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Hearing the roar of the crowd outside the locker room, Travis was tempted to take a peek. He could turn the TV on. The local station was covering the fight. Travis put his fisted hands over his lap and breathed in and out.
No. He didn’t watch fights.
Which round was Preacher on? Third? Fourth? Travis didn’t keep count. Before Preacher left for the ring, he sure dropped a bomb on Travis. Amazing news. After this, they could sit down and talk about their future. Travis wouldn’t stop Preacher if he still wanted to fight but he had the sense that quitting had been on Preacher’s mind for a long time now.
Privately, Travis was glad. Kurt stopped fighting because he injured his left shoulder years ago. Travis didn’t want to see the two most important men in his life get hurt over time. The announcer was talking again. The crowd was cheering. Who won?
Travis ran to the door. Screw it. For once he wasn’t going to sit idly by and wait for the outcome. He wanted to see Preacher.
The door swung open and his heart leaped, expecting to see Preacher with that familiar cocky grin on his face. Travis halted. It wasn’t Preacher. It was the last person on earth he wanted to see. With his carefully arranged gold hair and his ten thousand dollar suit, Miles Richards looked out of place in this gym, in this town.
“Hello, Travis.” Miles looked him up and down and his lips curved, to one of distaste.
Travis was wearing a hoodie, an old shirt underneath with the Hulk printed over it, and ratty jeans and sneakers. Every time Miles looked at him like that, he felt small and insignificant. Not anymore. To hell with Miles.
“You look awful. Small town life not treating you well?” Miles asked. The pompous bastard gave the locker room a look, then turned up his nose. “Let’s talk somewhere else.”
“No way. How did you even find me?” He demanded.
“Cindy has loose lips,” Miles said with a shrugged.
Cindy was his ex-colleague, another programmer who sat left of his cubicle. Travis remembered telling her he was heading back to Black River Bend on his last day of work. Travis doubted she meant him any ill will but he remembered Cindy was a horrible gossip.
“Then I found out your quaint little town’s hosting some big fight. This gym’s owned by your family,” Miles remarked.
Travis scoffed. Of course. Miles had money. Why was he shocked Miles managed to track him down? Miles probably paid someone else or used an intern at work to do all the legwork for him.
“Why bother coming here?” He asked. “We have nothing to talk about. Leave. Excuse me.”
Travis reached for the doorknob but Miles gripped his shoulder. Hard. Travis frowned, looking back at Miles. Miles outweighed him by maybe twenty pounds. Miles went to the gym three times a week and he lifted weights—but he had nothing on Preacher. Travis couldn’t believe he used to be scared of this man.
“I came all the way here to talk to you. Stop being rude,” Miles said, his pleasant demeanor peeling away to reveal his true sinister self underneath. “I want you back at the studio, Travis. You’re irreplaceable. The Blue Cube project’s falling apart and I miss you.”
He shoved Miles’ hand away but the asshole gripped his wrist and narrowed his eyes. His pulse shot up. Every muscle in his body froze in place. He couldn’t move. Travis became all too aware of the fact it was just the two of them in the locker room. If Preacher won, then he was still out there, being swamped by the crowd and the local media. Kurt would probably be with him.
“Let go, Miles,” he said.
The old Travis would’ve cowered back and given into Miles’ demands. He’d been so terrified of this man, of losing his dream job that Travis lost himself along the way. Being back in Black River Bend and going out with Preacher reminded Travis he wasn’t just some geeky loser.
“When did you get a spine, Travis?” Miles yanked him forcefully close.
Their bodies touched. Repulsed, Travis tried to pull away but Miles held his arm like a pincer. Miles pushed his face into his and licked at his cheek. The pervert.
“Go fuck yourself.”
Travis had been caught off-guard earlier but his senses returned to him. He executed the move Preacher taught him recently. He slammed the heel of his palm right into Miles’ privates. Miles howled, letting him go. Travis ran to the door, heart beating fast but Preacher was standing right there.
His boyfriend looked mad as hell. He was sweaty, covered in blood and bruises. The champion belt was tossed over his left shoulder. Preacher touched his shoulder. Just that one gesture, beat back all of his fears.
“Who the hell are you?” Miles demanded.
Miles backed away when Preacher approached him. Preacher still had his gloves on and there was blood crusting on them. Preacher cornered Miles against the lockers. Miles had nowhere else to go. Travis’ heart was in his throat. Preacher looked ready to murder Miles. There was nothing but rage in his eyes.
“Travis’ boyfriend. Let me guess. You’re Miles,” Preacher said.
“Stay back, beast. I’m only warning you once.”
“Shut up.” Preacher punched him right in the face.
Miles slumped against the lockers. Preacher raised his fist again but Travis was there, gripping his arm.
“Preacher, you knocked him out with one punch,” he said. “He’s unconscious.”
Footsteps made Travis turn around. It was Kurt. Sweat dripped down Kurt’s blow.
“Security told me he saw some unidentified guy heading towards the locker room on camera.” Kurt looked at them, then at Miles, who was unconscious on the ground. Blood covered Miles’ face. It looked bad.
“Only broke his nose,” Preacher said. “Fucker deserves much more.”
“Miles?” Kurt asked him.
Travis nodded. “He said he managed to track me here because my ex-colleague Cindy mentioned I was heading back to my hometown. Plus, Miles has money, so it was easy for him.”
“What did he want?” Preacher asked.
“My help on a project’s that falling apart. He also wanted me but knowing him, he just wants someone to kick around, to manipulate,” Travis said.
Kurt’s face darkened. His brother looked like he wanted to kill Miles as well.
Preacher pulled him into his arms. Preacher was bloody, sweaty but he didn’t care. He felt so much safer with Preacher standing next to him.
“He’ll never hurt you again,” Preacher told him.
“We’ll hand him to the police,” Kurt said. “The local sheriff’s an old pal. He’ll let Preacher and me give him another good scare.”
“Kurt,” he said, shocked.
“Don’t worry. We’ll just let him off with a warning,” Preacher said, looking at him in the eyes. “I promise we’ll leave him in one piece.”
“Okay,” he whispered. “I forgot to tell you congratulations. I knew you’d win.”
Preacher grinned at him. Kurt was phoning the police in the background.
Preacher only had eyes for him. “Let’s head home and celebrate, baby.”
****
“SMITH, THANK GOD. YOU got to get me out of this mess,” Miles was saying. The prick closed his mouth when Preacher and Kurt stood right outside his holding cell. Miles turned pale. “Where’s my lawyer?”
“He’s outside, having a nice chat with the sheriff,” Kurt said. “That means we have some time to kill.”
“That’s right. You and us? We’re going to have a little chat,” Preacher said.
“This is illegal and besides, you can’t touch me,” Miles said with a smug look.
Preacher pulled out the keys to the cell from his back pocket. Miles started calling for help but it was futile. Preacher laughed.
“It’s just the three of us here, Miles. The rest of the cells are empty and the coppers are our pals,” Preacher said.
Preacher opened the cell door. Miles had nowhere to run, so he cringed when Preacher approached him, followed by Kurt. Someone had tended to Miles’ broken nose, so he had a big plaster over it. Miles still wore his rumpled suit, slept in it overnight. It looked less elegant with spots of dried blood on it from his nose.
“What do you want?” Miles whispered.
“You’re just going to get slapped with a warning. You won’t get charged,” Kurt said, not bothering to hide the disgust in his voice. “Rich little brats like you are the worst.”
Preacher fisted his hand into Miles’ shirt and shoved him up against the wall. They promised Sheriff Starr they wouldn’t touch a single hair on Miles’ head, although it was sorely tempting. This bastard left permanent mental scars on Travis. If Preacher had his way, he’d beat Miles black and blue all over, before dropping him in some dark and dank hole where no one would ever find him.
Too bad that option would just land him in jail. That wouldn’t do. He had a future to plan out with Travis. He just needed to get rid of this cockroach.
“What my friend here is saying that we’ll only give you one warning. Approach Travis, come anywhere near this town again and we’ll kill you,” Preacher said, his voice flat and empty.
Miles gulped.
“Say you understand. You better mean it, too, or else I’ll rip out that lying tongue from your mouth,” he said.
“I understand,” Miles whispered. “Travis isn’t worth all this shit anyway.”
“You’ll leave town right after your lawyer bails you out,” Kurt said.
“I plan on doing just that,” Miles grumbled.
“We’re done here,” Kurt said, nodding to him.
He didn’t like turning his back to Miles but the cowardly bastard was smart enough not to come after him. Preacher locked the cell behind him. They left the holding cells. Sheriff Starr was still talking to Miles’ flustered lawyer. Preacher gave the sheriff a curt nod. Kurt and he left the station.
“Man, I thought I had to keep you off him,” Kurt said once they were outside.
“I was tempted to leave him a whimpering, bloody mess but I thought of Travis. I don’t want to get in trouble with the law, not now.”
“Let’s go for a drink,” Kurt said. “My treat.”
“Its only noon,” he said.
Kurt chuckled. “Just one.”
They headed to Benny’s, a grimy little bar sandwiched between a charming cafe and a popular coffee chain. Inside it was cool, not crowded, although two old locals were inside, drinking beers. They sat at the bar and Kurt ordered them beers.
“Great fight last night, Preacher,” called one of the old men by the corner. “When’s your next one?”
Preacher swiveled in his chair. “Hey, Lou. That’s my last one.”
“Aw.”
He turned back to the beer the bartender set in front of them. Preacher took a long pull and let out a sigh. “If there’s one thing this town can do right, it’s beer.”
“That’s true.” Kurt took a sip of his bottle. “You holding back on beating Miles’ ass tells me plenty.”
“Oh yeah?” Preacher didn’t need Kurt’s approval in dating Travis, but he shut his mouth because it seemed Kurt had something important to say.
“The Preacher I used to know liked to pick fights for the hell of it,” Kurt remarked.
“Yeah, well. I’m getting old. I got to set a good example for Travis.”
Kurt gave his shoulder a light punch. “I told Travis you and he won’t work out. I take my words back. You might just be the right guy for my brother.”
“Might?” He asked.
Kurt shook his head, laughing. “Travis doesn’t tell me anything. What’s next for him, for you guys?”
“We’re still scouting for a place but we’ve narrowed down to three choices. He’s also interested in working for this start-up gaming company in town,” he said. “He has an interview tomorrow but he’ll get the job.”
Kurt nodded. “I know he will. I probably need to get a new assistant.”
“What about Seth?”
Kurt gave him a warning look.
“Seth’s just a fling. We both agreed we only want sex from each other.”
Preacher had been in Kurt’s shoes before. Kurt wasn’t getting any younger. He should find someone good and steady for him. Preacher decided to leave that topic alone for now. When Kurt was ready to open up to him, then he’d pry.
They finished their drinks. Kurt slapped his shoulder. “You take good care of my little brother, you hear? You mess up and I’ll hunt you down and beat you to a pulp.”
“There’s no need for that. I’m planning on keeping him. Forever,” Preacher answered with a grin.