Chapter 5

A solid punch to the man’s jaw knocked him backward over the table. The chair Augy grabbed for tipped over, landing on him. Another Dom went for Dallas, and Curtis leaped over the bar as Matt got into the fray. A fucking free-for-all. Dallas swung at the next comer. And the next. At his back, Curtis snapped a kick, catching someone in the chin.

From the back, a door crashed open. Giant ladle leading the way, a streak of white came flying out of the kitchen. Then came a deafening shriek.

The fire alarm.

Doc and Reed burst from the gym on a flood of members even as Lawson shoved through the stairwell with Rhodey. The tall, muscular man cleared the way with his fists, grabbing brawlers and throwing them out the door like he was taking out the trash before anyone had a chance to protest. His methods weren’t very diplomatic.

But definitely effective.

The members who remained were a subdued bunch who watched each other warily.

In front of the bar, Lawson’s concerned gaze fell on Matt first as his sub swiped beneath his nose with the back of his hand. Then shifted to Curtis. “Who started this?”

Dallas sighed as Rhodey flipped up the alarm and it cut off. “It was me.”

“It was fucking not.” The heated denial came from the man standing next to him. Wearing a chef’s apron, Keiran clenched a ladle in his fist like a weapon, glancing up at him with shining eyes.

The bandage on his neck was less heavy-duty than the initial ones that had covered the man’s stitches a week ago. Still, the sight of it brought Dallas back to the moment he’d pulled up to The Asylum’s security gates on his motorcycle to find Keiran clutching his throat. Covered in blood, sliding down the steel gate as the gang surrounded him. That night, Dallas reacted without hesitation, without thought of the risks to himself.

An instinct Keiran clearly shared.

“It was that one.” Glossy black hair spilling over his forehead, Keiran pointed the ladle at Augy, out cold on the floor. “He tripped Matt, then Dallas offered to take the punishment that bastard tried to issue.”

“Who threw the first punch?” The question came from Doc, who’d gotten his medical bag and begun patching up Matt.

Head lowered, Dallas raised his hand.

Keiran pressed it down to his side. “After he grabbed you by the cojones.”

Left hand twitching as if seeking the weight of his cuff, Dallas glared at Augy. The whole thing had gone down like a fight where one hand was tied behind his fucking back. Curtis probably didn’t feel much different. He glanced over to where Curtis leaned against the bar, a dark scowl on his face.

Moving to Curtis’s side, Lawson curved a hand around the back of his neck. Whatever he whispered brought a flash of head to Curtis’s eyes. Nodding, he moved behind the bar and began cleaning up shards of glass and spilled drinks.

“All right. We’re done here.” Rhodey swung around, expression daring anyone to contradict him. “Dungeon and ring are closed for the night.”

“I’ll get the mop and—”

Dallas stopped when Doc stepped in his way, shaking his head. “Not with that piece of wood sticking out of your arm.”

Left hand, twitching again. A nerve response. To the six-inch sliver of chair leg jutting through his flesh. Both disgusting and messy. At least not too much blood. There was enough to clean up in this place.

Knees buckling, he went down…

Onto a chair someone shoved behind him.

Shaking his head, Keiran chuckled. “Not exactly the same as you saving my life, but I think we’re getting somewhere on evening out that debt.”

The humor lifted some of the haze, making Dallas’s lips twitch. Doc cut his shirt sleeve with some scissors, beginning the process of cleaning the wound.

The room swam as Dallas tipped his head back.

Fuck...other people’s blood is much easier to deal with than my own.

Little tugs registered as Doc began to sew him up. “If you’re left-handed, you’ll have to get a boyfriend until this heals.”

Dallas let out a rough laugh, glancing to Keiran who perched on the ledge of a nearby table, hands curved over the edge. Swinging his legs, Keiran winked at him. “Don’t worry, corazón. I’m sure you’re covered.”

Heat narrowed Dallas’s gaze and his dick pulsed, suddenly more alert than his brain.

“I’m right-handed.”

And it’s a damned shame.

Slipping off the table, Keiran squeezed Dallas’s good arm on the way by. “Come find me when you’re done, guapo. I have to turn off the fryer and put the food away.”

Neck craning, Dallas caught a glimpse of the man’s pert backside in bright aqua denim before he slipped into the galley. Tipping his head back, Dallas groaned. Keiran probably called everyone by those sweet nothings, but damn if Dallas didn’t find the little nicknames a complete mindfuck. Especially with that smooth accent he’d hardly noticed at all when the man was speaking English.

Is the guy coming on to me?

Or was it just him being...him?

Keiran probably flirted out of habit. As a stripper, catering to customers’ egos was a thing he’d have cultivated. Maybe it had just become part of his personality.

Two fingers brought his head back around and Doc shook his head at him, ice blue eyes holding a glint of humor. “Stop second-guessing yourself and ask him.”

“Ask him…?” Huh?

Shrugging, the snake tattoo on his neck gliding upward with the motion, Doc sealed the bandage over his arm. “For a date. Netflix and chill. Whatever it is nowadays.”

Dallas’s brows shot up, along with the corners of his mouth. “You’re spending too much time with Jamie.” He snorted, shaking his head. “And where am I supposed to bring him? The Asylum’s French Bistro?”

Candlelight was only on order here with wax or fire play in the dungeon. This was not the place for a date. Unfortunately he didn’t have the money to wine and dine the little stripper. Who must be used to the best of everything—something Dallas could have given him if...if he weren’t gay. And if his father hadn’t disowned him when he’d come out at a corporate Christmas party at eighteen. After sneaking champagne cocktails from the bartender he’d blown in the broom closet before the festivities began.

Silver bells and shiny red bows decked the venerable halls of Stephens’ Biodynamics, ribboning past green garlands and looping around every marble pillar. Laughing, on his way out of a broom closet’s murky confines, Dallas pulled down one of the imitation fir decorations and looped it around his shoulders, twirling on unsteady feet. “I’m a fucking supermodel.”

Still tucking in his shirt, the bartender—Lenny or...was it Larry?—shushed him, his Brit accent a decadent pour of honey down Dallas’s spine. “Quiet, mate. You’ll cost me my job.”

Laughing again, Dallas swept his arms wide, whirling so the steel girders and glass ceiling high above spun with him. “I can’t cost you your fucking job. I practically own this place.”

“Well, in that case…” Lenny…Larry—hottest piece of ass ever—leaned in for a kiss. “I guess you won’t pretend not to know me when you come get that next cocktail.”

Dallas snickered at the words ‘cock’ and ‘tail’ in the same word, hearing it like a filthy little limerick. “Damn right. I’m gonna marry you and put you through med school. Take you away from all this.”

“Sure, mate.” The bartender yanked him up when his knees sagged a little. “How ‘bout you just concentrate on not pissing yourself for now.”

With one finger, Dallas poked the man in the center of his white tuxedo shirt. “Right. No pissing. Just prop…proposing.”

They made it to the reception hall, where the hum of guests rose like a swarm of bees behind the high arched doors. Lenny...Larry swore softly.

“What is the meaning of this?” Hair white at the temples, as distinguished as a monument, Thomas Stephens swept Dallas with an assessing look before his wrath turned on his temporary employee. “You’re fired. Get out.”

“Fucking figures. I told you.” Spinning away, his Prince Charming waved airily. “Whatevs.”

“No!” Dallas’s raised voice carried, bringing conversation in the packed ballroom to a halt. “You can’t fire him.” Rounding on his father, he made good on his promise, jabbing himself in his chest with his thumb. “I’m in love with him and I’m going to marry him. And we’re going to have a pool boy.”

Someone tittered.

“Get out. Both of you.” His father sliced the air to ribbons with his razor-sharp words. “And, Dallas… You’re no longer welcome in my home.”

Such a noble sacrifice.

Lenny...Larry...whatever his damn name was, had ditched him at the curb.

When Dallas had managed to wave down a cab, he’d asked the driver where he was from. Said, “take me there”. Then woke up in Anniston Falls.

And never looked back.

He blinked, realizing Doc spoke to him. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Doc’s lips thinned. “Don’t take too long though. He’s on a few shortlists around here already. Oh, and no work for the rest of the weekend.”

Tension riding along his shoulders, Dallas let out a disgusted sound. “Fucking great. I needed that paycheck.”

Tsking, Doc glanced at Dallas’s wrist. “You’re lucky I know that’s not how you came in tonight.”