Page 49 of Agony

Justice giving his dance companions death glares until they finally disappeared. A punch to Justice’s face, delivered by him. Well, that at least made him feel better. But remembering the lip lock that followed out in the parking lot turned his jaw to granite.

Because he’d been three sheets to the wind, there was zero recollection of the drive to Justice’s house nor did he remember how he had become almost naked in the man’s bed.

Had they fucked last night?

Easing out of the bed, he assessed his body. No, they hadn’t fucked, he was sure.

Fisher spotted his clothes hanging over a chair. The thought of pulling on the smelly clothing wrinkled his nose. Instead, he stalked into the washroom and stepped beneath the water before it was even warm. Soaping up quickly, he rinsed and started on his hair. Ten minutes later, he dried off and reentered the bedroom wearing a towel around his hair and his waist.

He found Justice awake, sitting up and resting against the headboard, with the sheet pulled up to his waist.

Fisher pasted on a glare and marched to the closet with those hooded blue eyes following him. He yanked a gray t-shirt from the man’s closet and grabbed a freshly laundered pair of black sweatpants.

Everything was miles too big, but he cinched the drawstring tight. Jerking on the t-shirt, he returned to the bedroom and stalked over to the chair to sit down and put on his shoes.

“Fisher…” Justice murmured.

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Fisher growled, cutting off the stumbling apology.

Hell, at this point, he didn’t even know what the fuck Justice was sorry about.

“I just needed you safe…”

“Safe?” He sounded incredibly outraged, but couldn’t help it.

“Yeah. I needed you to stay out of it.”

Stay out of what, he wanted to shout.

Angry all over again and not knowing why made fury rush through his body.

“You know what, Justice? Fuck you.” He gave the man a scathing look and walked from the room.

He fully expected Justice to follow him, but he was able to leave the house on his own. Once outside, he walked to the closed gate. He waited, but it didn’t open.

Fuck this. Anger lent him speed. There wasn’t much on earth he couldn’t scale and nothing could contain him.

Except for a cage.

Other than that, he was a master at getting out of a jam.

Glancing back toward the house, Fisher spotted Justice at the front door wearing only a pair of unbuttoned blue jeans around his hips. The man held a clicker in his hand.

The gate started to roll open but it was slow as fuck. The wheels beneath the gate moved painstakingly slow, grinding over the concrete.

Their gazes locked and held across the distance.

He was still too angry.

He wanted to strangle Justice with his bare hands.

Fuck the gate.

Spinning around, he sprinted toward the cement wall that butted against the left side of the exit.

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