept it from others, to exercise it over his mind, and his body.

  The man deserved points for creativity.

  And a fucking evil mind.

  “Ten minutes for flagrant disobedience.” Doc leaned down, his voice a dark whisper. “Clean up, dress, downstairs after.”

  He waited until the sounds of Doc moving about the loft receded, followed by running water in the kitchen, fridge door opening then closing, before he leaned his shoulder against the stall wall. Tiny tiles digging into his knees, he breathed in and out, focusing on how the seconds strung together instead of on all the seconds he had yet to endure.

  There was no one to blame but himself. He’d made the choice to drink the top-shelf bourbon with Reed at lunch, after being told alcohol—especially that alcohol—was off-limits during his training. Of course, he hadn’t expected Reed to serve him as they chatted about the Christmas decorations and how the holly boughs made the twinkling lights strung along the bar’s wooden beams pure magic. He’d started sipping without thinking. Doc walking into the bar after a twelve-hour surgery shift to see the glass in his hand had been shitty timing.

  He laughed at the unintended pun and winced, leaning over with his hand on the wall.

  God, Noah, if you could see me now.

  What would his Dom think if he knew all the hoops Doc had made him jump through over the past week? Life with Noah seemed like nothing more than a dream. A bubble of happiness that had briefly floated his way.

  Studying his hand against the tiles, he took in the chipped polish, the red skin from scrubbing every inch of The Asylum in preparation for tonight’s Christmas Eve festivities, and next week’s New Year’s Eve celebration. Jared still hadn’t told him if he’d be allowed to go to Tracey’s for Christmas dinner. Hopefully, today’s fuckup hadn’t blown that chance out of the water, but so far even Jared didn’t punish him twice for stuff.

  So...maybe?

  The softly ticking wind up timer on the bathroom counter dinged, and he scrambled to his feet, resisting the urge to close the bathroom door as he took care of the rest of his punishment, then turned on the regular shower and set about getting ready for the evening.

  Dressed in the black slacks and white shirt Doc had laid out for him, he wished for his nail polish and gloss, but neither were permitted. No jewelry. Nothing he could call his own. Everything under the control and discretion of his Dom.

  In the bedroom, he slipped on his shoes, glad that since he was dressed he wouldn’t be required to crawl. He looked up as the door opened, expecting Doc, and smiling as he straightened when Wren walked in. “Hey. What are you doing here? I thought you finished cleaning this morning.”

  “I did.” Wren smoothed his hands over his dark green sweater vest, his tone quiet. “I’m here to get you for the party. We have to be really good, but I promised Doc he didn’t have to worry. So he put me in charge of you which may or may not have been a good idea. Are you cold?”

  I’ve been cold for days.

  He grinned and popped his hip out, snapping his fingers. “With this hot-blooded bod?”

  That got a little laugh out of Wren before he shook his head, grabbing Jamie’s wrist. “They don’t have the heat on very high and it’s all Christmassy downstairs. Come on and follow my instructions very carefully. You’re going to ask Jared for permission to put on a sweater. Kneel, wait for him to address you. Then say exactly these words ‘If it pleases you, sir, may I wear an appropriate Christmas sweater of your choice for the night?’”

  “Is he still up here?” Jamie leaned to the side, trying to get a glimpse into the living room and the kitchen beyond. “I wanted to give you your Christmas present tonight since I know you don’t like going to stuff at Tracey’s. I don’t know if I’m going, but if I do then I don’t want to miss out on giving you your present.”

  “Shh.” Wren stopped him just outside of the kitchen. “Yes, he’s here. You can give it to me after. Do you remember what I said?”

  “Yeah. Yes.” Poking his tongue at the corner of his mouth, he recalled a few more of Doc’s rules. No slang or lazy words. “I’m good at memorizing lines.”

  A bracing sm
ile on his lips, Wren reached out to squeeze his shoulder, then nudged him toward the kitchen. “You’ve got this. And remember, eyes down and be really, really quiet.”

  Nodding, he wiped his hands on his pants, took a deep breath, and stepped into the kitchen where Doc sprinkled nutmeg into a large pitcher of eggnog. Checking the impulse to clear his throat, he knelt, gracefully, like he’d been practicing. Then lowered his gaze and waited.

  Without turning, Doc addressed him. “Yes?”

  He squeezed his eyes shut. “If it pleases you, sir, may I wear an appropriate Christmas sweater of your choosing for the night?”

  “No.”

  His heart sank. He started to stand.

  “But you may wear one of your own choosing.”

  Stilling, he blinked. The choice, that simple choice, flooded his brain like an ocean of water he nearly drowned in. Did he even know how to make those kinds of decisions anymore?

  “Go to Noah’s loft with Wren, fix your nails. Use your face things.” Doc waved his hand vaguely, a shadow in Jamie’s peripheral vision. “Check in with me every hour. Fail to do so and you’ll go upstairs immediately. You’re released until one.”

  Jamie stood. “Thank you, sir.”

  Doc harrumphed.

  Turning, a huge grin on his face, Jamie gave Wren two thumbs up as he walked into the living room.

  “Wren?” Doc called, coming to stand in the doorway.

  Shoulders squared, Wren stood a bit straighter as he clasped his hand to his wrist behind his back, then lowered his gaze. “Yes, sir?”

  Giving Wren a friendly once-over, Doc nodded his approval. “You’re a good boy. You may spend time with Jamie for an hour a day as long as he behaves.”

  The dimple in Wren’s cheek made an appearance as he gave a little nod. “Thank you, sir. I’d like that very much.”

  After tousling Wren’s hair, Jared returned to the kitchen. Eyes wide-as-fuck, Jamie looked at Wren and mouthed “What the actual…?”

  Wren shook his head, motioning Jamie to the door. He didn’t speak again until they were in Noah’s loft. Then he inhaled roughly. “You did awesome. I was really hoping you would. See, he’s not so bad.”

  “Thank you.” Breathing in deep, Jamie tested the air for Noah’s scent, but had to go all the way to the bedroom threshold before he caught it. Warm leather. Spice. A little bit of sun-warmed hay. His entire body relaxed as he began stripping off his clothes before he stepped into the room. “Want...I mean, do you want to come in while I get ready?”

  “Sure.” Wren stepped into the room, chewing on his bottom lip as he looked around. He went to the leather reading chair in the corner of the room, perching on the very edge. His throat worked. “It doesn’t seem as...big anymore. I don’t know why.”

  Coming out of the bathroom with a cotton swab soaked in polish remover, Jamie scrubbed at his nails, regretting that the sharp chemical scent obliterated Noah’s warmer one. He looked around, blinking back the prickle at the corner of his eyes. “You’d think it’d seem larger without him in it.”

  But it really didn’t.

  “I think...like him being here, his presence made everything his. Now it’s...just a room.” Wren rubbed his thighs. “In prison the cell was kinda like that. It didn’t feel as closed in with him. When he went to make phone calls or stuff it was scary. Like the walls were nearer, the door wasn’t as solid. I’d either get crushed or someone would get to me.”

  Jamie didn’t much think about Noah having been in prison. Sometimes it seemed like there hadn’t been a him before Noah. And he preferred to think there hadn’t been a Noah before him. Except there had. And there’d been a Wren and Noah.

  Together.

  “I’m glad he was there for you. I…” Tossing the cotton ball in the toilet, Jamie flushed and returned to the bedroom with his hair gel. “I can’t imagine him before. There. Or...before.”

  Or life without him.

  A life he lived every day, his panic that Noah might never return held at bay only by Jared’s tight hold on his every waking moment.

  Wren lifted his shoulders, looking down at his socked feet. “I don’t know much about him before prison. Little things would come up. Like he’d talk about Ezran getting good grades, or his mom’s business trips. How sick she was, but that she was getting stronger. Mostly it was about surviving. Who not to look at or stand near in the cafeteria. Books we were reading. It was like being unplugged from the real world—even though I guess I was never really part of it.” He cocked his head. “When I was still in school kids used to say I’d be a weird hermit living in the woods. I’ve never been to the woods, but they weren’t completely wrong.”

  Jamie chuckled despite the moment, a little self-conscious trill running up his spine. “Then we’re all hermits here, I guess. In our own woods full of big bad wolves. I haven’t checked my voicemail since I got here.” He pictured the tiny cell and Noah’s broad shoulders, how hemmed in he must have felt—a lion in a cage—and had to leave the room to rinse his hands, giving himself a minute to banish the tears that came too easily. Roughly clearing his throat, he called to Wren, “What does he like to read?”

  “All kinds of stuff. I don’t think there’s anything he doesn’t like to read.” The edges of Wren’s lips tipped up as Jamie came from the bathroom fisting his gloss and liner. “I think Lawson and Curtis must’ve spent the entire time he was in prison collecting books, for all the ones they filled the place up with. Curtis had to build more shelves when Tracey brought boxes from her place. And Reed was looking all over for mystery books—some really old ones. I think he tried reading them, but he’s used to books with pictures—not that that’s a bad thing, some of those mangas are interesting, but he gets bored easily. Noah used to talk about that too.”

  Smiling at Wren in the mirror over the dresser, Jamie applied the black liner thickly, like he did for stage, not street. “I love the pictures in Reed’s comic books, but the text is all over the page so it makes things worse. I can see Noah frowning over the pages, being all serious about trying to understand the story for Reed.” He turned, leaning against the dresser. “Everyone here loves him so much, but I kinda didn’t understand that until he...went away. I thought Curtis hated him a little. But maybe…” Looking up, he shook his head. “Did I show you what I got Noah for Christmas?”

  Another car came into the lot, bringing his attention to the window. Like every one before as he hoped against hope Noah would climb out. At night, he dreamed about running down all the stairs, flying into his arms. Not that he would, because he’d wait respectfully to be noticed, like Jared had taught him, but the dreams were nice anyway.

  Shaking his head, a sad smile on his lips, Wren glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Fifteen minutes until you have to check in with Jared. It sucks that neither of us have a phone, you could set an alert. But you didn’t show me—I think you went straight to Jared’s after shopping. Was shopping fun? I always did all my shopping online. My aunt used to complain about the crowds in the malls and she didn’t want me to go because she said kids were annoying while shopping and she wouldn’t ‘contribute’ to that. Were there a lot of kids? Are they really that bad?”

  He wrinkled his nose, tugging on his tightest pair of jeans, adjusting his junk. “I really didn’t notice. I haven’t been in a mall since I was a kid. But I remember it being kind of fascinatingly brutal even then. Like all arms and legs and bags, everyone taller than me—” He laughed, putting in his diamond studs. “Which they still are. But we can go sometime and maybe I won’t get mobbed and we can have fun finding out for ourselves.”

  “Maybe…” Wren worried his bottom lip with his teeth. He stood and went to the window. “We’d have to make sure you didn’t get hurt. All those people...shouldn’t you have a bunch of bodyguards when you go out? Or maybe a bunch of Doms. They could just glare at people and make them go away.”

  Slipping on his shoes, Jamie giggled. “Du— I mean, Wren, can you imagine N
oah’s face? Like, in a mall in the first place, and then screaming teenagers? He’d growl or something and they’d all start shrieking in a different way.” He motioned Wren toward the door. “Have you ever heard a hundred kids screaming? It’s like a sonic eardrum rupture.”

  Wren gave him a level look. “You are not making this sound like an experience I want to have. I only like screaming when there’s jump scares and blood and creepy music.”

  “Yes!” Perfect! Jamie snapped his fingers and ran out of the loft to Jared’s, scooping up the velvet box and the larger one that was Wren’s. He skittered back out into the hall. “Time check?”

  “Five minutes.” Wren came out to meet him, shaking his finger. “Good subs don’t do that sliding around and rushing thing. Do not take Reed’s example on that. He’s a strange exception and I think Curtis would need to keep him on a leash to stop him.”

  Jamie’s skin heated, the back of his neck prickling. “Sorry. I mean, I’m sorry. Do you want to go downstairs now?”

  Shaking his head, Wren bit his bottom lip. “No, we should check if Jared’s still here just in case, because if we go down and he’s not there—wait, you were just in there. I’m sorry, I’m not good at being in charge of people. Is that Noah’s gift?”

  “Yes.” Jamie looked at the gifts in his hands, then behind him at Jared’s door. “I didn’t see him, or at least he didn’t appear out of nowhere and smack me, so I think he’s downstairs. I figured I’ll give you yours down there and carry Noah’s in case Rhodey shows up and can bring it to him.”

  “Oh… Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Wren’s cheeks flushed. “I didn’t have a way to get you anything and I’m not good at making stuff. I’m sorry.”

  Walking down the stairs, Jamie slung his arm over Wren’s shoulders. “No worries. I’ve never done this. My assistant bought her own present and everyone else’s. You’re part of launching my very first Christmas. Like a real Christmas.” Stepping into the bar, he let the noise and heat hit him, soaking it into his skin. “The kind where I think about stuff before I buy it. And risk death by teenage girls...and a few boys.”