Page 43 of His Middle

“I promise. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

“Daddy! Can we have soda with dinner?”

Sawyer pushed up from the lounge chair, bringing his phone and empty glass with him.

“Hold on, I’ll be right there.”

His grin wouldn’t go away anytime soon. His mom was right. His feelings for Noah were stronger than any he’d had for a man since he could remember.

Serious indeed.

Chapter Fourteen

Noah grunted as he hefted two large garbage bags from the kitchen over his shoulder and made his way out the door that led to the alley. Man, what a long day and grueling night. Friday’s were typically busy, but this had been out of control. Sawyer had ended up calling in a couple staff to help give the floor more coverage. Noah had even jumped in to help in the kitchen while Sawyer had given the new bar guy a hand.

He smiled to himself. But things were going great.Allthe things. With Sawyer by his side, the club no longer seemed like a vicious beast trying to eat him alive.

Noah reached the club dumpster and dropped the bags on the ground so he could dig in his pocket for the key to open the padlock.Dammit. It wasn’t in either of his front pockets, so he shoved his hand in the back ones. He growled. He must’ve left it on the table by the back door when he’d been tying up the bags.

He rolled his eyes at himself then turned to march back into the kitchen to retrieve the key. All he wanted to do was finish up his tasks so he and Sawyer could get the fuck out of there. Daddy had promised him a blow job if he ate all his carrots at lunch and gave up his daily soda. These were true sacrifices and he intended to reap his reward for a job well done.

“Are you Noah, the club’s owner?”

Noah whirled around, the voice coming out of the darkness almost making him trip over his feet.

“Who’s there?”

“Come on, Noah. I know it’s you. I just wanna talk about your buddy Jonathan. It’ll only take a minute.”

Since he had no fucking clue who was speaking, he turned back around, bolting for the back door.

Fuck!

The crate he’d used to prop it open wasn’t there anymore. Whoever was talking to him must’ve moved it. He launched himself at the door anyway, ready to bang the shit out of it to get some help.

A hand landed on his shoulder, almost knocking him down, but whoever had grabbed him hung on with a strength Noah doubted he could fight against.

“Not so fast, asshole. I’m not leaving here without my fucking money and I’m not giving you the chance to do something stupid like call the cops.”

Noah stopped short, turning around, finally able to see who was menacing him. He didn’t recognize the tall, bulky man who was built like a linebacker. However, his bulbous nose and gravelly voice indicated that he and copious amounts of booze were probably bosom buddies.

It didn’t seem plausible, but perhaps this guy was merely a vendor that Jonathan hadn’t paid? Noah had dealt with a few pissed off ones, but this seemed a bit extreme. Even the paper supplies dude hadn’t come across so early nineteen fifties mafioso.

“Look, there must be a misunderstanding.” Noah tried to conjure up all the cool and calm sentences he’d heard Sawyer utter when he would step int to smooth over Noah’s faux pas. “I’m sure we can find a way to come to an agreement.”

“Yeah. We can. Give me my fucking money and I won’t have to cut off your fingers one by one then mail them to your buddy Jonathan until he coughs it up.” The guy sneered. “Or is he your boyfriend? That’s a real prick right there, leaves his little boy toy to take the fall.”

Noah trembled. What the actual fuck had Jonathan gone and done? If his dad were still alive, he’d kick the ex-manager’s ass.

“See? Already we’ve reached an agreement. You’re absolutely correct. Jonathan’s a total prick. What he’snot, however, is my boyfriend.” Noah fought to keep his composure, but also hoped he could stall long enough for Sawyer to figure out he wasn’t in the club, or for the cook to wonder why he hadn’t come back inside. “And, and…I want to make right whatever asshole stunt he’s pulled, but I need more facts. Maybe we could sit down in the office and discuss—”

Noah’s head jerked to the side from the force of the backhanded slap. The guy fisted Noah’s shirt, shaking him as if he were a rag doll.

“Listen, you piece of shit. I’m not interested in discussions. I’m interested in cash. My guess is that it’s either stashed in a safe in the office or Jonathan has it hidden. Either way,you’regoing to get it for me.”

Any composure Noah thought he possessed had long since vanished. This guy was deadly serious, with an emphasis on the deadly.

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