Chapter 6

Shattered streetlights left the rough blocks leading away from The Asylum dark, yet shone all around the steel security fence without a gap. Bright enough that Avery didn’t need to look hard to see the large group of pipe-wielding, stick-swinging thugs on the opposite side of the street. This strategic maneuver should be easier than risking discovery from The Asylum’s core members almost every day, only the Ravagers had been a little too eager when he’d dangled himself as a freak with a fuck-me-up fetish.

This is going to hurt.

Knowing the security cameras caught his every move, he slammed against the door he’d let shut and lock behind him. Fist balled, he scanned either side. No obvious escape. Gaze fixed with just the right amount of fear, fight in his stance, his role all too real.

Prey. Hunted.

“Hey, sicko.” The gang leader, a twenty-something razor-scarred dealer he knew only as Dice, preceded his ‘troops’ across the street, swinging his improvised weapon.

Hands up, Avery held his ground. “I don’t want any trouble.”

Everyone in The Asylum knew he could fight by now. Thankfully, he’d set up his backstory well enough tonight that no one would expect him to run, because he needed to be right here in front of these gates when he fell.

Without speaking again, Dice cocked his head and swung the rusty pipe. Avery ducked, sweeping Dice’s feet out from under him so the stubbled side of the man’s cheek hit the pavement. Looking for the next comer, he got busy, holding out as long as he could. Seven against one weren’t terrible odds, but the Ravagers smelled blood. Their shouts and jeers swirled around him. The ‘gonna fuck you ups’ and ‘take this up your pretty ass’ accompanying kicks and jabs. A bat cracked into his ribs, the first hit, but he’d made it a respectable minute or two, taking a few of the thugs down, before he saw legit stars.

A loud metal clang sounded as his shoulder hit the fence. He’d backed himself into the el where the pin pad and camera were housed. Sticky hotness dripped into his eyes and he swiped it away, staggering into the next guy and pushing him into his friends. Ineffectual. But at least he was still standing. Judging from the camera angle, no one would see him once he was down. The gates opened and two cars exited, speeding up rather than slowing when they saw the fight. He ignored them, rolling under the legs of the nearest gang member, and nearly made it to his feet before he tasted metal in his mouth and saw his blood spray the pavement in a black slop.

Nothing to pretend now.

He flung up his arm, saving himself a skull fracture when the pipe came down again. Impacting his elbow. Something snapped and he rolled, grunting. Yeah. Not his most brilliant idea, but the only option left open was even more desperate, and not likely to leave him or anyone else standing. That kind of collateral damage, he’d rather save for people more deserving. Like the animals who fell on him now with booted kicks. Pain didn’t so much register as become his world, but he absorbed it with his grunts and curled in on himself.

Two gunshots ripped through the air, scrambling the gang members. Those who remained were dragged off him. “Back off. I don’t mind spending the weekend digging a few holes.”

That voice…

He would have smiled if it didn’t hurt so fucking much. With his words more jagged lava rock than road gravel, Rhodey had a way of making Avery hot and cold all at once. Of course, it would be him. Avery laughed despite himself and began to shake.

Solid arms surrounded him, lifting him carefully. “You’re all right. I got you.” Rhodey’s gentle tone sharpened in an instant. “If you don’t start running, I won’t be aiming the next bullet at the sky. Your ugly mug would look much better with your brain leaking out, don’t ‘cha think?”

Running footfalls, shouts of ‘freak’—and other words Avery didn’t want to contemplate—faded down the street. They were moving now, the world a haven of muscled heat, long strides bringing him back behind the security gates and into The Asylum.

“Dallas, get Jared. Tell him I’m in my loft. He knows the passcode.” Rhodey’s tone was clipped, losing the relaxed yet deadly quality that usually seeped from even his most casual words. A thunk sounded, then the echo of the stairwell, silence not matching the movements of the big man.

Through the dizzy haze, Avery mentally logged his success as they passed through the second door. Like his own personal video game, he’d finally made it to the third level. To the place directly below the target’s location. Now, all he had to do was manage to stay here until he could actually move. Which, judging by the odd angle his arm hung at, might be a while.

“I can...walk.” Lying through his teeth, he hoped Rhodey didn’t take him up on the offer, because he’d fall right back down the stairs and probably break his neck.

Rhodey let out an irritated sound. “Shut up.”

Teeth chattering, Avery obeyed because he didn’t have a choice. Let the man think he’d intimidated him into silence. That was just fine.

Tapping in a code, Rhodey opened another door. The one to his own loft. He moved with sure steps, laying Avery on a soft surface. Covered him with a heavy blanket. Then brushed his hair back from where it stuck to the blood on his forehead. “Damn it, boy. You’re a fucking mess. Can you look at me?”

Nausea roared over Avery when he turned his head. Clenching his jaw, he made himself open his eyes. His lashes stuck together as he blinked at the sting. Larger than life, Rhodey bent over him, his hard features nearly eroded to softness with concern.

Unfamiliar guilt stabbed Avery’s middle and he shuddered violently, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry.” The words were out before he could stop them.

“Don’t be. This isn’t your fault.” Rhodey shook his head. “Fucking gang. If half weren’t damn kids, I’d get rid of the lot of them.” He moved away from the bed. Opened something with a click, then returned to press a soft cloth against Avery’s temple. “You still cold?”

Cold and hot. Both.

He nodded because it was easier. “I’m b-bleeding on your s-s-something.”

That brought a chuckle from the man. “My bed. And I’ve done it a few times myself, so don’t worry about it. It’ll clean easy enough. I’d put you on the floor, but that wouldn’t be quite as comfortable. And Jared would be grumpy if he tripped over you on his way in.”

Jared. Doc. The man with the cold eyes and the steady suture hand.

Avery nodded. “Thanks. I should’ve looked before. I usually do.”

“I bet, considering you live so close to them all.” Rhodey’s lips thinned. “You run over someone’s bike or are they just not that neighborly?”

Unexpected laughter sprayed more blood down Avery’s chin. “Asked them to turn d-down their stereo.”

“Ah.” Rhodey wiped another cloth over his lips. “Totally deserved then.”

He tried to smile and winced, but his mouth didn’t notice because it just kept running, his thoughts making it off his tongue before he could stop them. “N-not the way I envisioned ending-g up in your bed.”

Rhodey clucked his tongue. “Probably would’ve been safer if you hadn’t pictured it at all, but I guess it’s better you’re bleeding before I get you here than after. Just make sure to tell all the other subs I’m hung and fuck like a beast. They’ll be jealous and afraid. Win-win.”

Laugh ending on a groan, Avery shut his eyes again. “World’s first MMA mattress. Now every—” He took a breath, not wanting to let go of this moment, of this connection with the man. Rare. Precious because there were so few like it. With anyone at all. “Everyone will know where you take your fights.”

“Naw.” Rhodey moved the cloth to another spot on Avery’s face, keeping it there with a bit of pressure. “Because you’re going to make it out of here without a body bag. If people think this is how my fights end, it’ll ruin my reputation. You’re still breathing.”

He smiled this time, drifting, warmth hitting him from Rhodey’s skin. His arm and hand close. Maybe his hip. “Okay.”

A knock sounded, far away. Avery tried to sit up, heart hammering.

“Don’t move.” Rhodey pressed down on his shoulder. His voice raised. “Why the fuck are you knocking? Get in here!”

Footsteps, almost as silent as Rhodey’s, entered the room. “I didn’t—” Doc cut himself off as his gaze landed on Avery. “Did he piss you off, or was this some after-hours training?”

“I can’t take credit for this. Unfortunate, he’s pretty all bloody, isn’t he?” Rhodey shifted away from the bed. “The gang got to him. I didn’t shoot anyone. Are you proud of me?”

“No.” Doc’s tone was dry as he set down his bag. “You could use some target practice.”

Letting out a Hmph, Rhodey folded his arms over his chest. “There’s no pleasing you.” He nodded to Avery. “He’s small, but pretty tough. Probably avoided the worst of the damage just being fast, but they clocked him upside the head with a pipe. Not sure what else.”

Doc lifted Avery’s shirt, exposing flesh that contracted with goosebumps. He began shaking again, missing Rhodey’s heat. This man’s hands were cold. Not like—

“Last time you brought me one of your boys like this, you’d been using the blood in place of lube. Or had that been a joke?” Unbuttoning the waistband of Avery’s jean’s, Doc drew them off. Heat ran down Avery’s leg in a rush and the man swore. “Nail puncture. Get me a wad of gauze and hold it while I get something to clean it with.”

Moving quickly, Rhodey came to his other side, sitting on the bed and compressing the wound firmly. “Of course, I was joking. That one was on loan, I just wanted to make sure I returned to sender with some...consideration. He worked for an asshole, but he didn’t deserve to die.”