Page 2 of Kings Have No Mercy

1993 or ’94 Dodge Spirit. Bronze. The rear window cracked. The license plate missing.

My old man was a mechanic before he was a King. I’ve spent hours hanging around the Chop Shop and flipping through the car magazines he collects. Blake might know a bunch of fancy words, but I know a bunch about cars.

And bikes.

Real bikes. Not the dopey bicycles we ride around on.

The Dodge’s engine turns off and the driver door pops open. I’m far enough away that I haven’t been able to figure out who’s inside.

The guy behind the wheel gets out, and I frown. His face isn’t visible, but I can tell he’s not from around here.

Tall. About my old man’s height. No hair. Jeans and a cracked leather vest with patches.

He walks up the front path to my house and then knocks on the screen door. A second passes before it opens and he steps inside.

I forget about my bike. It crashes down onto the asphalt. I sprint across the street toward my house. Somewhere behind me, Blake calls out, wondering what I’m doing. I don’t slow down, pumping my legs faster.

Who the hell does this guy think he is showing up at my house? Where’s he from and why would he be invited inside?

Something’s off about him. I don’t know how I know, but I just do.

“Mace!”

I slow up at the voice, turning my head.

Logan’s staring at me from around the side of our house. He puts out the cigarette he’s been smoking and runs a hand through his hair. “What’re you doing?”

If there’s anybody other than my old man and best friend Blake who can talk me down, it’s Logan. He’s got a knack for talking me out of trouble.

Even though he gets into a shit ton of trouble himself.

“I should ask you,” I say, pointing at the butt on the ground. “Mom said no smoking.”

“What Mom doesn’t know won’t kill her. What were you about to do?”

“Who’s that guy? He just pulled up.”

Logan shrugs and leans against the side of the house. “Probably Dad’s dealer… or a guy from another MC.”

I make a face. It’s my scowl that everybody’s used to by now—my brows scrunch and my mouth bends. Ma says my ears go redder than the reddish brown tint in my hair.

“Anyway,” Logan says, grinning. “I’m headed out. Meeting Ivy Gilliam at the ravine. Cover for me.”

“Like I care. I’m gonna find out who it is.”

“Don’t go eavesdropping—”

I ignore Logan’s warning, brushing past him on my way into the house. I enter through the backdoor in the kitchen, and though I make plenty of noise, Ma and Pa don’t hear me ‘cuz they’re too busy talking to the guy inside our house.

The three of them are in the living room.

Even catching a few words, I can tell hostility is in the air.

“I don’t know what you want. You’ve been outta control for a while now, Wheels. What you did to Hawk and his family was damn wrong and you know it,” says my old man. “You want info I don’t have.”

“You’re a fucking liar, Cutty! That’s all you do—lie and backstab!”

“Calm the hell down! Call me a liar one more time and—”