This was all getting a lot too mushy-touchy-feely for Chase, yet still he answered in a voice so raw it startled him. “Yeah, it does.” He shifted, swallowing a groan at the too-familiar pain in his body as he tried to get his back against the couch. He needed something to support him if he was going to remain upright.
“Let me help.” Bo was up and grabbing at him before Chase could protest, and before
he knew what was what, Bo had hold of his arms and Max had his ankles. Chase was gently manoeuvred around until his feet were propped on a coffee table Max had pulled over with one booted foot, and the pressure in his aching back was finally relieved by the firm cushions behind it.
“Thank you.” Chase’s eyes burned and his nose tingled as he looked at the two men. It shouldn’t make him all emotional, but having two strangers be so kind to him did just that.
It’d been a long time since anyone had been nice just because they wanted to, not because they wanted something from him or were scared he’d go holy flying bat shit on them.
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Of course, Josh could have told Bo and Max that Chase was a little weird, he was…he
was what? The usual stable of insults concerning his mental state refused to surface. Chase had been collecting terms for being crazy ever since he’d been told he was two minnows short of a bait bucket. That little nugget had been from James’ dad, actually. Chase had been shocked down to his toes that Mr Stratton knew what a bait bucket was.
Max patted Chase’s shoulder, drawing him out of his head and into Max’s concerned
stare. “I’m gonna go get Josh, he wanted to check you over once you woke up.”
Bo plopped down beside him and looked Chase over from head to toe before pinning
him with an eerily perceptive stare. “You’ve had a shit time of it, haven’t you? Maybe you need a hug.”
Chase had never squeaked, not once in his life, but he came close to it just then when Bo opened his arms. If he hadn’t seen the teasing light in the man’s eyes, Chase might have done more than shrink away from Bo. Instead, as if to prove how riotous they were, his emotions shot up from near-tears to prankster in a split second.
Chase lowered his lids and fluttered his lashes at Bo as he reached for the blond. “I knew you’d fall for the wounded act!”
But Bo won the round when he carefully enfolded Chase in his arms. “And I knew
you’d fall for the teasing act. There isn’t anything wrong with accepting comfort when it’s offered, and when you need it so much.”
For all that, it was barely a hug—it may have been that Bo was afraid of hurting him, or being hurt, or maybe even he was worried Chase would get the wrong idea. Still, it was something Chase hadn’t had in ages and hadn’t known he’d wanted or needed. He wasn’t sure how to handle it, but figured soaking Bo’s shirt in tears and snot wasn’t the best way to pay the man back for this kindness, so he stomped his emotions down until they were
buried, just like he preferred them to be.
Chase pressed his hands to Bo’s sides for a second, then leant back. Bo got the hint and eased away, but he watched patiently as Chase tried to get his shit together.
This being
emotionally fragile shit sucks.
The doctor had warned him stuff like this might happen since his brain had got rattled good, but it still made Chase feel like a weak excuse of a man. He averted his gaze, not wanting Bo to see what he was thinking and somehow certain the man www.total-e-bound.com
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would do just that. Chase didn’t feel like trying to explain that it was okay for Bo or other people to fall apart, but not for Chase to do the same.
“Good, you’re awake.”
Chase rolled his eyes at Josh.
Talk about stating the obvious.
“Yeah. I’m fine, though I don’t need—”
Josh stepped in front of him and glared. “You can either let me check, or I’ll have Nick, Bo and Max hold you down while I do it. It’s up to you.”
The threat evoked those dark emotions that had reared up during Chase’s nightmare
and he shoved himself up from the couch, ignoring the pain in his ribs and everywhere else as he glowered at Josh. “I said I’m fine—umph!” Chase fell back under the pressure of hands pulling him down from behind. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“I’m trying to help,” a deep voice rumbled. Chase recognised that voice as belonging to Nick. He craned his head back until it rested against the top of the couch and found himself almost nose to nose with Josh’s lover. Nick’s big hands were still clamped to Chase’s shoulders. A whimper slipped free before he could stop it; Nick’s grasp was entirely too hard on Chase’s injured shoulder.
“Shoulder, Nick!” Josh snapped, already pushing at Nick’s hand. “The idea is to let him get better, not make him worse.”
“Shit!” Nick straightened up and let go of him but moved one hand to the back of
Chase’s neck. He took that for the warning he thought it was—be still or else. “Sorry, Chase.
Just let Josh do his thing, will you?”
Chase expected an unspoken threat, a tightening of that hand, but it never came.
Instead Nick stroked Chase’s nape, then left off touching him. The gentle touch unsettled Chase, not that there was anything sexual about it, but still. These people kept surprising him.
“How are your ribs?” Josh asked, gently pressing against Chase’s left side.
“Fucking sore,” Chase said, the snarl he’d tried to infuse into his voice turning into something all too close to a whine for his peace of mind.
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“Happens when they get cracked,” Josh pointed out. He fingered the area until Chase
wanted to shout at him to stop, then Josh proceeded to feel his way up to Chase’s clavicle.
“Here? How bad is it?”
Chase fisted his hands against his thighs and tried to think of something besides pain.
“It’s not as bad as the ribs.” But it was damned close. Hoping to stop this torture session disguised as a check-up, Chase said, “Shoulder hurts worse than all of it.” He pointedly didn’t mention that was thanks in a large part to Nick grabbing him and trying to jerk his shoulders plumb off his body. He didn’t need to because Josh shot a glare over Chase’s head that damn near singed the hair off it.
“I said I was sorry,” Nick grumbled. Chase would have felt sorry for the big idiot, but his shoulder felt like it had been torn inside all over again, so Nick was on his god damned own.
He was so tired, and his rollercoaster emotions were straining him almost as much as his injuries. Chase wasn’t sure what to make of these men. They were kind and confusing and snarly and bossy…and he just might need people like them, at least for a while. Yet even admitting that was so unlike himself that Chase shied away from it, choosing instead to let sleep carry him off. He’d rather risk another round of nightmares than try to figure out why he was willing to stay and let these people help him.
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It was turning out to be another frustrating night for Xavier, but after the hangover and what had happened to Billy, he was trying not to be an ass—and he was definitely staying away from the alcohol. He checked his phone to see if maybe he’d missed a text or call from Randy. Xavier had been trying to get a hold of his brother all damn day. Usually his fights with Randy didn’t end in violence, but last night hadn’t been the first time they had come to blows. Still, Randy always seemed over it in his own hateful way the following day. He needed to make sure he hadn’t seriously hurt the asshole, then he might just beat him again.
Although, Xavier thought as his head throbbed, judging from the way he was feeling,
he may well have been the one who got a beating last night. If he hadn’t been so drunk…
Xavier started to run his hands through his hair only to stop with a wince. What did Randy hit him with anyway? A freaking lead pipe?
And where the hell was Billy? Xavier had decided to work in the employee break room
since his office was a disaster. He’d left on occasion to check on the club, but short of a few new faces—and no Randy—there didn’t seem to be anything going on. One of the new faces gave him pause. The guy looked uptight, almost out of place, and way too spit-and-polished for somewhere like The Xxchange.
Must be some kinda cop or politician.
Xavier snorted and checked the time. Billy usually hung out with him during his break, unless Billy had found an interesting play toy. He wasn’t supposed to mess around on the clock, but Billy said breaks didn’t count and since he didn’t do anal then it shouldn’t matter. But Billy hadn’t mentioned anyone catching his eye, so Xavier had kind of been expecting him.
Maybe Billy had got busy chatting with Adam after Adam had given Xavier two weeks’
notice. Which sucked royally, but Adam was all sappy and doe-eyed over his partner, Les, who just happened to be a snarly cop. And Billy had been bouncing with happiness at seeing Adam again, so yeah, maybe that’s what the hold-up was.
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Except, what if it wasn’t? Xavier couldn’t say what made him shiver any more than he could explain why he was up and moving towards the door before the goosebumps fully
pricked his skin. The sense of wrongness hit him instantly and he didn’t bother to ignore it.
Besides, it’d be better to look paranoid and be wrong rather than right, in his opinion.
Xavier found Adam at the bar picking up a tray of drinks and chatting with the
bartender, Troy. The thing about Adam was the man was more friend than employee,
although they hadn’t started out that way. Adam had a definite aversion to being groped, and to the tiny ‘uniforms’ of leather shorts and ankle boots Xavier used to have the waiters wear. Used to, because Adam had given him hell and mooned Xavier in his office to show off the spectacular set of bruises he’d had on his pale ass from overzealous—okay, horny—
customers. Now Xavier just had his waiters wear jeans and an Xxchange tank top, unless they really wanted to wear the shorts.
Xavier tried to wait for the men to finish talking, using the time to look over the club.
Still no sign of Billy
, he thought, and he was done with waiting. “Adam,” he growled, sounding harsher than he’d meant to.
Adam stopped mid-word and turned to give him an arch look. Sky blue eyes looked
thunderous as Adam cocked a hip. “Excuse me? Am I not allowed to ask Troy how he’s been doing? Did you suddenly become a dictator or—”
Xavier slashed a hand through the air to shush Adam’s rant, then slapped his hand
down on the bar hard enough to shoot zings of pain up to his elbow. “I don’t care about that!
Where is Billy?”
Adam frowned, turning to look out at the tables. Troy glanced at the door behind the bar and answered. “Actually, now that you mention it, he went on break a while ago. Said he was going to chill in the back room.”
Those words raised Xavier’s suspicions into a wailing alarm in his head. “Alone?” he asked, as he made his way behind the bar. Billy didn’t usually do alley fucks, not that Xavier knew of, but there was always a first time. That scenario still didn’t fit, though. “Stay here and take care of the bar, Adam.” Troy was already following him, and Xavier would rather have the big bartender with him than Adam. If Adam got hurt, Xavier would have Les all over him, and rightfully so. Besides, Troy liked a good fight every now and then, and Xavier www.total-e-bound.com
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was afraid that’s just what they were both fixing to get. Xavier opened the door, Troy hovering behind him. He called Billy’s name but got no response, confirming what his eyes told him. The backroom was empty except for the stock.
“You’re sure he went in there, Troy?”
The bartender frowned as he nodded. “Yeah, close to fifteen minutes ago. Maybe he
went out back?”
Xavier cursed as he and Troy ran through the room towards the exit. Xavier slammed
the door open so hard it bounced off the outside wall and nearly flattened Troy. Xavier didn’t give a shit just then, his blood was boiling in his veins as fury clouded his thinking, his vision; stole the breath from his lungs.
The only thing he could see was Billy—beaten, hurt and kneeling in front of Randy
while Randy glared defiantly at Xavier and tried to ram his dick down Billy’s throat. A glint of streetlamp reflected off a knife in Randy’s hand and Xavier about lost his mind as rage pummelled him.
The growl that tore from Xavier sounded animalistic. It was the kind of sound he’d
never heard himself make before. It coiled his guts and burned its way up his throat, scorching him with the intensity of his anger. The level of anger he felt was nothing he’d ever thought himself capable of, and apparently neither had Randy.
Xavier was barely aware of other hands reaching for him, fists swinging, yells and
thumps and cursing. He was focused on Randy, the sick fuck, and he lunged, grabbing
Randy’s wrist hard enough to crush bones—he hoped.
Randy screamed, cursing Xavier. The hatred in Randy’s expression contorted the man’s features into an ugly mask as he shoved forward, trying to throw his weight against Xavier.
The knife dipped close to Xavier’s chest. He grunted and tightened his grip, squeezing harder on his brother’s wrist, fury and pain flooding him as he realised Randy wanted him dead.
The knife fell from Randy’s hand just as Xavier brought his other fist up and slammed it against Randy’s mouth. Anything,
anything
to stop the hateful words coming from his mouth. Randy’s words hurt as much as any physical pain Xavier had ever felt.