Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-eight
DAVE
He hobbled his way out to the car while Christian settled their account.
Leaning against the warm metal, taking the weight off his ankle with a thankful groan, he watched Christian walking across the forecourt toward him.
He still moved like he was ready to explode into action at any second, but the storm that had been behind his eyes for weeks had finally passed.
Dave had never been able to see anyone’s aura, unlike Morgan, but Christian’s gaze was lighter and clearer. It was only now he realized just how filled with turmoil it had been.
He knew he was grinning widely at him and when an SUV pulled into the lot, he glanced away and tried to control it. They hadn’t encountered any of that kind of trouble so far this trip, but it would be reckless to assume everyone would be happy with two gay guys, let alone gay shifters.
He schooled his expression further as the doors of the black vehicle opened, and then the smile left his face entirely. The four large men who’d got out were shifters, heading toward Christian.
Christian realized at the same time he did and pivoted on his heel, ready for trouble. As Dave moved forward, he saw Christian relax slightly, evidently recognizing the guy in front of him.
“Tony,” he said. “I was just coming to see you about last night.”
“Yeah?” The shifter he was talking to moved so close that Dave couldn’t understand why Christian hadn’t punched him.
But for some reason, he allowed it. Maybe he was showing respect.
Or maybe it was the sense of menace rolling off the guy and the way the other three were circling around, reminding Dave of nothing so much as wolves closing in on prey that had been hunted down but not yet killed.
He dropped his bag and moved to stand at Christian’s shoulder, earning a swift glance from Tony.
“You were going to explain running out on us and nearly losing us ten grand, were you?”
“What?” Christian’s shock was obvious. “How the hell would I have cost you that much? It was one fight.” He took a careful breath. He wasn’t as calm about Tony’s closeness as he seemed. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night, okay?”
For Christian, that was a huge admission. The problem was, to any who didn’t know him, it sounded like a grudging, piss-poor excuse for an apology.
“Dave was hurt up on the cliffs and I needed to get to him before dark.”
Tony’s gaze flicked again to Dave and this time rested on him, dark eyes narrowing in apparent thought.
“That’s okay, Taylor,” he said. “Just pay us the ten grand you owe, and you and your boyfriend can be on your way.”
Christian’s nostrils flared, the first sign of temper. “I haven’t got ten fucking grand,” he said. “And there’s no way I owe you that much.”
There was movement behind Dave. Before he could turn to meet the threat, he was shoved forward, his chest and cheek slammed onto the sun-hot hood of the SUV.
The impact stole his breath, and then his legs were kicked apart, sharp pain radiating up from his ankle like lightning. Sickness roiled through him and he closed his eyes to control it as his ankle throbbed angrily.
“You fucking—” Christian’s voice was raw with fury, but he cut himself off, evidently not wanting this to spiral completely out of control with Dave so vulnerable.
“You want to tell me that again?” Dave couldn’t see the speaker, his face pressed to the hood, but the voice sounded like Tony’s.
“I said, I haven’t got ten grand.” He could hear what it was costing Christian to try and sound calm, when every instinct was telling him to fight until those who were threatening him were neutralized.
He would have, if not for Dave being at their mercy.
“What the fuck do you want from me? I said I was sorry.”
“Sorry don’t pay the bills.”
Dave could hear Christian’s breathing, faster than usual, and the whisper of footsteps on asphalt as the other two hyenas kept circling.
“Tell you what, Taylor,” Tony said at last. “You come and fight for us today and you can be on your way.”
A long silence fell. Dave couldn’t see Christian’s face, but he felt his gaze on him anyway.
And then the guy behind Dave yanked his arm up higher behind his back, sharp pain exploding down to his fingers.
He bit his lip, hard, to stop the sound that wanted out. The metal hood burned under his cheek.
If not for his ankle, he might’ve tried something. But as it was, he’d crumple before he made it a step, and Christian would get himself torn apart trying to save him.
“And if I don’t?” Christian asked, so evenly he might’ve been asking about the weather.
“You won’t want to find out,” Tony said. The threat in his voice was like storm clouds rolling in. “Our town, our rules. And who the hell’s gonna miss a piece of shit like you?”
The silence that followed wasn’t long, not objectively, but it felt long. Like that breathless, endless moment when something had cracked but had yet to fall apart.
Dave could hear Christian breathing, and then something changed. As if he’d pulled all the fight in him inward, to hold it there until it was time to let it out.
“You made your point,” Christian said. “I’ll do it.”
The words were flat and final. Dave closed his eyes. For a second, he actually felt bad for the guy Christian would end up fighting.
But that faded fast, burned away by something colder. Because what stuck in his head now was the image of Christian shoved into a cage, bloodied and snarling, forced to keep fighting until some sadist in a black SUV decided he’d suffered enough.
A cold weight settled in Dave’s gut. It was a beautiful, clear day, the sun beating down from a cloudless sky, but he was shivering.
He wanted to say something, to tell Christian not to do it, that it wasn’t worth it.
That they’d find another way. But even as the words formed in his head, he was being hauled upright, like a trash bag being dragged out for collection.
His ankle screamed as his weight shifted, and his arm burned from the wrenching grip still holding it.
He was helpless, and they both knew it. If Christian refused... they might not walk away from this.
So he said nothing, clenching his teeth as he tried to ride the pain. He’d have to trust Christian to get them through. Trust the stubborn, reckless will to win that lived in his bones, whatever it cost him.
CHRISTIAN
No one laid a finger on Christian. They didn’t have to, not with the pale-eyed one shadowing Dave’s every move like a predator about to strike. Raf, he was called, and he felt just as dangerous now as he had at the pack house.
Dave would fight if he had to. He’d picked up enough tricks over the years, mostly from Christian himself. But he was limping, his balance would be off. And he didn’t have the instinct—the one that made him attack first and not stop until the threat was gone.
So Christian got in the SUV, and got out again at the canning plant. He wasn’t expecting it to be this busy, with multiple cars pulling in and voices cutting through the morning air. It was early, but the place felt like a Friday night in full swing.
“Clock’s ticking, Taylor,” Tony said, as Christian paused, needing to see where they were taking Dave. “Australia’s already watching.”
Christian didn’t answer, but something turned in his stomach.
A twenty-four-seven fight club. He’d always thought of fighting as something pure—honest, in its own brutal way, when the only thing that mattered was who fought hardest. This wasn’t that.
This was exploitation for profit, and he was glad he wasn’t going to be part of it for long.
They pushed him toward the roped-off area, where Bear scowled like Christian had pissed in his cornflakes, and Ash bared his teeth in a snarl. He’d screwed them over, and they were going to make sure he bled for it.
He looked again for Dave. They’d been separated at the door, herded like cattle. Raf had let Dave limp along at his own pace from the SUV, but stayed so close he was breathing down his neck. Dave’s shoulders had been square, his spine straight, but Christian had seen the fear in his eyes.
He kept scanning until he found where they’d put him. At least they’d given him a chair. Raf stood behind it like a prison warden, arms folded, and when he caught Christian watching, he smiled.
Christian’s lip curled. If that fucker laid a single finger on Dave—
“Ten minutes,” Tony said.
Christian didn’t move. The world grew sharper as adrenaline kicked even higher at the familiar sounds—the slap of fists on pads, the low throb of bass from a speaker. But for the first time in his life, Christian didn’t feel like fighting.
Then he saw the way Raf was watching Dave. He wasn’t just standing guard—he was rehearsing something, counting down inside his head, and enjoying the wait.
Fear hit, fast and cold. There was too much space between them. He wouldn’t be able to get to Dave before…
He had to end this fast. He’d fight to win their freedom, and they’d both walk away from this. That was the bargain.
And then something shifted in the space around him. Conversations stopped mid-sentence, and as Christian looked, he saw people were standing a little straighter, looking a little tenser.
Barton had arrived. He stood at the edge of the floor, hands in his coat pockets as he looked around the place. When his gaze landed on Christian, he measured him for a moment, and then moved on, as if Christian wasn’t worth his time.
Christian’s breath fluttered in his chest. He couldn’t say why, but that calm, calculating gaze scared him more than anything Tony had threatened. The way Barton looked at him made him feel less like a fighter, and more like prey.