11. Basher
BASHER
Rushing out of his bedroom, Basher slipped his shirt over his shoulders, then pulled it down as he entered the living room.
Keys. Where were his fuckin’ keys?
This was the second time he had overslept this week, and he didn’t want to face the tormented jokes that no doubt would be thrown his way by Blade and Nikolai, and probably Caden.
The guys were cool but didn’t miss an opportunity to rib one another. And lord knows how much Basher hated being the center of attention.
Spotting the metal ring holding the keys to his bike and his temporary home, he snatched them from the coffee table, then shoved his cell into his pocket.
Just as he was about to pull open the door, his phone began to ring.
He fished it out and answered.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s Marcus.”
“Oh, hey, boss, what’s up?”
“I’m pulling you off security tonight. I got a special job I want your help with today.”
“Sure thing, boss. What kind of job?”
“The kind that tends to get a bit messy. You might want to bring a spare shirt and whatever hardware you're most comfortable using,” Marcus added.
Hardware was code for bring your favorite weapon. And there was only one weapon that Basher enjoyed using.
He hung up the phone and went to the closet to retrieve his hardware.
There she was.
Resting silently in the corner, waiting patiently to make her New Mexico debut—his trusty aluminum bat. Arlene.
God, she brought back memories.
Basher wrapped his hand around the neck of his little baby and pulled her from the closet. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface, caressing her curves as he reunited himself with his old friend.
He and his baby had been through a lot together. He still remembered the first time he used Arlene to teach some assholes a lesson.
It was the summer he turned fourteen. By then, he had already gone through four foster homes, and it didn’t seem like he was slowing down anytime soon.
The fire in his belly burned strong, and it seemed like the more he talked to people, the more he wanted to punch them in the face. People just aggravated him.
It was midafternoon, and he and a few of the other kids in his class were at the public baseball field, smacking around a few balls.
There were only four of them on the field, so they weren’t playing with any real rules or anything. They basically took turns up at bat to see who could hit the ball the farthest.
“Throw the ball properly, Barry, or I’ll come out there and knock your fuckin’ teeth in,” Tobias threatened.
At that time, Basher went by Tobias—Tobby if he was feeling friendly with someone. But he had gone by Basher for so long, it almost felt criminal to use his birth name, even in memory.
“Don’t make threats you can’t keep,” Barry, the pitcher, shouted, winding up to throw the ball, then letting it fly across what should have been home plate.
Crack!
The aluminum connected perfectly with the ball, sending the leather sphere flying over the fence and into the parking lot.
Basher began to chuckle. “Eat that, shit for brains.”
A clap behind him caught his attention.
A group of seven or eight boys approached him, each of them at least a head taller than Basher. Judging by their size and the smug grins plastered across their faces, they were several years older and clearly looking for trouble.
“Looks like someone thinks he’s king shit,” the biggest boy sneered as he strode up to Basher and stopped mere inches from his face.
“Oh shit,” Barry whispered from somewhere behind him.
Basher wasn’t surprised. Barry had always been the type to fold at the first sign of trouble, and the sight of a group of older boys looking for a fight was enough to make him shrink into the background.
“Compared to you and your band of wimpy men, I’m the goddamn greatest,” Basher snarled, standing up straighter so he was almost eye level with the bigger boy.
The guy began to laugh.
Basher’s left hand curled into a fist as his blood began to boil.
“Give me that fucking thing,” the man growled, tearing the bat from Basher’s hand and poking him hard in the chest with the end.
Basher stumbled back, eyes glaring at the man he was about to tear apart.
“Why don’t you go home and blow your little friends,” the guy snarled, a cocky smirk spreading across his face.
Oh, that was fucking it!
Without warning, Basher drove his fist into the bully’s face. The sickening crack of a broken nose echoed through the air, followed by a rush of blood spilling down the boy’s lips and chin.
The guy let out a cry, dropping the bat and clutching his nose.
Basher bent down and quickly retrieved his bat. Before he realized what he was doing, he swung the bat hard at the boy.
He was sent sprawling, crashing onto his side with a sharp cry of pain. Blood burst from his mouth as he coughed and spat out two broken teeth. Stunned, Basher stared at the growing pool of blood around him.
There was something about the sight of blood and the withering boy that calmed the storm brewing inside him.
Two other boys attempted to pounce on Basher, each being met with an up-close view of Basher’s bat.
All three boys keeled over in pain, sobbing and crying and calling Basher every name under the sun.
“So, who’s next?” Basher growled, looking up at the rest of the boys, who all looked terrified.
They all shook their heads, then turned and ran.
The three bleeding on the ground somehow managed to get to their knees, then hobbled off with their tails between their legs.
“You’re fuckin’ crazy, dude,” Barry called from where he and the other two boys were standing by the pitcher’s mound, staring at him like he was the actual devil himself.
Staring at his schoolmates, he realized that he would never fit in with the other kids.
Most hated him because he was a foster kid—a leftover kid with no family or parents who loved him. Others hated him because they feared him. They always saw him as this unstable kid who always lost his shit.
Fuck those kids. He didn’t need parents, and he didn’t need friends.
It was shortly after that when the kids at his school started calling him Basher.
Even when he was sent to live with a new foster family, the name somehow followed him. Kids talked, and thanks to social media, rumors traveled distances. Either way, kids were afraid of him.
Closing his closet door, he grabbed his keys, then headed out to meet the guys.
“So, you ready to bash some heads?” Blade shouted as he burst out of the back of Ride ’em Hard, a wide grin stretched across his face.
He practically bounced on the balls of his feet, looking like a kid who’d just been let loose in a candy store and told he could have whatever he wanted.
Caden and Marcus followed him out.
“Jesus. Can you at least try to act like an adult?” Caden commented, checking the chamber of his gun before shoving it into the back of his jeans.
With a flick of his wrist, Blade sent two steel daggers flying across the parking lot, striking the wooden target they had hung on the other side of the lot, dead center in the bull’s-eye.
“Can a kid do that?” Blade asked in one of his cocky-as-shit voices.
Caden rolled his eyes.
“It’s time I spent some quality time with my girls,” Blade said, sauntering across the lot to retrieve his daggers. “They’ve been feeling a little neglected lately.”
He yanked the blades free from the target with a satisfied grin, running a thumb along one of the edges as though greeting an old friend.
“And what’s your weapon of choice?” Marcus asked Basher as he walked up beside him.
Basher held up his bat.
“Ahh… I’m starting to get the name now.”
Basher scooped an empty beer can off the asphalt and tossed it into the air. With a swift swing of his bat, he crushed it mid-flight and sent it hurtling into the trees behind the bar.
Marcus nodded, clearly impressed with his power and strength.
“I also brought a semiautomatic in case the targets are moving.”
“Good choice,” Marcus said, slapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, we’re taking the van. Caden, are we all loaded?”
“Yeah, boss. Just give me a sec.” Caden checked his phone quickly, then slid it into his back pocket.
A moment later, Lucas and Cameron came rushing out the back door.
Lucas ran and jumped into Caden’s arms, locking his lips with his and making out like they were about to star in the dirtiest sex video Basher had ever seen.
“Bloody hell,” Marcus rumbled, clearly not impressed with the delay his crew was causing. Marcus rolled his eyes, then hopped into the passenger side of the van. “Can you boys hurry the hell up?”
“I’ll miss you every second that you’re gone,” Lucas spewed, heart-shaped eyes filling his face.
“Don’t do anything crazy while I’m gone. I’ll miss your sexy face too,” Caden added, slapping Lucas’s ass before jumping into the driver’s side.
Cameron slowly approached Basher.
“Are you going to suck my face off too?” Basher asked, giving the boy a smirk.
They hadn’t hooked up since the night Cameron sucked his dick, but they had been heavily flirting whenever they were around one another.
“No. I’m not sure Marcus could handle another display like that.”
Looking up at Basher, Cameron offered him a small, almost bashful smile.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful.” His voice softened. “And that you’ll come back to us in one piece.”
Basher wasn’t accustomed to having someone worry about his safety.
It was a strange feeling—new, unexpected, and far more meaningful than he wanted to admit.
The thought that someone would be waiting for him, hoping he returned unharmed, stirred a warmth in his chest and gave him something to look forward to when the job was done.
“Here, I made you these.” Cameron pulled a plastic container from behind his back and passed it to him.
Basher couldn’t help but smile as he popped the lid open to take a peek inside.
Chocolate chip and vanilla chunk cookies were crammed inside the container.
How many did Cameron think he could eat?
“You really are trying to make my six-pack disappear, aren’t you?”
Cameron smiled up at him. “Told you, you're sexy with or without that sexy V-thing you got going on down there.”
Basher looked at him, confused. “Oh! You mean my cum catchers?”
Cameron burst out laughing. “Never heard them called that before.”
“That’s because you’ve never slept with an ex-con before.”
Heat filled Cameron’s eyes as he licked his bottom lip.
“You two can fuck later,” Marcus growled from the open window of the van. “Get your ass in here, Bash, or we’re running you over.”
“I’d better go,” Basher mumbled, leaning down quickly to give Cameron a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for the…” He held up the container and gave it a shake as he ran to the back of the van.
Blade was waiting with the back doors thrown open and a grin that screamed, I’m never letting you live this down. He offered Basher a hand up into the van, his amusement impossible to hide.
Basher took one last look at the sexy bartender who was trying to fatten him up. He wasn’t sure why he’d kissed the boy’s cheek, but something inside his heart told him that it was the right thing to do.
He could get used to this warm, tingly feeling.
“So, what did you bring me?” Blade asked, licking his lips as he looked down at the container in Basher’s hands.
“Love handles and sugar.”
“Two of my favorite things,” Blade said, taking the container from Basher and popping off the lid.