Chapter 4

Whatever game Curtis was playing, Lawson wanted no part of it. He climbed into the ring without bothering to change his clothes and ignored the irritated look Matt gave him. The boy had no clue what he was in for. Or what Lawson could do to him if he was in the mood.

The ‘usual’ rules meant Matt would essentially belong to him for one night of Law’s choosing. Letting him tap out would be more than a loss. Lawson could take him upstairs—once Doc got him patched up and he was fully recovered, of course. Because they both knew he wouldn’t take it easy on the man.

In the ring, not in the dungeon. Those who signed up for fights with that caveat were here willingly. Consent was understood between the fighters unless other stipulations were made, and regardless of the outcome, both parties came out…well, they both tended to come in any case.

For all he knew, this was Curtis’s attempt to level the playing field by distracting Lawson to save himself some money, but he doubted it. Matt was a hot piece of ass and tempting as hell. Curtis probably hoped to find a way to keep the man long past what it would take to pay off the damages. Once Matt understood there was money to be made in this ring, and the intense pleasure to be found in surrendering to the right man, he might want to stay.

He’d be more open to Curtis’s advances.

The bastard wanted Lawson to soften Matt up.

Lawson might have played along if Noah was still free. His ex-lover had enjoyed seducing the green-as-fuck fighters, and he’d been damn good at it. There had been nothing more erotic than watching Noah dominate a man in the ring, then continue once he had the same man naked and bound in chains. Every fighter in The Asylum would sign up to fight Noah, knowing how the night would end.

These days, Lawson didn’t find much pleasure beyond what took place in the ring. And he rarely allowed himself even that. He frowned as he looked around the expansive space, now lit up and crowded, with specks of dust dancing in the light, the air musty from the room being closed for almost a month while focus had turned to finishing the lofts.

Once Lawson was done with Matt, he’d strongly suggest Curtis send the fucker home. Let the cops deal with him as should’ve been done in the first place. He wouldn’t lie, seeing Matt strip down, right there, had weakened his resolve. The man had a body that would usually have Lawson thinking of fucking, rather than fighting. Long, wiry build, tight abs, nicely carved arms and legs, and an ass with the kind of curve Lawson craved. Some men lost themselves so much to building and toning, their asses were like granite. Matt had some softness to his. A softness that would give perfectly as Lawson gripped him tight and—

And nothing.

If Lawson was that hard up, he had any number of men he could have with no more than a glance and a nod. Reed’s mouth had Lawson wondering if he should take him upstairs. Under protection for Noah or not, the quirky sub was getting a bit too bold.

He eyed the young man and dismissed the idea. Noah’s clear “Hands off” rules aside, he didn’t stir the lust in Lawson that Matt did. But someone would. Anyone who didn’t find spray painting fucking swastikas on a building some form of entertainment. Someone who wouldn’t come into the only place Lawson considered home and try to destroy what he’d built with his closest friend. Noah had given everything to this goddamn place.

No one got to fuck with it.

In a better mindset for the coming fight, Lawson finally set his gaze back on Matt, enjoying the way he shifted uncomfortably as the crowd pushed against the barrier and jeered at him. Word had gotten around as to exactly why he was here from some of the insults he heard thrown at the man. All bets would be against him.

Curtis would rake in a ton of cash if, by some fucked-up bloody miracle, his boy managed to best Lawson. Not being completely humiliated was the most Matt could hope for. Being able to walk out of the ring?

Lawson wasn’t that cruel. The other fighters would leave Matt alone if they saw justice served. If they didn’t, he’d have to watch his back every time he climbed up a ladder to paint one of the walls here. Or crossed the street to grab a snack at the corner store. Or was out of Curtis’s sight for more than five minutes.

Hopefully, Matt wasn’t one of those ‘I know how to fight because I took some karate in elementary school’ kind of guys. Lawson had dealt with a few of those when the club had first opened. He no longer took on fighters because ‘a buddy’ had gotten them through the door. A challenger had to prove themselves first, get bloodied up in the ring against some regulars. Win enough matches that the crowd would start wondering if this new fighter would be the one to take Lawson down.

Most weren’t wondering that now. The bets wouldn’t be on who would win.

They’d be on how long Matt would last.

And maybe…if he’d make it out of the ring alive.

Lawson had never killed a man here. He wasn’t about to start tonight. He leaned against the padded post in the red corner, frowning when he saw who the ‘referee’ was. Not that a ref had much purpose other than to begin and end the match, but he still couldn’t get used to seeing Ezran, Noah’s sixteen-year-old ward, getting so comfortable around here.

In the center of the ring, Reed was speaking low to the boy, who he’d dressed in a striped shirt better suited to an old-fashioned prison movie than for someone overseeing a goddamn underground fight. Patting Ezran’s shoulder, Reed reached out to brush the boy’s overgrown, sleek black hair away from his face. Big green eyes peered up at Reed before Ezran stiffened his slender shoulders and nodded.

As Reed exited the ring, a man in the crowd whistled.

“Where’s this pretty little twink been hiding?”

Lawson went still. Rage spilling through his veins, he moved toward the ropes, but there was no need to vault over them. Curtis had locked on to the bastard who’d spoken up. Blood sprayed as a massive fist caught the man in the bridge of his nose and he went down hard on the concrete floor. The crowd made room as Curtis hefted the man up and dragged him to the edge of the ring, blood spilling over the man’s lips as he cowered and tried to shield his face.

“He’s sixteen, you piece-of-shit.” Curtis’s voice had taken on a low, deadly edge that had Lawson folding his arms over his chest and relaxing back against his corner, knowing the bastard would be handled appropriately. “Apologize to him for being fucking scum, then get the fuck out of here. I see you so much as look at him again and I’m crushing your balls with the butt of my gun before putting a bullet through your dick, you hear me?”