Chapter 9

The moving truck pulled away from the curb with the driver giving Lawson a wave through the open window before turning the corner and rumbling out of sight. Sweat had the white tank top Lawson was wearing clinging to his chest, but he was satisfied with how efficiently the move had been carried out.

He wouldn’t have paid to have professionals come in, pack up everything, and haul it to his new loft, but the owner of the moving company owed him. Dave Bristow had been a regular at the club since its inception and was one of their better fighters. Good enough that Law had accepted his challenge.

And he liked Dave well enough to make a covert arrangement for the man to pay him off in installments when Dave confessed he hadn’t told his wife, Becky, who he was fighting and how much the loss had cost. The woman was accepting of her husband’s ‘unsavory hobby’, didn’t even mind that the bisexual man was still friends with some of his past lovers.

Adding a ten-thousand-dollar debt to their already struggling business wouldn’t have been taken so well.

Not that Dave could hide scheduling a 5:00 a.m. move on a Sunday morning, but Becky knew Lawson had set them up a few big contracts with businesses moving into the city. She likely believed Dave was returning the favor.

Either way, it was just after ten and the job was done. He walked into the bar, inhaling the rich scent of fresh coffee, nodding a greeting to Ezran as the boy scrambled off the bar top where he’d been sitting. He wasn’t permitted to hang around the bar on nights it was open for regular patrons, but every morning he was down here, making coffee and giving the place a thorough cleaning, which earned him money for…whatever it was teenagers enjoyed.

Pulling out a stool, Lawson sat and studied the young man for a moment. Ezran didn’t drink or do drugs—they’d be having words if Lawson ever caught wind that he was doing either—but he had no idea what the boy’s interests were. He made sure the kid was well-fed, safe, and kept his grades up.

Noah would expect more for his ward, but Lawson hadn’t the first clue how to deal with children. Not that Ezran was a child, exactly. Close enough that he usually figured the less involved he was in the kid’s life, the less damage he could do. His own father had taught him that the hard way.

Looking nervous under Lawson’s scrutiny, Ezran tugged at the grease-stained, gray Marvel T-shirt he was wearing, stuffed his hands in the pockets of his torn-up jeans—Lawson was going to have to send someone to get the kid some new clothes—and cleared his throat. “Uh…do you want some coffee?”

“Yes, please.” Lawson frowned as Ezran scurried around behind the bar like a frightened mouse, grabbing a mug and filling it with coffee, almost spilling it on himself as he set it in on the bar. “Are you in some kind of trouble or does my very presence make you nervous?”

Ezran wrinkled his nose. “No?”

“Convincing.” Lawson sighed and took a long sip of coffee. He had a feeling he was going to need it. “You clearly have something on your mind. Spit it out.”

Swallowing hard, Ezran nodded. “I… I wanted to ask you something. I asked Curtis, but he said it was up to you.”

Brow raised, Lawson set down his mug. Had Curtis decided Lawson should be more involved in the boy’s upbringing or was this his backhanded way of forcing him to be the bad guy?

He had a feeling it was the latter.

Inhaling slowly, Lawson motioned Ezran over, doing his best to relax his features so the kid would stop looking like he was about to be interrogated by the goddamn cops. “You can ask me anything, Ezran. I’m not around as much as I should be, but that will change.”

“Yeah?” Ezran’s lips curved into an uncertain smile. “A bunch of us are going to the park to throw around a football and shit. You wanna come?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Ezran’s face fell. He folded his arms over his chest. “You’re busy. Was a stupid thing to ask.”

Lawson was busy, but he still felt like an asshole. He’d have to make it up to the kid somehow. The grease stains gave him an idea. “You’ve been spending a lot of time at the shop?”

That brought a wide grin to Ezran’s lips. He nodded. “Reed’s been teaching me a lot. I finally saved enough to buy an old bike to work on. Curtis won’t let me ride it until I’m eighteen, but I figure it’ll take me that long to get it in good shape.”

Well that explained what the kid was doing with his money. “I assume that’s not what you wanted to ask me about?” Lawson brought his coffee to his lips and smirked. Curtis wasn’t the only one who could play this game. “Though you should have. So long as you pass your driving courses and prove to me you won’t drive recklessly, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to ride it sooner. I could pitch in if you’re missing parts. Maybe come by sometimes and help you out?”

“Really?” Ezran’s eyes lit up. “That would be fucking awesome.”

“Your language is going to have me rethinking you being at the shop at all. Fix it.” Lawson gave Ezran a pointed look, pleased when he quickly nodded. “Now what was it you wanted to ask?”

Uncertainty stole the joy from Ezran’s features. He dropped his gaze and rubbed his hands on his jeans. The silence stretched out as Ezran seemed to consider how to best word his request.

Finally, he sighed and just blurted it out. “Can I go visit Noah?”

That son-of-a-bitch. Lawson’s jaw ticked. If Curtis was here, he’d knock the fucker out. He had some goddamn nerve laying this on Lawson’s shoulders. The answer had been the same for as long as Noah had been in prison.

Was it that hard to say “No” and change the damn subject?

He set his mug down and rubbed a hand over his face. “Ezran, we’ve discussed this.”

“I know, but I was fourteen when he made that decision. I’m old enough. I’ve been doing good in school and working hard. I’ll be qualifying for my black belt next month.” Ezran ticked each point off on his fingers. “All the shi—the stuff Noah wanted for me.”

“And he’s damn proud of you, kid.” Lawson folded his arms on the bar top, holding Ezran’s stubborn gaze with the most patient one he could manage. “But he doesn’t want you there. Discussion over.”

“But—”

“Enough.” Lawson kept his tone level, not wanting to upset the boy, but knowing nothing good would come from continuing this conversation. “Give me a list of parts you need for your bike. I’ll put in the order this week. I’m free Wednesday so we can—”

“Don’t fucking bother.” Ezran glared at him for a moment, then stormed off, almost walking into someone who was coming through the door leading from the stairs.

A vaguely familiar boy about Ezran’s age ambled into the bar, glancing back at Ezran, cringing as a door slammed. He looked at Lawson as though to comment, then clearly thought better of it and ducked behind the bar like he had every right to be there.

Watching him fix himself a cup of coffee, Lawson thinned his lips. This little thug had been with Matt when Curtis had confronted them both at the station. Matt had expected Lawson to intervene because he was ‘a kid’. He looked old enough to face the consequences of his actions.

The boy turned slowly. Chewed on his bottom lip.

Lucky for him, Curtis came down the hall just in time to save him having to explain what the fuck he was doing here, because Lawson was fairly certain the boy wouldn’t have been able to get a single word out.

Lawson turned his attention to Curtis, his tone hard. “Explain.”

“The kid’s staying with me.” Curtis clapped his hand down on the boy’s shoulder, almost knocking him over and forcing him to put his coffee down before he spilled it. “So’s his brother.”

They were brothers? Even better.

“No.”

“Guess I missed the part where I needed your permission.” Curtis’s lips slanted. He glanced over at the teen, who seemed to be trying to become one with the wall by the back bar. “Fix your brother a cup and take that upstairs, Garet. Me and my man here need to have a little chat.”

Jaw ticking at the ‘my man’, Lawson waited until Garet disappeared up the stairs with two mugs of coffee, then stood, stepping up to Curtis as he came out from behind the bar.

“I don’t care how badly you want to fuck that man, or how much you enjoy pissing me off. After the damage they’ve done—”