Page 51 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

He’d just managed to turn the corner when a rough hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

He tried to pull away from the grip. “Erik, what the hell are you doing?”

Erik’s grip tightened on his shoulder. “You’ve been avoiding me. How the hell else am I going to get you to talk to me?”

Troy frowned. “What? Erik, of course I’ve been avoiding you. You’ve been clinging to me like some needy boyfriend. Jesus, I blocked you, so I didn’t have to open my phone and see thirty missed calls while I was at work.”

Erik’s dark hazel eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to just put me off like that, Troy.”

“The hell I don’t!”

“You owe me more than that.”

Troy finally succeeded in wrenching himself out of Erik’s grasp. “I don’t owe you shit, Erik. We had a great weekend, and I liked spending time with you, but that’s all it was, a weekend.”

“No it wasn’t, not to me.”

“Maybe not, but I told you it was nothing serious from the start, and you were fine with that. So leave me the hell alone and accept it!”

Erik took hold of Troy again, this time by the neck, and shoved him against the wall. Troy gasped as his head slammed against the brick, stars flashing in his eyes.

“You little slut,” Erik hissed.

“Fuck...you,” Troy grunted.

Christ, why did he have to pick big guys for his favored bed partners?

Erik had almost half a foot on Troy and outweighed him by at least fifty pounds.

His strong fingers, calloused and rough from his work in an auto shop, were beginning to dig into Troy’s throat, cutting off his oxygen.

It didn’t help that Erik pushed closer, making it almost to kissing distance as he pinned Troy to the wall.

“You don’t...get to do that to me,” Erik continued the smell of beer heavy on his breath.

Troy tried to lash out, but Erik was too close, and Troy had never learned more than the basic maneuvers when it came to a fight.

The best he could do was struggle against the man’s body, his mind frantic as he tried to figure out what the hell he was going to do.

This portion of the street was empty, away from the normal thoroughfare.

God, Erik could probably do whatever he wanted.

“Erik, let...go,” Troy wheezed.

The man was beyond logic and reason, his fingers tightening on Troy’s neck.

Darkness began to creep in around the edges of his vision, and even as he was beginning to fade, Troy’s mind couldn’t help but evaluate what was happening in medical terms. If Erik continued, Troy was going to be another murder victim in the city. Cause of death? Asphyxiation.

A shadow fell over them, accompanied by a growl. It wasn’t enough to make Erik loosen his grip, but it was enough to make him step back to see what the interference was. Troy gritted his teeth and lashed out with what little strength he had left, driving his knee between Erik’s legs.

Erik gasped, then squeaked, and stepped back with a hissed, “You?—”

And then the shadow descended.

The huge shape barreled into Erik, and Troy gasped desperately as the grip around his throat was ripped away.

Troy dropped to the ground, not realizing until his ass hit the pavement that Erik had been holding him up.

His hand rose to his throat as he gasped for breath, looking toward the two men fighting nearby.

Troy’s eyes widened, and he recognized the shape of one of the men as he rolled and tried to punch the other.

“O-Oscar?” Troy rasped, rubbing his throat.

Oscar was giving the fight his all, and despite the lack of two hands, he was managing quite well.

Troy watched as Oscar shoved Erik onto his back, rearing back to punch him across the jaw, once, twice, three times.

Troy’s eyes widened as he realized Oscar wasn’t going to stop, and he launched himself forward.

Troy wrapped his hands around Oscar’s forearm and yanked back. “Oscar! Stop!”

Oscar turned to snarl at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Stopping you from ruining your fucking life, now stop! You’ve won. He’s down, stop!”

Sure enough, the most to come out of Erik was a low gurgle as he looked around with dazed eyes. Troy stared down at him, amazed that not only had Erik been ready to kill him but that the fight had happened so fast.

“Shit, did I pass out?” Troy wondered.

It was the only thing that could explain how his memory could go from gasping in a breath and checking himself mentally to the fight being over and done with.

Troy looked at Oscar, his eyes widening. “Oh shit...Oscar.”

He had definitely missed a lot. There was a nasty mark beside Oscar’s right eye, and a cut on his left eyebrow was bleeding steadily. There were scrapes on his bare arm from their scuffle in the street, and Troy had no doubt there were probably more injuries he couldn’t see.

Troy gave him another tug. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

“I don’t have a car,” Oscar grumbled.

“Well, I do. I’ll call someone to pick Erik up, but I’m getting you back to the base to look these wounds over.”

“I’m fine.”

Troy gave another tug, and once Oscar was on his feet, he pointed to the corner. “Go, I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Like you ever fucking did,” Oscar grumbled.

Troy shook his head, biting back the acerbic response on the tip of his tongue. He crouched beside Erik, who was still struggling for consciousness. Troy reached into the man’s shirt and pulled out his phone, amazed to see it was still in one piece.

“Good quality phone cover,” Troy remarked.

As he waited for the phone to dial 911, he turned to watch Oscar as he limped down the street and smiled. Despite complaining, Oscar was walking in the direction Troy had pointed.

“Fuck,” Oscar hissed, pulling back.

Troy kept his hand in place, raising a brow. “Really? Don’t be a big baby.”

“It hurts.”

“This from the man with enough gunshot wounds he could apply to be a range target.”

Oscar continued to glower, wincing when Troy dabbed the cut on his brow.

Oscar didn’t have any first aid supplies at his apartment, and in a fit of irony, neither did Troy.

So instead, he’d opted to take Oscar back to the clinic where he knew he’d have supplies at hand and would only have to endure a curious look from Dean before shoving Oscar into one of the exam rooms.

“This needs stitches,” Troy said, eyeing the wound.

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. It needs stitches.”

“And I said it’s fine,” Oscar growled.

Troy stepped back, leveling his gaze at Oscar. “And as the medically trained professional here, I’m saying you need stitches, and you’re going to get them. So keep your ass in that seat, Staff Sergeant, or I’ll sedate you and then put in the stitches.”

Oscar still glowered, but he didn’t put up a fight. Tossing the swab in the nearby bin, Troy backed out of the room and down the hallway to the office. He stopped in the doorway, spying Dean as the man kicked back in his seat, reading a book, with a smirk.

“Why the hell do you look so pleased with yourself?” Troy demanded.

“I don’t hear you whip out the ‘Doc’ voice, like, at all,” Dean said with a chuckle.

“Quit eavesdropping like a little sneak,” Troy told him.

“It’s quiet as a tomb in here. I can hear everything .”

Troy rolled his eyes. “Can you do me a favor?”

Dean looked up. “What? Get the suture kit from the supply closet using my personal code so the system doesn't flag you as here when you weren’t supposed to be?”

Troy frowned. “You don’t have to make it sound that shady.”

“It’s only shady if you don’t tell me why you’re here instead of a hospital.”

Troy sighed. “We...there was a fight.”

“Between you two?”

“Ha! I’d be in traction if that were the case. Have you seen Oscar? Guy is twice my size.”

“In all ways?”

Troy blinked. “Did...you just ask about Oscar’s dick?”

“Maybe, why?”

“Because you never make dirty jokes or comments or even pretend sex exists in your world.”

“It exists,” Dean said, setting his book aside with a snort.

Troy’s eyes widened. “Holy shit, did you and Sloane finally?—”

“Hey! What do you mean finally?”

“Oh shit. You did!”

Dean pushed himself out of his seat with a sigh. “Right, I’ll get your supplies on the understanding that you shut the hell up and don’t finish whatever you were about to say.”

“Only if you give me the details later.”

Dean hesitated, grimaced, and then said, “Fine. Deal.”

Troy bounced up and down with a pleased smirk and waited as Dean stepped into the supply room.

He’d honestly just taken a stab at what had made Dean more liberal with his comments and improved his mood so greatly.

It certainly didn’t hurt that Troy had seen Sloane around the clinic the day before, and the usually surly-looking man looked almost radiant and happy.

“Good for you,” Troy muttered with a wide grin.

Dean reappeared with the supplies, shoving them into Troy’s hands. “Don’t hang around for too long, okay? Last thing I need is for some dumbass private to see you here, run their mouth, and suddenly we’re being asked questions.”

“We won’t be long. I just need to stitch the grumpy one up, and we’ll call it good,” Troy said.

“And here I thought that was your term for Sloane.”

“Apparently, since he’s getting laid more often, he’s not grumpy anymore.”

Dean jabbed a finger toward the office door. “Alright, out.”

Troy laughed, turning on his heel and walking out of the office before Dean found something to throw at him. His laughter died as he pushed back the curtain to the examination room, stopping when he saw the scowl on Oscar’s face.

“What?” Troy asked.

“What are you out there laughing about?” Oscar asked.

Troy shook his head. “Not you.”

For a moment, he thought about telling Oscar but realized he didn’t want him to know that Dean knew about the two of them. Oscar could be a difficult patient, and Troy didn’t want him freaking out because someone knew his ‘dreaded’ secret.

Troy set the supplies on a tray and got to work. “You know, I have to ask?—”