by Carol Lynne
Dray turned the television off when he heard a knock. He dropped the remote onto the king-size bed and moved to answer the door. Lucky, fresh from a shower, stood smiling at him. “Hey,” Dray greeted, stepping back to let Lucky inside.
“Brick’s asleep, so I thought I’d run downstairs to the bar for a drink. Wanna join me?” Lucky asked.
“Sure, just let me grab my wallet.” Dray waited for Lucky to prop open the door with his shoulder before walking away to grab his money and room card. Lucky had offered to let Dray stay in their room, but no way in hell could he trust himself to share a queen-size bed with Lucky. He’d thanked Lucky but had politely refused the offer. “All set.”
Lucky led the way into the hall and waited for Dray to join him before heading toward the elevator. “So what made you decide to make the trip?”
Dray wasn’t sure he could answer the question because truth be told, he wasn’t sure he knew. He decided to go with Brick’s illness as his excuse. “Just wanted to watch Brick in action once more before things got too bad.”
Lucky pushed the button before glancing at Dray. “Brick’s had better nights. Sorry you had to see what you did.”
“Don’t be sorry. Despite everything, I saw the same fire in Brick’s eyes as I did back when I was fighting.” The elevator doors opened, and Dray entered. He felt oddly nervous when Lucky joined him in the enclosed space. “Good punch there at the end though, but I saw it coming. If The Hammer hadn’t been so fucking sure of himself, he’d have seen it, too.”
“Getting Brick out of there was the only thing I cared about,” Lucky replied.
The doors opened and they stepped out into the lobby. Other than a few people standing in line to check in, there didn’t seem to be any action. “Looks dead,” Dray said.
“Thank God.” Lucky took off toward the small bar. “I’ve had enough of people and their big fucking mouths for one day.”
Dray followed, trying in vain to keep his gaze off Lucky’s ass. Damn. He felt his cock begin to harden and quickly averted his eyes, concentrating instead on the dark head of drying mahogany-colored hair in front of him.
Lucky walked to the back of the bar and slid into a booth. “This okay?”
“Yeah.” Dray sat across from Lucky. He rested his hands on the table, trying like a motherfucker to figure out what to say next. Gone was the ease of their shared telephone conversations. He searched for something to say. Oh. Fuck yeah. “I brought my gun and ink, so if you want that tat while I’m here…”
Lucky looked like he was about to say something but turned his attention to the server who had stepped up beside him. “Shot of tequila and a Corona, both with lime,” he ordered.
Dray nodded. “Same for me.”
“Right up,” the female server said with a smile. She lingered for just a moment, and Dray got the distinct impression she knew who Lucky was but was too shy to say so. She eventually turned and walked off without another word.
“I think she likes you,” Dray commented. He didn’t blame the woman. Despite the bruise on his jaw and small bandaged cut, Lucky was damn hot. His eyes were the color of expensive cognac and rimmed with the longest red lashes Dray had ever seen.
Lucky glanced toward the bar before shrugging. “Didn’t notice.” He spun his cardboard coaster several times before stilling it. “Brick’s not going to last long, is he?”
Dray exhaled a long ragged breath. “No, I don’t think so. Although, my uncle got a lot worse before he finally passed.” He fisted his hands, knowing what would come. “Brick’ll need oxygen before long. Then we’ll probably need to call in hospice.”
“I’ll take care of him,” Lucky declared.
“And I’ll help you, but he’ll need someone to come in and help him manage the pain.” Dray didn’t add that hospice would also be there to help Lucky deal with the end. Nor did he mention how horrible the end would be, because he knew from experience that in order for Brick to handle the pain, he’d have to be so heavily drugged he probably wouldn’t be able to do anything but sleep. Lucky would spend days, possibly weeks, watching as Brick wasted away.
The waitress returned and set the drinks on the table. “Would you like to pay now or run a tab?”
Lucky upended the shot glass and downed the tequila before setting it empty on her tray. “A tab is fine.” He gestured to the glass. “And four more of those.”
With a surprised expression, she nodded. “Okay.”
Once they were alone again, Lucky took a swig of his beer. “How do we know when to do that?”
Dray drank his shot without use of the lime or salt before answering. “Do you know if he’s still seeing a doctor?”
Lucky shook his head. “I don’t know anything really. It’s a wonder I got what little I did out of him.”
Dray waited for their server to set down the shots and leave before saying anything. “We can call them anytime, but I think it would be a good idea to get him back to the doctor first. He’ll need to fill out an advanced healthcare directive while he’s still able.”
“What’s that?” Lucky asked.
“Legal piece of paper that’ll see that his wishes are carried out once he’s unable to make decisions for himself.” Dray reached for another shot and drank it before continuing. “It won’t be pleasant, but since he’s refused treatment, it’s necessary.”
“I don’t think Brick’ll like a stranger in his house all the time.” Lucky’s eyes were red, whether from the tequila or the subject matter, Dray didn’t know.
“Hospice will work with us. If we only want them to come for a few hours at a time, that’s what they’ll do. It all depends on us and how much we’re able to do for him once it gets bad.”
“I’d do anything,” Lucky was quick to say.
Dray finally gave into his desire and reached across the table to squeeze Lucky’s hand. He stared at their hands when Lucky turned his over and threaded their fingers together. He’d never really noticed the difference in their skin color, but his own light brown skin appeared even darker against Lucky’s creamy-white. He opened his mouth to point it out, but the waitress caught his attention. She was cleaning the table across from them, but her attention appeared to be on their clasped hands. Shit.
Dray tensed. If his earlier suspicion was right, the woman knew who Lucky was. Not good. He thought fast. “I know Brick’s been like a father to you, and I’ll help you deal with the cancer any way I can.”
Dray gave Lucky’s hand one last squeeze before withdrawing his touch. Lucky’s expression changed, and it was obvious Dray had hurt his feelings. He wanted to tell Lucky the truth, that holding hands would inevitably lead to gossip. Worse, he’d enjoyed Lucky’s warmth too much and could easily imagine Lucky’s hand on his cock. No. He wouldn’t let it happen. No fucking way would he be Lucky’s Vince. He hadn’t lied to Lucky. As long as he was needed to help care for Brick, he’d be at Lucky’s side, but he wouldn’t stick around. Lucky deserved his dream, and Dray would do everything he could to protect it.
“I know you will,” Lucky mumbled.
Upending the last shot glass, Dray welcomed the burn of the alcohol. He’d hurt Lucky by pulling away, that much was more than obvious. So be it. I’ll be the asshole.
Chapter Four
“You want to go by the gym or should I take you home?” Lucky asked, as they neared their neighborhood. The drive from Indianapolis with Brick beside him and Dray following in his pickup, had been pure torture. He still didn’t understand what had happened the previous night in the bar. When Dray had held his hand, Lucky had felt the heat between them, but it had been more than that. For possibly the first time in his life, he hadn’t felt alone, and the goddamn little boy inside him had wanted to pump his fist in the air. Unfortunately, the moment of fullness hadn’t lasted and all too soon, Dray had withdrawn.
“Brick Yard,” Brick replied.
It took a moment for the answer to filter through the shit in his brain but it sorted in time f
or him to take a left to the gym. He pulled into the parking lot but left the engine running. “I’m going to head home, but I’ll be back in time for this afternoon’s training.”
Brick climbed out of the rented SUV but didn’t shut the door immediately.
Lucky stared at the older man. “What?”
Brick shook his head. “Be careful.”
“Of what?” Lucky asked although he had an idea.
“Don’t let your dick ruin everything you’ve worked for,” Brick said, before closing the door.
Dray parked beside Lucky and held up his hands before leaning across the seat to roll down the passenger window. “You staying?”
Lucky shook his head. “I’ve got to get the rental back.” They’d already decided Dray would sleep on Brick’s foldout sofa while he was in town, so he chanced a request. “Would you mind following me?”
Wrists resting over the steering wheel, Dray’s gaze went to the building. “You think Brick’ll be okay without one of us here?”
“Flint’s here, and school’s almost out for Jax.” Lucky nodded. “He’ll be fine until we get back.”
“Fuck. I can’t believe Flint’s still here.” Dray chuckled, his smile wide.
Lucky bit his bottom lip. It was the first time in years he’d seen Dray’s smile and it was breathtaking. “He’s here. Flint likes working with the younger fighters.”
Since Flint’s fighting career had never really taken off, he’d decided to cut a deal with Brick to use the gym for private clients. Brick being Brick had agreed to let Flint do whatever he needed to do to make a living at a sport he loved.
“It’ll be nice to see him again.” Dray put his truck in reverse. “I’ll follow you.”
Lucky nodded once before pulling out of the parking lot. He pictured Dray sleeping two floors above him and wondered how the hell he was going to keep himself in check. For eight years, he’d jacked off to memories of Dray’s deep voice as Dray’d fucked Vince in the shower. Except in Lucky’s fantasy, he was the one bending over for Dray’s cock. “Shit!”
Two miles from the gym, Lucky parked in front of the rental place. He jumped out and ran inside to drop off the keys before climbing in Dray’s truck. “All set.”
“Where to?” Dray asked.
“Home,” Lucky answered. “I’m starving, and I need to do a load of laundry.”
Dray exited the parking lot. He cleared his throat and adjusted himself in the seat. “I’ve done nothing but think since I left you at Brick’s door last night.” He stopped at a red light and glanced at Lucky. “It’s obvious we’re into each other, so I won’t pretend otherwise, but you need to know, I’m not going to act on that attraction.”
Lucky held Dray’s gaze until Dray broke eye contact when the light turned green. “Why?” Lucky finally asked. He rubbed at the tightness in his chest.
“Because once it starts, we won’t stop until someone finds out and it ruins your career,” Dray stated in a matter-of-fact tone. “I won’t do that to you, even if you beg me.”
* * * *
After dropping off his luggage at Brick’s, Dray bypassed Lucky’s apartment and drove to the gym. He’d have normally just walked, but he wanted his truck in case Brick wasn’t up to walking home at the end of the day.
Dray spent the first hour in the gym, talking to Flint, meeting Jax and several of the other members before finally joining Brick in the office. He shut the door behind him and dropped to the couch. Grinning, he ran his palm over the cracked avocado green vinyl. “I can’t believe you still have this.”
“Why wouldn’t I? It’s still good and it wipes down easy. I can’t tell you how many sweaty asses have been on that damn thing,” Brick grumbled.
Dray laughed. Despite the years he’d been gone, it was nice to know Brick’s sunny disposition hadn’t changed. “I’ll remember that the next time I come in after a workout without putting my pants on.”
A coughing spell halted Brick’s retort. Dray tensed for several moments before he leaned back and waited. He wanted to jump up and do something, but he knew that would only anger Brick. Not only that, but the old man had already hid his condition once, and Dray knew if he or Lucky started to hover, Brick would shut them out again.
Brick reached down and came back with a stained towel as Dray averted his gaze. “Sorry,” Brick mumbled after closing the drawer.
“Are you in pain?” Dray asked, needing to know.
Brick scratched his unshaven jaw. “I have pills.”
“When do you go back to the doctor?” Dray hated to push Brick with questions, but he didn’t think Lucky would be able to ask them.
“I don’t. I’m done.”
Dray glared at Brick. As much as he loved the old man, the lies had to stop. “I know you don’t want to think or talk about this shit, but it’s happening.” He’d kept his mouth shut while Lucky was around, but now that he was alone with Brick, he needed the truth. “How much weight have you lost? Fifteen pounds? More?”
Brick rested his forearms on the desk. “Why’re you doing this? I’m dying, and I know it, so I don’t need you to tell me I look like shit.” He shook his head before opening the top drawer of his desk. He pulled out a plain manila folder and held it out. “I need you and Lucky to read over these and sign them. They have to be notarized, but you can get that done at the bank.”
Dray retrieved the folder but couldn’t bring himself to open it. “Is this your power-of-attorney paperwork?”
“Yeah, the Advanced Health Care Directive and a copy of my will,” Brick replied.
Dray had known it was coming, but holding the proof, he just stared at the folder. He’d given the situation a lot of thought during the hours of driving. “I don’t want Lucky’s name on the directive.”
“Why the hell not?”
Dray glanced at Brick. “Lucky doesn’t need that shit weighing on him.” Truthfully, he didn’t think Lucky was strong enough to deal with what was coming, but he wouldn’t verbalize it. “He needs to concentrate on the upcoming tournament he’s registered for. He tell you about that?”
Brick nodded. “He needs the money. If he wins, he can make more in two weeks than he makes in a year on the circuit.”
According to Lucky, he was fighting in the tournament for Brick’s benefit. Dray couldn’t help wondering who Lucky was lying to. “Is money a problem for him?”
If that was the case, Dray had some extra cash squirreled away. He’d much rather give it to Lucky than to have Lucky enter the blood bath Ray Bruno was putting together. Despite Lucky’s indifference to the fans, he was a damn good fighter and could probably win, but Dray never understood why skilled fighters entered the underground tournaments. Sure, there was money to be made, but the fights were often referred to as human cockfights.
“Lucky’s mom’s up for parole. He knows he’s going to have to set her up in a place.” Brick shrugged. “Alana’s a fucking mess, always has been, but no matter how many times Lucky tries to tell himself he’s over her, he always busts his ass to help when she asks for it.”
“What’d she go in for?” Dray asked.
“It’s her second time in. Both for distribution.”
Dray wondered how Lucky would be able to deal with the tournament, Brick’s failing health and his junkie mother. Dray stood and tossed the folder back on Brick’s desk. “Lucky’s got enough shit to deal with. Take his name off the power-of-attorney, and I’ll sign it and get it notarized.”
* * * *
After an easy workout and shower, Lucky grabbed his gym bag. He stopped at the laundry room to find Jax doing homework. “Hey.”
Jax looked up and smiled. “I got my test back.” He dug around in his backpack before pulling out a sheet of paper. “Take that!” he cried, slamming the test on the table.
Lucky grinned at the B plus written in red. “Good job.” He eyed Jax for several moments before gesturing with a wave of his hand. “Let’s go. I think you deserve dinner at Mac’s.”
Lucky hadn’t forgotten what he’d promised the kid in exchange for a good grade. “I believe the deal for showing you how to execute an uppercut was an A,” he reminded Jax.
“Seriously?” Jax whined. “I got a fucking B plus, man.”
“Yeah, and that’s why I’m taking you to Mac’s.” Lucky pointed to the door. “Let’s go.” He grinned to himself, knowing he’d end up showing Jax a few moves, but first the kid needed to eat.
Jax caught up to Lucky halfway between The Brick Yard and Mac’s. “I read that The Hammer suffered three broken ribs and a partially collapsed lung.”
Lucky nodded. Brick had told him earlier on their way home from Indianapolis, but it wasn’t something Lucky could dwell on. Every fighter knew what was at stake when they stepped into the cage. He opened the door to Mac’s and waited for Jax to go inside before following.
“You almost lost that fight last night, boy,” Mac yelled from the window cut into the wall between the counter and the kitchen.
Lucky ignored Mac and slid into his usual booth. “Order whatever you want,” he told Jax.
“Anything?” Jax’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline.
“You earned it.” Lucky sat sideways in the booth with his back against the wall. He needed to talk to Jax about Brick, but he wasn’t sure how. “The usual,” he told Trish when she came to the table.
“I’ll have the rib-eye, medium, with a double order of fries and a chocolate milkshake,” Jax ordered.
“He’ll have the rib-eye with one order of fries and a side of green beans,” Lucky amended. “But he can have the milkshake.”
“Sure thing,” Trish said before yelling their order across the diner to Mac.
“I like fries,” Jax argued.
“Yeah, and you’re gettin’ fries, but you’re also eating a vegetable.” Lucky’s diet consisted primarily of protein and vegetables. If Jax was serious about whipping his body into shape, he’d need to change his eating habits, but after finding out why Jax needed to learn to fight, he wasn’t sure the kid wanted to make a career of it. Lucky decided to show Jax how to land an impressive uppercut, knowing a showdown between Jax and his father was inevitable.