Chapter 5

Mo

"Fucking gays."

I pause, the sports magazine in my hands flipped open to the bodybuilding section. A snort sounds behind me, and I turn, finding the old shopkeeper watching his security feed with a shake of his head.

"Is something the matter?"

Bushy grey eyebrows frown at me, the wrinkles around his eyes deep and bitter.

"I was gonna take my baseball bat to the fella' but it looks like the local boys took care of ‘em. Look." He points to a grainy image on the monitor above the counter.

I frown, stepping towards the counter to peer at the screen. A group of guys have surrounded someone and are pummelling away.

"What the fuck?"

I look out the window and sure enough, a bunch of guys look like they are having the time of their life beating the shit out of some poor soul on the ground.

"Fella' got out of his car wearing a shirt no man should be found dead in." The shopkeeper chuckles, watching the carnage continue on-screen.

"Did you call the cops?" A quick scan of the security feed tells me its four to one.

"Hell, by the time the sheriff gets here, the gay man will be dead." The old man grins, showing brittle and yellow teeth.

"So you're just going to stand there and watch?"

"There ain"t nothing wrong with letting the local boys do the Lord's good work." He makes the sign of the cross over his chest. I stare him down, feeling rage simmer beneath my skin as Jonathan"s voice sweeps through me.

You don't fight other people's battles, Maurice. You only fight your own.

But at what cost?

Clenching my jaw, I reach into my pocket and throw a twenty on the counter, "I need to borrow your baseball bat."

"Son, if you ‘bout to join the boys, there's no need to pay me. Hell, you can keep it for free."

The shopkeeper pushes the cash back before walking over and grabbing a wooden bat from the storage closet. I leave the bill on the counter and snatch the bat out of his hands.

"Happy hunting!" The old man cheerfully calls after me as I walk out the door.

Taking a quick scan of the situation, I assess the group of men mercilessly kicking the victim on the pavement and the jacked-up pickup truck sitting empty. I make a snap decision and stalk towards the truck before lifting the bat over my shoulder. A glance to the left tells me the group hasn"t noticed me yet so I go in for the kill.

One swing takes out the left headlight. Another swing finishes the right one.

My carefully contained anger starts to boil over as I keep swinging, the ever-present voice of my father taunting me with every window I smash.

Are you strong enough to take my place?

I"m just getting started on the windshield when I hear a shout behind me.

"Fuck, he's hitting your truck!"

Turning, I lower the bat and watch the four men stagger towards me. I roll my shoulders and stand up to my full height, towering a good five inches over the tallest of them.

"What the fuck man?" The biggest one of them stumbles towards me, his greasy hair tickling the collar of his stained shirt, "We were just havin" some fun."

I tilt my head, watching him sway closer, "The fun is over. Pack up your runts and go home."

"There"s no need to be bitchy about it." The drunk ambles closer, the confidence in his step starting to falter when he realizes the size difference between us.

"Ya man, we were just havin" a bit of fun. Chill the fuck out."

The one wearing a baseball hat flashes me a grin and that"s when I snap.

Grabbing the one closest to me, I lift him up by the collar and slam him against the side of the truck. He whimpers when his back makes contact with the broken window, but I don"t give him a chance to scream. I lean in closer, his pockmarked face blurring into something cold and disdainful.

Something that looks a lot like my father.

"Touch another person again and I will ruin you. Not kill you, ruin you. I will drain your family's measly income and destroy every acre you grew up on. Do you understand me?"

Bloodstained eyes blink a few times before he gives me a shaky nod.

"Good. Now get out of my sight."

I throw him to the ground and he shrieks when he lands on broken glass. Stepping over him, I hold my bat steady as I approach the rest of the group. They scurry like rabbits, running over to pick up their friend and pushing each other into the truck.

"Fuck! There's glass everywhere."

"Just go!"

The headlights flicker as they rev the engine, shards of glass littering the concrete as they peel out of the gas station.

Good riddance.

Taking a calming breath, I take a moment to shove my emotions back under lock and key. Carefully rearranging my expression back to neutral, I turn to see the shopkeeper staring at me in horror.

I meet his gaze with a slight tilt of my head, "You can keep the change."

Not bothering to wait for a response, I walk over to the man lying on the ground. The guy"s dark hair is caked with blood, his red shirt torn so thoroughly that I can see the dark bruises blooming all over his unconscious body. I swallow the nausea rising in my throat and kneel next to him to search his pockets for a wallet. Finding it in his back pocket, I flip it open and stare at the face smirking back at me.

It's Nico Montez.

Nico

A cool washcloth presses against my forehead.

I blink, my vision blurry as a ball of fury pounds its way through my brain. Groaning, I try to sit up only to lie back down.

Fuck. Friday nights are the worst.

Shutting my eyes again, I lean into the washcloth pressed against my hot skin, "Wes, you bastard. How many times do I have to tell you I'm not allowed to crowd surf anymore? I'm too old for that shit."

My voice is hoarse and my chest feels like it got trampled. No one must have been in a catching mood tonight.

"You"re too old for a lot of the shit you pull, Montez."

I blink, tilting my head to look up at the pale blue eyes watching me.

I scream.

Mo raises a brow, tossing the washcloth on my lap, "Do that again and I'll duct tape your mouth shut."

My mouth snaps shut and my panicked gaze skitters down to my bare chest.

Oh my God. I slept with our assistant coach.

I watch in horror as Mo crouches down to face me, "Do you remember what happened tonight?"

His gaze is calm and collected, the exact opposite of what I'm feeling. I glance around the room and spy bloodstained bandages covering an otherwise gorgeous apartment.

Is that a curved TV I see?

"I asked you a question." The brooding man regains my attention and I widen my eyes.

"Did we… fuck?"

The only change in his expression is the slight twitch of his upper lip. I narrow my eyes, daring him to laugh at me.

"No, we didn't fuck." Mo's deep voice sends a chill down my spine.

God, I love a good baritone.

"Did we reenact The Shining?"

A deep chuckle escapes his throat, and it's all the motivation I need to try and sit up again. A large hand pushes me back down.

"No, we didn't. You were beaten by a group of farmers at the gas station just outside of Taber." He delivers the news in a monotone, as if he's reporting facts instead of recalling a traumatic experience.

I frown, "Did someone call you?"

Mo shakes his head, "I found you."

"You found me?"

He nods, "Half-dead next to the gas pump. Not the most comfortable place to stop for a rest."

My mouth drops open, "Did you just tell a joke?"

A smirk tugs at his ridiculously full lips, "Very observant of you."

I raise my finger to flip him off only to catch sight of the torn skin hanging off my fingers. Memories come flooding back as I look down at my bare chest and notice the boot-shaped bruises.

My throat starts to close as I struggle to push myself into an upright position.

"I need to leave."

Mo sighs, making no move to help me, "You"re in no shape to leave this apartment. Stay here tonight and I'll drive you home in the morning."

"Thanks, but I'd rather not sleep on your couch."

I bite back a scream when my feet hit the floor. My body feels like it got run over by a freight train.

Or a group of homophobic rednecks.

Taking a shaky step forward, I collapse against Mo when my knees give out.

"Montez." Mo exhales, his strong arms the only reason I'm not a heap on the floor, "You've been through a lot tonight. You"re staying here. End of discussion."

"Always so bossy."

Ignoring me, he bends down and sweeps my legs out from under me, carefully lifting me off the ground. My head spins with the sudden movement, so I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on not puking all over my assistant coach.

"You should not be able to lift me this easily. We're the same height."

I can barely lift my head as Mo carries me from the room. He chuckles, and if I could move my body, I would put my hand on his throat to feel it.

"Different builds, Montez."

"Not everyone likes big, buff guys you know."

His scruff brushes my cheek as he gently lowers me onto the bed, "But you do."

"Hell yeah, I do." Sinking into the mattress, I watch the man who can't stand me carefully pull the comforter over me.

"Get some sleep, Montez."

"I'll do my best." I watch him walk across the room, his stride just as confident as the rest of him. He pauses at the door, and for a moment, I think he might say something else. My eyes start to close as Mo shakes his head and turns off the lights.

And for the second time tonight, I let the darkness take me.