Chapter Six

“Why’d you even go down there?” Bishop scowled at him and Fighter glanced away.

“I just wanted to punch him in the mouth. He’s been a dick since the charity event,” Fighter said, and fuck if he knew why. He turned to look at the street through the dirty glass window. Outside, the wind blew trash across the road and a homeless man pushed a cart filled with his treasures.

Brick had to have known how much he needed that job. He’d dropped the bid so low that he feared taking a loss. That Tyler Brick III had come in and underbid him by several hundred dollars pissed him the fuck off. And made him sick to his stomach.

Asshole.

“What now?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Fighter muttered and rubbed a hand down his face.

The team had been sitting home for a week while he scrambled trying to find them work.

“Why’d we undercut their bid again?”

Brick shrugged at Jaxon’s question. “They’re our competition,” he said after a moment.

Jaxon sat behind a desk in the bullpen area and Brick leaned back in a nearby office chair.

“You trying to run them out of business?” Jaxon frowned tapping at the keys.

“They’ll be fine,” Brick scoffed.

“Um…have you ever looked into his finances?” Jaxon scratched at his beard, gazing at the screen.

“No, why would I?” Brick shifted and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles, and fiddled with the watch on his wrist.

“I’m just saying it might be worth check—”

“Honey!” Hayden’s voice traveled across the large room, interrupting.

Jaxon’s face lit up like it was fucking Christmas. Brick could only chuckle when Hayden dumped his heavy jacket on a desk before flying across the bullpen to launch into Jaxon’s outstretched arms.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Jaxon said amidst the shower of kisses to his face.

“Get a room,” Brick grumbled with teasing envy.

“Why? Tired of dealing with normal people?” Hayden said—ever the smart ass—and batted his eyelashes.

Lifting his middle finger, Brick declined to answer.

“I heard you locked up Fighter.” Hayden spun in Jaxon’s arms and glared at Brick.

“I didn’t lock him up,” Brick snapped, throwing up his hands.

“It was a misunderstanding, baby.” Jaxon nuzzled into Hayden’s temple before he dropped back into his chair.

“And since when are you friends with Fighter Suwan?” Brick scowled.

“Wyatt met him through Bishop. And I met Fighter through Wyatt.” Hayden waved a hand to where his brother sat at a desk not too far away. “I told you all this.”

“When?” Brick gave Hayden a skeptical look.

“After you got stabbed.” Hayden rolled his eyes annoyed. “You never listen.”

“In his defense, he was in pain that night at the hospital,” Jaxon soothed Hayden.

“Fighter lived next door to Bishop growing up,” Hayden said patiently.

Brick shifted in his chair and the expensive leather creaked gently beneath him.

Hayden shot him a smug look. “I think Wyatt is a bit sweet on Fighter.”

What the hell?

“Fighter is way younger than Wyatt.”

“He is not!” Hayden smacked Brick on the arm.

“Okay!” Brick growled back rubbing at the spot. It was true, Fighter was thirty-three and Wyatt was only five years older.

“Easy, baby.” Jaxon tugged on Hayden.

Hayden dropped down to sit in Jaxon’s lap—yeah, like that was professional—but the pair were clingy like that.

“What are Fighter’s finances like?” Brick asked.

Hayden tipped his head a bit, staring at him with hard, bright eyes. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just tell me,” Brick grumbled.

“No. And you shouldn’t be mean to him,” Hayden said, chin tipped.

“Seriously?” Brick gaped at Hayden. “The guy’s an asshole.”

“No, he’s not. Fighter was just a scrawny, scared kid growing up.” Hayden waved his hands about. “Bishop walked Fighter to middle school on his way to high school every day to keep the bullies away.”

“Who are we talking about?” Syn asked, coming from the hallway with a sandwich in hand and a mouth full of food.

“Fighter,” Jaxon offered when Syn took a seat in one of the vacant chairs at the desk they were gathered around.

Hayden’s smile stretched thinly as he glared at Brick. “You better play nice with Fighter.”

“He stabbed me,” Brick reminded him and placed a hand over his side. He couldn’t feel any of the heat coming from beneath the bandage, but it still throbbed.

His anger and irritation went deeper than a knife wound. He was sick and tired of potential dates seeing nothing but dollar signs when they met him.

Of course, the men gathered around knew that he and Syn were wealthy. They’d taken a moment a month ago to tell those they were closest to in Cobalt Security about their family money. Along with asking them not to disclose the information.

Up to that point, Syn had kept his mouth shut on Brick’s orders because they had both dealt with family, lovers, and friends that grew dollar signs in their eyes after finding out about their money.

All that had ended when both he and Syn had sat the group down and spilled their secret.

Syn bumped his shoulder, gaining his attention, and Brick knew it was his brother’s way of letting him know he had his back. Neither of them could trust anyone when it came to love and friendship, but they trusted the people within these walls.

Most of the time, money made monsters out of people. Why it hadn’t with them was probably because of their upbringing. They’d both inherited their father’s strong ethics and moral code and their grandmother was fierce yet kind.

“I know he stabbed you and I’m sorry for that.” Contrition filled Hayden’s blue eyes.

“Why are you sorry, you weren’t even there?” Brick pointed out, lifting his coffee cup to take a sip of the now cold brew.

“Shut up and take the apology because I doubt Fighter will give you one in the next century.”

“I’ll wait,” Brick said flatly, rubbing his chin. He’d make damned sure that he’d meet Fighter in the not-too-distant future. Come hell or high water, they would settle whatever the fuck this was between them.

And then go their separate ways.

“Seriously, Brick,” Wyatt said, dropping into a chair he rolled closer. “Fighter’s had a rough enough life.”

Brick squinted. “And that’s my fucking problem how?”

“Bishop knew him growing up. Fighter’s dad was a martial arts master.” Wyatt crossed his arms.

“Tell me something I didn’t know,” Brick said, bored.

“The fucker abused him. Bishop told me that Fighter came to school covered in bruises beneath his clothes.”

Brick shifted. “How the hell would Bishop know what was under his clothes?”

Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Fuck you. It’s not what you think, they’re friends.”

Right. Brick glanced away and then back.

“That motherfucker didn’t let a day go by without teaching Fighter his skills.” Wyatt used air quotes when he said skills. “He used it as an excuse to beat him.”

“Bishop saw it one day. The guy kept knocking Fighter down and if Fighter didn’t get up fast enough, he got punched and kicked until he did,” Hayden added.

Wyatt nodded. “He was probably ten at the time.”

“Why the fuck didn’t anyone report that shit?”

“I don’t know. Bishop suspected that Suwan senior had connections because of his status.” Wyatt stood and perched a hip on the next desk over from them.

“Best day of Fighter’s life was when that son of a bitch was killed in a bar fight,” Wyatt added after a moment.

“Live by violence, die by it,” Hayden added.

“Not that it stops his mother.” Wyatt and Hayden exchanged glances.

Brick made a face and rubbed at his chest. “Stop with the fucking sob stories. I got him out of jail,” Brick reminded them. “Besides, I was on to him the first time we met.”

“On to him about what?” Wyatt looked confused.

“Never mind,” Brick said with a tired sigh. He’d talked enough. If Wyatt wanted to know what he’d just told the others, then someone else could fill the guy in.

“Okay, okay,” Jaxon cut in. “That’s enough. I’m giving the order. Stay away from Suwan Guardians.”

Everyone nodded except Brick, who only flattened his lips when Jaxon leveled his eyes on him.

“I mean it, Brick.”

“I know you do,” Brick said flatly and Jaxon scowled.