Chapter 2

I need to borrow that cage from Noah.

Folding his arms over his chest, Curtis leaned his hip against the back bar. “How’s that arm doing, Shea?”

Shea’s jaw worked as he met Curtis’s eyes.

A sharp pain in Curtis’s calf jerked his attention from the exchange. To where Wren had apparently lost control of the leash, both him and Keiran staring at Curtis from the door of the galley while Danny growled up at him.

Jerking back, Curtis barely stomped on the impulse to punt the sub into next week with his steel toed boot. “Get your fucking mutt out from behind my bar.”

Poring over the bet book, Jacks gave Danny a mild look. “Sic ‘em.”

“No.” Blain stepped around the bar and gave Danny’s leash a tug. He glared at Jacks. “I don’t care about your personal bias. This isn’t right.” He held the leash out to Keiran. “Bring him back in the kitchen. No treats—get that look off your face or I’m telling Avery to get Rhodey. Don’t think I don’t see him hovering.”

As if.

Rhodey had all but abdicated responsibility around the place since the criminal underworld had stopped taking pot shots at The Asylum’s members. Rubbing his ankle, Curtis glared at Danny’s disappearing tail. Wishing it were real so he could tug on it to produce a satisfying yelp.

“It doesn’t look like you’ll be winning any blue ribbons from the Kennel Club anytime soon.” Snagging a Glencairn glass, Curtis poured a whiskey for a Dom who’d never ordered anything but for the past five years. Handed it to him with a slight nod while addressing Shea. “Have you even gotten to ‘sit’ and ‘stay’ yet?”

“Funny, I don’t think I’d be so cocky if my sub was headlining.” Shea brought his bottle to his lips, nudging Jacks with his elbow. “You?”

The glass bottle made a satisfyingly dangerous THUMP! as Curtis replaced it on the top shelf.

He’s going to win… He’s going to win… He’s going to…

God. Damn. It.

Jacks gave Shea a warning headshake. “Leave it, Shea.”

“I am on my best behavior.” Shea lowered his gaze when Blain frowned at him. “Okay, fine. But I’m trying. Fuck, my boy gets to just have fun. And he is.”

“No thanks to you.” Blain held Shea’s gaze for a moment. “But it is something that you’re not letting him get dragged into this mess. Jacks, I think it would be best for you to check on him before Rhodey shows up and does it for you.”

The bar sound system clicked over to Reed’s new favorite song, React by The Pussycat Dolls, as Jacks pushed away from the bar, his gaze on Shea. “Don’t do it.”

“I don’t have to.” Elbow on the bar, Shea gave a slanted smile. “Look at him. He knows.”

Head in his hands, Matt groaned, sliding down further on his stool.

Curtis looked from Matt, to Jared, who focused intently on his newly delivered dinner, then back to Shea, who—if he grinned any harder—was about to start drooling like the idiot he was. “What do you know? Is he planning to throw the fight? Damn it, he promised he wouldn’t.”

“No one ever knows whether he’ll throw it. It’s an educated guess. He’s already let Sin put his hands all over him.” Shea shrugged, smirking a bit over the rim of his bottle. “If it makes you feel better, the bets are split. He’ll bring in a pretty penny for the club either way.”

If Curtis let every dick in the place get to him, he’d have nothing but a life full of hemorrhoids.

Looks like I’m gonna need a tube of Preparation H.

Palming the soda wand, he pressed the water button and sprayed Shea in the face.

“Asshole.” Sputtering, Shea shoved off his stool, swiping water off his face as he backed out of reach. “I’m not getting fucking suspended because of you. You need to start shit, look elsewhere.”

One eye on the metal bar clock, Jared snagged the wand from Curtis before he could aim again. “You’re done. Out of the bar.”

Coming out from the galley, Keiran caught the exchange, paling as if he knew exactly what was going down. Under his breath he said something in Spanish Curtis knew too well, a string of curses he wouldn’t risk with Rhodey or Dallas around.

Already around the bar, Curtis snapped his phone out of his pocket.

At two-’til-eight, his boy would be about to bump fists. No way was he doing that without Curtis there to keep him in line. To remind him why it’d be a very bad idea for him to throw that fight.

To show him what he could have...

If he won.