Chapter Twenty-Nine

Fighter watched Brick as his long strides brought him closer and he felt real fear.

Would Brick end it between them?

He couldn’t even fathom what his world would look like without Brick in it. Would Brick let him explain? All he could do was hope like he’d never hoped before.

Squeezing his hands together, he stared at Brick. When he felt a sting in his eyes, he blinked away the moisture. This was no time for a pity party.

“Fighter,” Brick said when he stopped several feet away from them.

“Yes?” His voice wobbled and the crowd around them lowered their voices in order to hear.

“Come here,” Brick said, his voice a low, sexy order that melted Fighter’s insides.

Didn’t Brick know he couldn’t? The man was usually more astute than this.

He literally couldn’t go to Brick right now. Not only did Cook hold the huge debt over his head, but the asshole had earlier threatened the children.

“I can’t,” he whispered, his voice shaking, and Cook gripped his arm tightly. He flinched at the man’s touch, but didn’t pull away.

“You can, baby, come here,” Brick murmured, lifting his hand, then rubbing a thumb over the face of…his grandfather’s watch.

A soft sob escaped Fighter and his face heated when tears sprang to the surface. Thankfully, they didn’t fall down his cheeks, but Brick became a blur. Fighter tipped his face up to the ceiling and blinked. When he gazed at those gray eyes again, Brick smiled.

Was there ever a time he’d felt more loved? He couldn’t for the life of him remember and he thought not. Maybe when his grandfather had been alive, he’d felt the love a person could give a grandchild. His previous relationships were nothing to speak of…they paled in the face of his feelings for Brick.

“It’s okay, just walk toward me. And trust me.” Brick’s voice was so soft and deep.

Fighter could never imagine his life without Tyler Brick III. He tried to step forward, but Cook squeezed his arm. He shook at Cook’s grip, but the man seemed to be holding onto him with some sort of desperation.

“Let go.”

“Remember,” Cook hissed, the threat very real in the man’s whispered word.

Syn addressed his cousin. “It would be in your best interest to let him go.”

“Or lose your hand,” Wyatt said flatly from his spot next to Syn.

Nobody said a word, even the music faded into the background. It took a moment for Fighter to realize the power behind the Brick family. People wore angry faces, and every single one was aimed at Cook. It was like they were in some type of ancient court and Brick and Syn were the princes. No, Brick had to be the king and Syn the prince.

They were royalty. It was apparent by the way no one cared that they argued or made a scene in the middle of a party.

Cook dropped his hand as if scorched.

Fighter walked to Brick, but stopped a few feet away. The man didn’t let him stop there. Brick pulled him into a tight hug, closing his arms around him and holding him safe. Fighter let out a ragged breath.

“He threatened the kids,” he whispered against Brick’s neck.

To Brick’s credit, he didn’t go rigid like Fighter thought he would. He supposed it was because of where they were.

Brick released him and curled an arm around his shoulder, keeping him close. Fighter glanced up and found the man’s cold gray eyes locked on his cousin. There was a deadly promise in Brick’s eyes that sent a shiver moving through Fighter’s body. Brick moved his eyes from Cook to him and then pressed the watch into his hand.

Fighter closed his hand around his grandfather’s watch and clenched his jaw to keep from losing it.

Allen Cook didn’t move or run like Fighter thought he would and that was when he realized the man wouldn’t run. He was staying where there was a crowd of people.

Safety in numbers. But he did at least have the good sense to disappear from their sight.

“Are you okay?” Brick murmured against his ear as he steered Fighter away from the group of gawkers. Dealing with his cousin would need to wait, but there was no doubt that Allen would pay and pay dearly. Now, though, Fighter was his main concern.

“Yes, I need to call Bishop,” Fighter said.

“I already did. The kids are still sleeping.”

Relief washed over Fighter’s face and Brick held him close.

“Feel like a drink?”

“I do.” Fighter had come with the intention of not drinking so Cook wouldn’t take advantage of the situation, but with Brick by his side it was a whole different story. “Bar?”

“We are long overdue for another drink at the bar.” Amusement filled Brick’s deep voice and Fighter found himself smiling.

“We need a redo,” Fighter said when they reached the bar.

“I’m only glad you’ve given me another chance.” Brick slipped his arm around his waist and pulled him closer while ordering two whiskeys over ice.

Fighter leaned into the man’s big muscled frame and when the drink came, he took a slow swallow.

“You still haven’t been forgiven for leaving me in jail three days,” Fighter teased even though he’d long ago put that aside.

“I was out of it in the hospital,” Brick argued. “Plus, I went to the DA’s office the moment I left the hospital and got the charges dropped.”

“Wait…” Fighter squinted. “You did that?”

“Got the charges dropped.” Brick nodded. “Why?”

“Because my lawyer took credit for that.”

Brick laughed. “You need a new lawyer.”

“No shit.”

They shared a smile and sipped at their drinks, but Fighter was kind of pissed at Carl Withers.

“So…Whatcha doin?” Spencer came up to the bar. Liam stood behind him.

“Drinking.” Brick chuckled and turned to the two men, still holding him close. “Fighter, let me introduce you to retired Colonel Liam Cobalt and his husband Captain Spencer Turner-Cobalt.”

“Just Spencer and Liam,” Spencer said with a grin and both men shook Fighter’s hand.

“There’s a private party upstairs that some of the guests are attending. Piano music and dancing. Want to join us?” Liam asked, draping his arm around Spencer’s shoulders.

Spencer was gorgeous. The man looked like a rock star with crystal blue eyes, black hair, muscles, and tattoos. Liam was as equally handsome with green eyes, short brown hair sprinkled with gray, and a tall, powerful build. It was apparent that both men adored each other by the way they constantly touched a hand here or a shoulder there. At one point, Liam curled the hair back and around Spencer’s ear.

“What about the kids? You were supposed to relieve Bishop,” Fighter said, gazing up at Brick.

“I’ll have Syn and Wyatt go over.”

Fighter bit his bottom lip. “I don’t know if that’s wise…”

Brick tipped his head as if thinking and then his eyes widened. “Probably not.” Brick pulled out his phone and called Bishop.

Listening openly, Fighter smiled when Brick begged for a few more hours and assured Bishop that yes, he had saved Fighter from the big bad bully. Brick hung up, looking pleased with himself.

“We’d love to,” Fighter said, turning back to Spencer and Liam with a smile.

Between Brick, Liam, Spencer, and Syn, he was pulled into the world of the rich and famous when he entered the upstairs party room.

So yeah, Fighter found himself gawking, laughing, and maybe drinking a bit too much, but could life be any better?