Chapter 8

The lack of so much as a speck of dust on a single piece of furniture never bothered Lawson before, but every time he entered a room in his and Matt’s loft he...hoped to find some. Or any sign that time had passed. But there was nothing. He could be coming home from an afternoon business meeting, rather than months of confinement.

Which was good. Preferable. Those he loved had known he wouldn’t want them trapped in the place he’d left them, by choice or not. He’d been terrified for Matt, for Curtis, and yet they’d formed the kind of bond he’d always wanted for them. And Reed...was still Reed. It was a relief to see him smiling, holding onto that brightness that had only gone dim once. He never wanted to see that happen again.

Especially not because of him.

He reclined on the stiff, leather armchair he’d always loved because it was sturdy and held the slight aroma of leather polish and lemon. The arms were wide enough for Matt to sit on if he wanted to be close while Lawson caught up on work late at night. Or like now, when he’d woken and simply needed something familiar while trying to wrap his mind around finally being home.

Curtis sat on the sofa with Reed, the sub looking like he’d already had too much caffeine. Having this conversation in the bar would’ve been better—given everyone a chance to relax into their own element—but The Asylum wasn’t fully theirs anymore. Wasn’t a sanctuary.

Wasn’t...safe.

Lawson rubbed his hand over his mouth, not sure where to start. Not sure he wanted to. He’d had several options in mind before having to reveal the marks. Before needing to decide what else he should share before he’d fully wrapped his mind around it himself.

Finally, he tilted his head to look up into Matt’s clear blue eyes. “Could you see if the coffee’s ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Matt stood without hesitation, moving smoothly toward the kitchen. Sounds of cupboards opening and the clink of mugs and spoons said he set a tray for them all.

Normal sounds. Sounds Lawson had been accustomed to once. He shook his head, breathing in the rich, tantalizing scent and let out a soft laugh. “I don’t remember the last time I had a cup of coffee.”

Curtis shifted, leather creaking, as he put his arm around Reed and pulled him closer. “I understood from Noah that the coffee in prison was swill, but I couldn’t imagine even you’d refuse to drink it.”

“No, I wouldn’t have.” Lawson took Curtis in, the sweep of his blond hair giving him a rakish edge he’d missed when it had been shaved off. Another experience that shouldn’t have happened, but he’d survived. They’d all survived. As they would this. He braced his hands on his thighs. “I’m sure you’ve guessed I wasn’t in any...standard prison.”

“So, not a Federal prison either?” Curtis lowered his gaze, frowning. “Who were the…men? That day. With Wren and Jamie.”

“From the information I was given at the time, they likely worked through some of the same channels Rhodey does. Only, more...expendable. The charges weren’t for any of their deaths. I’ve never even met the men I was accused of killing.” Lawson rolled his shoulders, smiling up at Matt as he came in with a tray that he set on the coffee table before picking up one mug and bringing it to him. “Thank you, my boy.”

Matt leaned over and kissed him sweetly before bringing Curtis and Reed each a cup, fixed the way they liked. He saved his own for last before settling on the floor and resting his head against Lawson’s knee.

“I never took you for a man who’d go on a killing spree.” Lips quirking along the edge of his mug, Curtis regarded him. “Rhodey might consider hiring you, if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll stick to shooting ducks during hunting season, thanks.” Lawson had been given plenty of time to remember the men he had shot. The bodies he’d paid to have disposed of, all mercenaries sent to kill Wren. It was one thing to shoot another person in defense of someone vulnerable. Until after the fact, in any case. He shoved the thoughts aside and took a long sip of coffee, letting out a soft, appreciative moan. “Other than the three of you, I don’t think there’s anything I missed more than one of your cups of coffee in the morning.”

Matt tilted his head back, looking at him at an angle that promised a crick in his neck if he stayed that way too long. “More than cigars and whiskey?”

“Definitely.” Lawson reached out to stroke Matt’s hair. Still in that short, stylish cut, slightly mussed from sleep, the golden shade a little darker without having been exposed to the sun, soft under his fingertips. His boy was a little paler than he’d like, but he’d get him out of this building more. Much more. “Fuck, it’s good to see you. So fucking good.”

Muscles along Matt’s throat constricted with his swallow. “All that. Every word, sir.”

Curtis made a warm sound. “Well done, my boy.”

Matt threw him a grin, his free hand moving unselfconsciously to the chain around his neck.

Gaze lingering at Matt’s throat for a moment, Curtis returned his focus to Lawson. “If you were a bargaining chip, they never said. So, why are you here?”

That is the question, isn’t it?

One Lawson...couldn’t quite figure out how to answer. What would these men, those he valued above all others, think of his decision? Would they even believe him? He took another sip of coffee, then rested the mug on the arm of the chair, away from Matt’s head so he didn’t risk spilling any on him.

“I don’t think they got the reaction they’d hoped for with me not being here. That would explain why they wanted me to call. To…” He shook his head and laughed. “Give you a reason to worry. But there was none. I was fine.”

Curtis ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek, a self-satisfied glint in his brown eyes. “Then we guessed right. Was a damn near thing a couple times, but we figured out a way to make it all work.”

Brow furrowed, Reed stared down at his untouched coffee. “Jamie almost getting a bullet in the head isn’t what I’d call a ‘near thing’.”

“And Wren got one above the eye.” Matt chimed in. “And it’s not any kind of bird season.”

Exhaling roughly, Curtis put his cup on the side table. “I meant Noah, Jared, and me not killing each other, but yes. There were other...issues.”

“Jesus, is Jared and Rhodey’s dark humor contagious?” Lawson gave Matt’s hair a light tug. “Wren was shot in...the head? He must be all right or…” Damn it, how the hell could he do this? Should he? He breathed in deep. “And who the hell tried to shoot Jamie?”

“Noah.” Matt looked at him near-upside down again. “Jared helped.”

“Is he…” Well, that would make quick work of the whole mess. “Was Jamie the inside man? That...no, that doesn’t make any sense. He’s had more than enough opportunities to kill Wren if he was.”

“No.” Shaking his head, Curtis stood, moving to the crystal whiskey decanter and taking the stopper out. “Let me try this from the beginning. Kovit was the inside man. He…” Searching for the word, Curtis twirled the expensive cut crystal top between his fingers. “Incited a lot of disagreements and hell, including snatching Keiran and luring Wren from The Asylum to ‘rescue’ him.” Amber alcohol gurgled into a glass before Curtis stoppered the decanter with a bright clink. “Jared went...AWOL on his right mind, bringing Noah over with him when the club went on lockdown after Wren escaped.” Licking his lips, he turned and tipped the glass to Reed. “Do I have it right so far?”

“Yeah...I mean kinda. Jamie almost got Noah calm. He was going to put down the gun before Jared set him off, and he was in that fucked-up warzone headspace. I told Jamie not to go near them, but...he almost pulled it off, and if Noah had gotten out with the gun…” Reed hugged himself, sinking into the sofa as much as the stiff leather would allow. “And Wren...fu—who could blame him? Keiran’s bloody apron was just hanging there outside his window. I woulda done the same thing.”

Matt whispered, sotto voce to Reed, “You said ‘fucked-up’, dude.”

“You both did.” Lawson’s lips curved slightly. Sharing discipline with Curtis was going to be...enjoyable. He preferred Matt know the rules and follow them by choice, only curbing him when necessary, but also loved how creative Curtis could be. And while he’d never felt Matt would want a collar, Curtis’s suited him. As did his style of control. A balance that they’d all needed. But now wasn’t the time for punishments. “We’ll tally the infractions when we’re done here.” He returned his focus to Reed, then Curtis, not sure who he was more likely to get the answers he needed from. “I knew about Kovit. Not the details or the end result, but I was informed that he was no longer in play.”

“So…” Staring at the bottom of his glass like he read tea leaves and didn’t like the answer, Curtis frowned. “They needed someone else. On the inside.”