Page 47 of Agony

“No.” Fisher didn’t feel like doing anything. Plus, he was still drunk, which was the reason he hadn’t tried standing yet. He needed to push through and get his ass up.

Rogue’s lids narrowed and his lips pressed flat. “How long are you going to keep drinking and avoiding this?”

“As long as I fucking want. Why? You going to kick me out now?”

“You can stay as long as you need to. You know that.” Rogue walked into the small kitchen and started a pot of coffee before turning around to gaze at him over the open bar.

Fisher gave his friend a grimace. “I need a shower.” With that said, he finally made it to his feet and disappeared down the hallway.

He didn’t want to talk about anything anymore.

He just needed to fucking forget the little he had remembered.

Forget that he’d been on the verge of trusting.

Forget Justice.

Forget his fucked-up past.

And most of all, he had to remember that he wasn’t normal so how could he have ever thought he could have a normal life?

Hours later that night, the pulsing beat of the club thrummed through his numbing brain.

Fisher stumbled over to snag the drink from a nearby standing table next to the club’s dance floor. The man and two women he’d been dancing with crowded in around him and grabbed their own drinks.

When their glasses lifted high, Fisher knocked his against theirs and tossed down what was left in the glass. The whiskey had long ago lost its burn. Now he chased it for the effect.

One of the women grabbed his arm and pulled and he willingly followed her gyrating hips encased in a black mini skirt. The tight, black mesh top outlined her tits in a pushup bra. She wore black stilettos that put her above his height and her red hair was a fiery wave tossed about her heavily made-up face.

Fisher shook back his long hair. He’d lost his hair tie hours ago. The other woman, a big busted blonde with a charming smile wearing a tight blue dress danced closer. With a laugh, she tugged at his hair.

“I love your hair.” She had to get close enough to shout the words.

He grabbed her around the waist and whirled farther into the crush of dancing bodies, pulling the redhead along with them. They were followed by the other man. Fisher didn’t know their names. He didn’t want to know who they were. All he wanted was what they offered.

With an arm around each woman’s waist, he bumped and gyrated to the beat. The man danced forward, coming close enough for Fisher to feel the heat coming from the guy’s shirtless chest.

There beneath the spinning lights, the man worked open the buttons on Fisher’s shirt. Fisher didn’t bother glancing down at his chest, he knew the scars that were there and had long since given up giving a fuck.

This was who he was, scars and all.

Rather than push the shirt from his shoulders, the guy gave a sexy smile and left it hanging open. Both girls stroked their hands inside of Fisher’s shirt and also over the other man’s bare chest.

The crowd roared when the music changed into the grinding beat of Sam Smith’s Desire.

Fisher dropped his head back and closed his eyes.

And escaped for a while.

Justice couldn’t take his eyes off Fisher. Long black hair fell to the top of the man’s ass when his head fell back. The column of his throat lay exposed and those bright blue eyes were closed.

Somehow, a friend of a friend had found out that Fisher was at this club tonight. It was too much of a coincidence and Justice suspected that Rogue might have had a hand in him getting the information. That didn’t mean he didn’t need to stop watching his back. There would be a reckoning day with Rogue, of that Justice had no doubt.

Whatever the case may be, he didn’t give a fuck. All he knew was that he wasn’t leaving this club without Fisher.

Or at the very least, talking with the guy. That Fisher was inebriated might be in his favor. First, it would make physically handling Fisher easier and second, booze did tend to trigger the truth to words.

He thought about tossing back a few drinks before joining Fisher on the dance floor, but he needed a clear head.

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