Mason

  Welcome to the Boys of Glensville Series!

  While this series is more fun, and easier to understand the relationships between the characters if read in order, it is up to you if you want to abide by those rules. Every book can be read as a standalone and still make sense in the series. So, go ahead, be rebellious!

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  Happy Reading!

  Chapter One

  Axe

  Color me surprised when we got invited to the barbeque for that upcoming Saturday. Grizz, Mills and I were putting the finishing touches on our new Tattoo place in Glensville, Washington when Carter Hyde and his boyfriend, Diego Sanchez, came by and asked us to come. We accepted, because why not; we didn't get invited to many places. The three of us looked like some macho, biker, tattooed pricks. Not a lot of people wanted to be our friends. And I was okay with that.

  Grizz was the owner of the tattoo shop and in his late thirties. He was short and broad, but despite his mean mug he had a big heart. Mills was the second in charge, because he was the next oldest. He was only older than me by two years, but that didn't stop him and Grizz from treating me like their younger brother. Mills was tall, big and bearded. He wasn't big in the way that Carter Hyde was big—that fucker could bench press a mountain—Mills was big in a teddy bear sort of way, he was soft around the middle and hairy as all get out. I was the baby of the group, but had been through the most shit. I grew up in a violent household; when I was eighteen my uncle took a knife to my face, and I was left not only with a few small scars that lined my face, but also two large jagged scars that cut into each cheek. One ran from eyebrow to my nose on my left side, and the other from the corner of my mouth to my ear on the right, marring my once handsome features. When I had been younger I had been the man who looked like an angel, but acted like the devil. To some people that was sexy; I was Gratton High's very own bad boy, and my teen years were ripe with sex and dates with my high school classmates, male and female alike. But now, everyone always looked at me in fear. They saw the scars and saw a dangerous man, and I guess some people still find that sexy, but I no longer looked angelic. I looked like the devil himself chewed me up and spit me back out. I didn't laugh or smile as much as I used to, and I had no problem telling the truth no matter how brutal or how fucked up it sounded. My eyes were so dark, and so haunted by the shit I had done and seen that some people took one look into them and immediately began backing away. I'm sure the tattoos, chains, dark clothes and the knife I carried around didn't help my friendly appearance. Not that I gave a shit.

  I had been a dangerous man once. I had to fight to survive in my neighborhood in Chicago, and I knew how to handle a gun and a blade before my thirteenth birthday. I was good with my fists, and before Grizz found me, I threw punches first and asked questions later. That was life in my family and where I grew up. You fought to eat. You fought to get your point across. You fought to live.

  “Hey,” Grizz's voice cut through my thoughts. “Get your head outta your ass and get back to painting.”

  I shot him a look that made him laugh. “Yes, boss.”

  Our tattoo shop was the first thing Grizz had ever done just for himself. We had all worked up in Seattle at Breaker's Tattoo, a tattoo and piercing shop close to Pike Place Market, but when Grizz found out our old boss was selling drugs out of the back, we all cut ties and made our way down to the small town of Glensville. Glensville was an hour away from Seattle, and had never had a tattoo shop—that was until we came along.

  We bought the empty building next door to the used book store, and began working. It had taken us eight months, but finally we were opening our doors in a week. Grizz had named the shop Thorns and Roses Ink, after his mother Rose. She had been a big influence on Grizz, and he loved her more than life itself.

  I finished painting the second 'S' in Roses on the window, and stretched, letting out a small content sigh when I felt the little pops go up my spine.

  “You guys wanna go eat?” Grizz asked.

  Mills just nodded at Grizz's question, but remained silent. He was concentrating on hooking up the computer system.

  “Shit, yeah,” I replied, dropping my paint brush in a bucket of water.

  I had the mouth of a sailor, that's what my Ma was always telling me. My bad mouth was always getting me in trouble with my teachers and Pa. He popped me good once or twice when I called my brother an asshole when I was seven and then again when I was twelve. He hit me more frequently as I grew older. You weren't a man if you didn't know how to take a punch, that's what Pa was always telling me and my brother, Austin.

  We locked up and walked the short distance to the only restaurant we seemed to frequent: The Diner. It served everything from burgers to ribs to soup and fried okra. I was in love with their chicken blue-cheese sandwich. The Diner wasn't as busy as I had expected on a Friday night, but I wasn't complaining. The less people in one place the better; big crowds tend to make me itchy under the collar.

  “Hey, guys!” Betty-Anne greeted as she fluttered by with a tray full of food, her long dark and gray hair swinging behind her. “Sit anywhere.”

  We all piled into a booth across from where Diego Sanchez, Mason Dewitt and a man who looked like a hippie with bunch of tattoos were sitting; they were talking about some video game or another. I had never talked to any of them. I had only formally met Arthur Clemons and Carter Hyde before two days ago when Carter introduced us to Diego. Carter and I hadn't started off on the best foot; he had pulled me over for speeding, and I may have been an asshole, but we were cool now. . .since Grizz made me apologize.

  I found myself staring at Mason longer than I should have. I admit, the reason I knew Mason's name was because I had asked Carter. His boyfriend was friends with Mason and I had seen them in The Diner from time to time.

  The first time I had seen Mason was back in October. He was tall, slender and had short, spiky blond hair. I hadn't been close enough to see the color of his eyes, but I knew they were light instead of dark. He was younger than me by five years, and I usually went for older men or women, but he was sexy in the All-American-Boy way, and though I normally went for men or woman who were more like me—rough around the edges, looking for a good fuck and nothing more—I found myself wondering what it would be like to get Mason into bed. Fuck, what the hell would a boy-next-door type like Mason Dewitt want with a degenerate like me? Mason was the type of man who became your boyfriend, and I was the type of man you brought home to fuck and never call again, or brought home to scare your parents. I grumbled at that; I had always been okay with just being a flirt and a fuck, but I didn't want Mason to view me as only that. Not that he viewed me as anything. He didn't even know me.

  I turned my gaze away from the table, and looked down at my menu. I could feel Mills and Grizz looking at me, but I ignored them.

  “Are you ever going to talk to him?” Mills asked. “I heard he asked about you.”

  “Mind your fucking business,” I grumbled, fisting my hands on the table. “Who the fuck would want this?” I asked, gesturing to my scarred face.

  Grizz tsked like an old lady. “Anyone would be lucky to have you, Zachary.”

  I scowled at him. I hated my fucking name. Zachary Knox. It was the name of my grandfather and my uncle, and they both had been bastards. My grandfather was the reason my father thought beating your kids was the only way to make them behave, and my uncle was alway strung out on drugs, and would lash out at me or my brother when he was high. I had been going by Ax
e Knox since I was fifteen, and I will go by Axe Knox until the day I died.

  “I'm serious,” Grizz said. “If I was younger....”

  Grizz trailed off which was good because I did not want him to finish that sentence; he was like a father figure or an older brother to me. He had only ever been in love with one man, and would probably only ever be in love with that man until the day he stopped breathing.

  “Can we just eat?” I snipped.

  The guys nodded, and we lapsed into silence until Betty-Anne came to take our order.

  ~ ~ ~

  I felt uncomfortable in places that had a lot of people, and I was definitely uncomfortable now. It seemed half of the town had been invited to Carter and Diego's barbeque. I promised Grizz that I would stay at the party for a minimum of an hour, but I couldn't deny that I wanted to leave ten minutes after arriving.

  About forty-five minutes in, a lesbian couple had announced that they were getting married, and not even a few minutes later a gay couple got engaged. Everything seemed happy and light until a thunderous yell piecered through the cheers and applause. I was clapping along with everyone else, even though I didn't know the couple, and really didn't give a shit that they just got engaged. The only people I knew were Grizz, Mills, Carter and Diego....and well, Mason. Sort of. I was avoiding standing anywhere near Mason, but I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. He looked damned delicious in his tight jeans and light blue shirt that was slightly sheer, showing a hint of his pert nipples.

  “CALEB!”

  We all turned to see the source of the commotion and saw a drunk man standing over by the gate. He was swaying on his feet, a bottle of Jack Daniel's was threatening to spill from his hand.

  One of the men, who had just gotten engaged, actually went pale.

  Then everything happened so fast. The drunk man threw out some hateful words, and grabbed the man—Caleb—by the elbow, some people confronted the drunk man. I assumed the drunk man was Caleb's father, and I hated seeing a father abuse their kids. I hated when anyone pushed someone around. So I stalked over there with Grizz and Mills at my flank. A few steps ahead of us was Carter with a man who was as tall as he was broad with curly brown hair, and a man with red hair and a beard. They were walking up to the man holding Caleb, each vibrating with anger.

  “Fucking faggots,” I heard the drunk man snarl to his son. My blood boiled even more. Who the fuck did this guy think he was?

  “Now,” the broad man with curly hair said, “if you don't let go of Caleb's arm this 'fucking faggot' is going to kick your ass.”

  Caleb's father froze, sizing up the five of us. It looked like the man was going to let go of his son, but suddenly he punched Caleb right in the jaw. The tall man with the curly hair punched the drunk man in the face without another warning. Caleb's father fell over in the grass on his ass, whimpering like a fucking coward.

  Everyone else seemed to think that was the end of it, but I kept going. I stood over the man, blood was dripping from his mouth, and I popped my knuckles.

  For a second I saw my father, my grandfather and my uncle in this man, and I sneered down at him. Something in my eyes must have told this man to not fuck with me, because he whimpered and scurried backwards, his back hitting the fence surrounding the yard.

  “If I ever see you in my fucking town again,” I growled at him. “I will fucking kill you.”

  The man's eyes went wide. I thought about punching him for good measure, but then hands were on me, pushing me away, and a few people hauled the drunk man up to his feet.

  I turned away and found my way back to Grizz and Mills. I was shaking. I could still see my grandfather, father and uncle behind my eyes. I shook my head like a wet dog. I needed the image to go away.

  “You good?” Grizz asked, handing me a beer. He was the only person I have ever told my past too. He knew how much seeing a father hurting their child upset me.

  “I'm good.”

  I sat heavily in a chair and watched the man being hauled away. The party resumed, but I just sat in the chair watching the condensation run down the side of my beer bottle.

  “That was a nice thing you did for Caleb,” a voice said from my left. “Not a lot of people would have gotten in the middle of a fray for a stranger.”

  I looked up into the eyes of Mason Dewitt. As I had thought, his eyes were a light blue-green; the color of his shirt made his eyes seem bigger and bluer. He stood in front of me with a cup of Nana Greta's Naughty Lemonade in one hand and his other hand was on his hip. He wasn't overly feminine, but there was something about him that seemed almost soft. There was lilt to his voice that pitched the tone slightly higher. And I admit I did notice the slight sway in his hips when he walked.

  “I don't know about that,” I grunted.

  He stuck his hand out to me, the other hand that was holding his drink was in a brace. His hand looked soft, and I briefly wondered what they would feel like wrapped around my cock, or running along the ridges of my abs.

  “I'm Mason.”

  I wrapped my rough hand around his soft one, jumping slightly at the jolt of electricity that ran through me when my hand touched his. What the fuck was that?

  “Axe Knox.”

  “Axe?” Mason smiled, and fucking Jesus was that smile something else. “That can't be your real name.”

  “No one calls me by my first name anymore, expect for Grizz,” I replied, nodding over to where Grizz was talking to Diego and Carter, “but only when he's trying to Papa bear me.”

  Mason's smile grew bigger. “Axe it is then. Can I sit?”

  I gestured to the chair next to me. “Be my guest.”

  Mason

  Sure, I had noticed the extremely sexy, bad boy with the scars on his face months ago when I had first seen him in The Diner. I had seen him around town, but I never talked to him. I never had the courage, but there was something about him threatening Mr. Samuels that gave me the kick in the ass to finally talk to him. He had looked so menacing—so dangerous, so delicious—I had almost creamed my jeans just watching him.

  Axe, he told me his name was. Axe suited him. He looked like he spent nights at biker bars, and didn't mind picking a fight with someone like Declan Jones who was twice his size. There's a hardness in his eyes that makes it seem like he has seen and been through some shit. He's wearing all black and a leather jacket. His motorcycle boots look scruffed with age. There's a knife strapped to his thigh, and the sight of it causes me to shiver. Not because I'm afraid of it, but because I find the fact that he carries a knife around incredibly sexy. Hell, I found everything about Axe Knox incredibly sexy.

  Axe is gorgeous in a rough and tough bad boy sort of way. He has black hair, and tattoos that crawl out of the neck of his shirt and up his throat. His eyes are a dark green, and the corner of his left eye is pulled down by one of his scars. His lips are full, but look rough. Another scar pulls the right corner of his mouth down into a permanent scowl, and there are other little marks and scars dotting over the rest of his face. His nose is slightly crooked like its been broken a time or two. My mouth was watering just looking at him.

  “Did you meet everyone?” I asked sitting in the chair next to him.

  “A handful,” he says gruffily. “That Greta Pile is a feisty thing.”

  I laughed, and then blushed when I saw Axe looking at me out of the corner of his eyes. His gaze caused a shiver to go up my spine.

  “That she is.”

  “What did you do to your wrist?” he asked.

  I looked down at the black brace I had to wear for another two weeks. The damn thing was cumbersome. I hadn't been able to properly jack off in a week. I hated that I was so clumsy. Neil used to joke that I had tripped coming out of our mom.

  “Skateboard accident,” I replied, tugging on the brace. “I'm kind of clumsy.”

  The corner of Axe's mouth tugged up minutely into what I think might have been the beginnings of a smile, but it was gone in an instant.

  “How are thin
gs going with the shop?”

  Axe tipped his head back to the sun, and I took the opportunity to study the tattoos on his neck. There were swallows, and a cobweb, and the tip of something that disappeared down into his shirt. I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

  “Almost fucking done. Thank God.” He tipped his head back down, and looked at me. “You looking for some ink?”

  I shrugged. I thought about getting Neil's name tattooed on me somewhere, but I didn't really have the balls to go through with it.

  “Well, we open on Tuesday. Come in and talk to me if you want one.” He tipped his head back again, and I felt like that was the end of the conversation, but I didn't want to move so I tipped my head back and closed my eyes.

  ~ ~ ~

  I should have known moving back to Glensville would stir up shit about Neil's death. Mom had warned me about how painful it would be to live in Glensville again; she told me that seeing the town would make the memories come flooding back, and they had. Everywhere I looked I saw my brother. When I looked at The Clip and Save I remembered how he would take me to go get sweets while Mom and Dad were at work. When I looked at the park I saw him trying to teach me how to ride a bike. I haven't driven past our old house yet. I know what memory I would see when or if I did: Neil in the bathtub, a needle in his arm and vomit on the front of his shirt. His lips blue, and his eyes bulging and yellow. I was the one that had found him, and the memory haunted me until this day.

  I hadn't known Neil was on drugs. There had never been signs; I had only been a kid, I didn't really know what to look for. Mom and Dad should have known; they should have seen that Neil had needed help.

  Neil had been my best friend before he died. He was the only one who knew I was gay, besides Diego, before I came out when I was eighteen. He had caught me masturbating to porn when I was fourteen, and assured me he wouldn't tell anyone until I was ready. I thought I may have been ready when I was sixteen; Diego was out and since we had been sort of dating I thought I should come out too even though I didn't think I was ready. I was ashamed of my feelings towards Diego. Mom and Dad never spewed hate or anything, but I didn't think they would approve of their youngest son liking men. I had prepared myself to come out even though I didn't know if I was ready, and then Neil had died.