Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

V innie slowly pulled around the Devil’s Garrote—a bar Ollie and Mason had banned him from after one tiny incident involving a fight—and followed a narrow road that went farther back, past where he assumed employees parked, and toward a large square-shaped building.

The parking lot was surprisingly full, considering it was only late afternoon. He didn’t see many motorcycles, probably because of the weather, but there were cars and trucks of every shape and model parked all around the large lot.

As he neared a tall chain-link fence that served as a gate, it slid open, even though he didn’t see anyone, but two oncoming headlights let him know someone was leaving. He pulled as close as he could to the edge to allow the large truck to move past him, but it slowed, the driver’s window rolling down.

Biting back a sigh, he lowered his own and peered up at the scowling face looking down at him.

“This is a private club. Bar’s back behind you.”

Vinnie put on his best “I’m here to save your life” smile he’d developed over years of working in healthcare. “I know! I’m a friend of Ollie’s.”

The guy’s frown immediately eased, and he nodded. “You’re here to help set up for the party?”

He had no idea what party the guy was talking to, but he quickly nodded, turning up the wattage on his smile. “Yup. He called in reinforcements.”

The guy snorted and shook his head. “Unsurprising. For whatever reason, he’s going all out for Tank’s birthday. Go ahead and head on in. Last I saw him, he was near the bar, directing Rooster and Houston on how incorrectly they were hanging a banner.”

That got a genuine smile out of Vinnie. Sounded exactly like his friend. Ollie could be incredibly kind and thoughtful but also bossy as hell . He’d only gotten to meet his boyfriend, Six, once, but the impression he had of the biker was that he could handle Ollie even at his most bratty. The fact that he was jealous was something he had kept to himself.

He carefully maneuvered his car into an empty spot and grabbed his scarf and gloves—which he’d refused on principle to put on when he’d been ordered to bundle up by that big, burly, sexy-as-sin man wearing nothing but dark jeans, a button-up shirt, and a leather jacket.

Vinnie shivered at the memory of how close he’d stood right before he’d left, caging him in and making him feel tiny and submissive. Things he hadn’t felt in a long time. Things he had no business feeling with some stranger on the side of the road who could have been an axe murderer. He shoved the man out of his head. Sexy, older Latinos weren’t on the menu for the day; Mason was.

He needed to figure out how to fix them, even if Mason didn’t want to. Because he’d realized as they’d gone into their second week apart he needed Mason, even if Mason no longer needed him.

And that was… terrifying.

It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to need someone. There had been no point after his parents had made it clear they weren’t welcome in their house any longer, kicking him and Mason to the curb and never speaking to them again.

As much as he loved Mason, he’d been the one who was needed, providing the stability that Mason had craved as he slingshot from one job to the next, one Dom to the next, and that’s the way he’d liked it.

But over the last couple of years, things had started to change without him noticing, at least not consciously, but in the back of his head, a part of him had known and had rebelled and then run scared. That same part of him had done its best to ruin the one friendship, the one relationship , he’d been able to count on for pretty much his whole life.

And even though it still scared him to know that, between the two of them, he needed Mason more than Mason needed him, pretending otherwise wasn’t an option anymore. Acting like he would be fine on his own also wasn’t an option anymore.

The last three weeks had shown him that.

Sure, he’d gone to work and come home and fed himself and bathed, but everything had felt empty, hollow in a way he’d never experienced. Without Mason’s spark of joy keeping him afloat, he’d begun to sink, falling into the depths of meaninglessness and slowly encroaching on despair. He knew it wasn’t fair to put all that on Mason, that he needed to make sure he gave as much as he took, that he fueled that spark, not just coveted it.

At the end of the day, he still needed to make sure Mason took him back. If he wanted to find a third for their relationship, then Vinnie would grit his teeth and agree. There wasn’t anything he could imagine not agreeing to to get Mason back at that point.

As he approached the door of the clubhouse, it burst open, and a group of white men in their forties came tumbling out. They were laughing at something, and Vinnie immediately bristled, wondering if they were laughing at Ollie and the care he was going to give his friend CJ’s husband a fantastic birthday party. When they saw him, they slowed.

The man in the front, with a graying beard and weathered skin, cocked his head. “You looking for someone?”

Vinnie lifted his chin. “Ollie.”

The three of them nodded, wide smiles spreading on their faces. “He’s inside,” the same guy said. “He just sent us to go and get…” He turned to one of the guys behind him. “What the fuck are we supposed to be gettin’ again?”

The man also had a beard, but it was thick and black, just like the long hair on his head. He had to be at least six five and heavyset. He was a sexy bear of a man, but—and Vinnie hated to admit it—he wasn’t drawn to him as much as the man who’d stopped to help him change his tire.

The bear pulled out his phone and read off, “Piping tips. Whatever the fuck that means.”

Vinnie’s eyes widened. “It takes three of you to go buy piping tips?”

The third man, who hadn’t said anything yet, laughed and shook his head. “No, I gotta get to work. These two jokers though, we’ll be lucky if they make it back before the party starts.”

Gray Beard swung an elbow back but missed as the tall, thin man laughed and jumped backward.

Vinnie could barely hold in his surprise. Where were the surly bikers angry about a queer twink invading their space and ordering them around?

“Try the baking section,” Vinnie offered, and they all focused on him.

Dark Beard ran his eyes over Vinnie’s body, subtly but with clear interest. “You wanna ditch setting up and come help us?”

Vinnie pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I should really get inside. The piping tips are for squeezing frosting out of a plastic bag and onto cakes and cupcakes in a specific pattern. They’re usually metal.”

The guy who was going to work nodded hurriedly. “I wonder if Emmett has some. He’s supposed to be coming when he gets off work, right?”

Gray Beard already had his phone out. “He definitely does. Remember those cookies he made last week?”

The other two guys both groaned appreciatively.

“I’m so pissed I only got one,” the skinny guy said, heading off toward a vehicle. “Maybe suggest he make more sometime soon.”

The other two chuckled and started moving in the opposite direction. The man with the dark beard glanced back at Vinnie and smiled, giving him a quick wink and then hurrying after his friend.

Vinnie shook his head at their antics and pulled open the door to the clubhouse. Inside, the large open space was full of light and bustling with activity. Several men were moving around furniture. Others were blowing up balloons and tying strings to them. A woman with short hair dyed a vibrant purple barked orders at a couple of younger people who were setting out plates, cups, cutlery, and large dishes that would be filled with food later.

And just like the man in the truck had said, Ollie and another young man Vinnie recognized from their video chats stood near the back, heads tipped up as they looked at a crooked banner being hung by a large Black man and a white guy with long hair pulled up into a messy bun. He knew from some of his conversations with Ollie the dark-skinned man was Houston, which made the other guy Rooster.

He slowly approached, looking all around the room to try and pinpoint Mason but not seeing him. He wasn’t sure where he could be. There was no way he’d be hiding out in his room upstairs while there was a party being set up by one of their best friends down here.

Then again, he’d barely talked to Mason the last couple of weeks, the two of them doing nothing more than exchanging a handful of text messages, not FaceTiming or talking on the phone after that first disastrous time. Maybe Mason was on a date, or he’d moved out, or he was getting dicked down by a biker somewhere in the clubhouse.

It wasn’t that Vinnie didn’t want Mason to have fun and all the sex he wanted, but they’d had an agreement since they were twenty and had decided they would be more than just best friends who slept in the same bed and sometimes had sex. While they looked for someone who could give them the things they wanted but couldn’t give each other, they weren’t supposed to hook up with anyone without letting the other person know.

If it was someone they had real feelings for, there was supposed to be a lengthier conversation first, but Vinnie didn’t know if those rules applied anymore. Mason had left him, after all. Maybe he had left their relationship as well and felt like he could fuck anyone he wanted, and it wasn’t Vinnie’s business.

“Rooster, you have to go higher on your side. Houston, stop fucking moving your end,” Ollie called out, exasperated.

The two men chuckled, and a second later, the banner was miraculously exactly level.

Ollie planted his hands on his slim hips and stomped one of his boot-covered feet. “Were you two fucking with me? Do I look like I’m in the mood to be fucked with right now?”

CJ clapped a hand over his mouth, but it didn’t stop the sound of his laughter from escaping.

Ollie turned on his friend. “Et tu?”

CJ waved his free hand before speaking against his fingers in a muffled voice. “No, no, you’re right. This is very serious business.”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Ollie spun on his heel, no doubt intent on storming away to go bully someone else into doing what he wanted, but he screeched to a halt when he saw Vinnie standing five feet behind him.

“Hey, Ollie.”

“Vinnie, what the hell are you doing here?”

CJ turned and stared at him, his jaw slackened. “Holy shit,” he whispered as the two men hanging the banner descended from where they’d been standing on the bar top.

“Everything okay?” Houston said as he eyed Vinnie.

Ollie shook off his surprise, darted forward, and wrapped Vinnie in a tight hug. “I fucking hope so,” he muttered. When they separated, he gave Vinnie a slight shove. “You’re here to fix things, right?”

Vinnie nodded. “I am.”

“Glad you finally got your head out of your ass.”

“Boy, I know you aren’t the one I’ve been hearing cussing from across the room,” a low, growly voice said.

Six came up behind Vinnie. He upnodded Vinnie as he glanced over, seeming completely unsurprised at his appearance. The large biker threaded his fingers into Ollie’s hair and gripped tightly, tipping his head back. “Do I need to take you upstairs for a time-out?”

Ollie licked his lips, and the temperature in the room shot up ten degrees. Vinnie was no prude, but watching the two of them felt incredibly intimate. He glanced around and saw that Rooster and Houston had moved on, ignoring the two of them, and CJ was rolling his eyes.

When his gaze connected with Vinnie’s, he moved forward and held out a hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“You too,” Vinnie said, giving him a quick shake. He ignored the soft gasp he heard from Ollie, keeping his attention on CJ. “Is Mason around? I was hoping to talk to him.”

CJ didn’t say anything for a moment, his friendly smile staying perfectly in place. Vinnie got the very distinct impression he was being evaluated. He couldn’t even be offended. He knew Mason was incredibly easy to like and care about, so the fact CJ was trying to decide whether he was worthy of knowing where Mason was made him feel a little bit better about their time away from each other.

Though he couldn’t also help but wish he had that for himself. Too bad his personality didn’t tend to make fast friends like Mason’s did.

Before CJ could decide on telling him or not, Ollie popped up next to him, a flush in his cheekbones and hair a little mussed. “He had to go and get more helium for the balloons. He should be back in about half an hour.”

While he was a little disappointed at missing him, a larger part of him was grateful for the reprieve, which made him feel like a shitty person. He’d had nearly three weeks to figure out what to say; he shouldn’t need another thirty minutes.

He pulled his scarf out from under the collar of his coat and shoved it in his pocket before unzipping his jacket. “Is there somewhere I can wait? After I talk to him, I can leave. I understand if you’d rather I not?—”

Before he could finish, Ollie cut him off. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course I want you here. I didn’t want you to go in the first place.”

That was true. Ollie had tried to hide how upset he’d been, but hiding his feelings wasn’t exactly a strong suit of his, and it hadn’t taken long before he’d broken down and asked him and Mason to stay.

And then the entire year they were gone, Ollie had gone out of his way to stay connected to them, to let them know he couldn’t wait for them to come back home. It was unfair of Vinnie to assume that just because he and Mason were fighting, that meant Ollie didn’t want to be friends with him anymore or want him around.

“You’re right, sorry. Everything’s just weird right now.”

“Yeah, but you’re gonna make it better,” Ollie said, making it clear it wasn’t really a suggestion. “But until then…”

“How many cupcakes are we making?” Vinnie asked, swiping at his forehead as he set down the tray of another dozen.

A ridiculously good-looking white man—named Knuckles, of all things—looked up from the list he had been checking. “About a hundred, but I’m wondering if we should do a few dozen more. Better to have too much than run out, don’t you think?”

Vinnie eyed the state of the kitchen. The clubhouse had a full-on, industrial-style kitchen in the very back of the huge building, equipped with a massive stovetop range, multiple ovens, and two double fridges. Instead of allowing him to go and sulk somewhere as he waited to talk to Mason, Ollie had put him to work, helping Knuckles bake the cupcakes for the party, promising him that Emmett would be there as soon as he got off work to help them frost and decorate.

He’d been back there nearly an hour, but Mason hadn’t come in.

He couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d come back but had decided he didn’t want to talk to Vinnie. Then again, there was just as good a chance that Ollie wanted him to keep working and so hadn’t told Mason he was here.

“What are we at?” Vinnie said as he went over to one of the two stand mixers on the counter. He removed the bowl and brought it over to the prepped tins with papers in them, ready for batter to be scooped into them.

“That will make six dozen,” Knuckles said, pointing to the cupcake tin Vinnie was filling.

Vinnie looked up at the ceiling as he figured out how many that was. “Okay, do we have time to do another four or five dozen?”

Knuckles shrugged. “Probably. The party doesn’t technically start until nine, so I think they’re going to put food out around eight.”

Nine o’clock seemed late to start a birthday party to him, but he didn’t say that.

It must have been clear on his face, though, because when Knuckles glanced at him, he chuckled and said, “There were a few people who had to work. To make it as easy as possible for as many people as possible, Ollie set the time for nine.”

“I’m guessing this isn’t going to be like a… traditional birthday party,” Vinnie said, keeping his attention on the paper cups he was filling with the chocolate batter.

Knuckles snorted and took the other mixing bowl to the sink to give it a wash so he could start up the next batch. “You could say that again. Lately, all of the parties around here have gotten pretty wild.”

“So I’ve heard,” Vinnie said neutrally.

Neither one of them said anything for a few minutes, the only sounds Knuckles scrubbing and the soft country music he’d had playing since before Vinnie arrived.

“If you’re not comfortable with it, you don’t have to stay,” Knuckles finally offered. “I don’t usually.”

Vinnie looked up at him, but Knuckles wasn’t paying him any attention, working extra hard to scrub clean the metal bowl and whisk. “I appreciate you saying that,” he offered. “I’m not new to kink, but I don’t know most of these people, so it probably would be a little weird for me to stay if things got too wild.”

If he hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t have seen the way Knuckles’s shoulders relaxed at his easy words. He wondered if the biker had expected Vinnie to question him or maybe tease him for not hanging out with the rest of the club as they leaned into their hedonistic ways. But Vinnie understood not everyone liked the public aspect of being in the scene, and it was valid. While people like Mason and Ollie adored the attention and were turned on by being watched by others, Vinnie didn’t feel that way, and maybe Knuckles didn’t either.

The things he wanted, the things he craved, were private to him. He never really had any interest in doing them publicly. Whenever a partner in the past had asked, he usually said yes but didn’t get as much enjoyment or pleasure out of the scenes as he did when they were done behind a closed door. The insistence on doing scenes publicly had ended multiple relationships with potential Doms.

“So, what’s the craziest tattoo you’ve ever done?” Vinnie asked, hoping the change of subject would help loosen Knuckles up again. He’d been incredibly funny and appreciative of his help from the moment Ollie shoved him in the kitchen, and Vinnie wanted to make sure he knew that his preferences really didn’t bother him.

Knuckles laughed. “How much time do you have?”

Vinnie smiled, finished filling the second tray, and opened the oven door. “Well, apparently, we’re going to be here for a while, finishing up all these damn cupcakes.”

“Okay, so this one time,” Knuckles started, but the door that led out to the main area of the clubhouse swung open, and there was Mason, eyes wide and jacket still zipped up to his throat. He had a plastic shopping bag clutched in one of his hands.

“Vin?”

Vinnie closed the oven door and glanced at Knuckles, who was smiling at him understandingly. “I’ll be back to help finish—and for some of those stories.”

Knuckles nodded, drying off the bowl he’d just cleaned. “I’ll be here.”

Vinnie moved across the kitchen, closing the gap between him and Mason. “Hey, Mase. How are you?”

“When did you… I can’t believe you’re here.”

Shrugging, he shoved his hands into his pockets, wanting to pull Mason into a hug but unsure if it’d be welcomed. “My last day was Wednesday, but I had most of the apartment packed up beforehand, so I left yesterday morning. I stopped around Columbus last night and then got here earlier today. I would have been here a little earlier, but I had a little car trouble.”

Mason took an unsteady step toward him, fingers reaching out and snagging Vinnie’s shirt, his knuckles brushing against his abs. “What kinda car trouble?”

“Just a flat,” Vinnie said, averting his eyes when he inevitably thought about his sexy Good Samaritan.

“What was that?” Mason asked softly.

Vinnie shook his head. “I’ll tell you later. Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Yeah, we should be able to?—”

There was a loud commotion from out in the main area. They exchanged a glance and then darted out of the kitchen doorway, trying to see what was causing the ruckus. It took Vinnie a moment to pinpoint what the source was because most of the people in the room had crowded around the entrance, blocking his view. And then, like a parting sea, a gap appeared between some of the bikers, and there he was, the man who’d stopped to check on him and then stayed to help even after Vinnie had been less than gracious.

But he didn’t look the same as he had a few hours ago.

Blood droplets stained his white button-up at the collar and a few spots over his left pec. He held an ice pack to his eye, his bottom lip visibly swollen from all the way across the room.

Vinnie was moving before he realized it, Mason keeping pace with him at first but then falling behind as Vinnie picked up his stride, practically running across the clubhouse.

Just as he shoved his way forward, the man looked up, and their eyes connected. Like the first time he’d seen him, Vinnie had a visceral reaction, his gut filling with butterflies and his chest going a little tight. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of him, barely noticing as the people around them quieted down and stared.

Carefully, he removed the ice pack, a bolt of lightning shooting down his arm when his hand covered his Good Samaritan’s and used his hold on it to get a better view of the battered skin beneath.

His left eye was purple and swollen, with another bruise forming on his cheekbone. There was a small cut slicing through his eyebrow, and it was still weeping blood. Behind his salt-and-pepper beard, his bottom lip was puffy and split.

Someone had hit him. Repeatedly. They’d battered his beautiful face.

Anger coursed through Vinnie, lighting up his veins and making his hands shake. “Who did this to you?”