Page 73 of Kings Have No Mercy
It’s been a week since we established some kinda relationship. I’m no commitment guy and probably never will be. I don’t have deep feelings for the chicks I’m involved with and likely won’t ever. But the dynamic between Syd and meworks.
So far, it’s only gotten better.
Which explains what I’m guessing was a slightly less moody look on my face. The expression that’s caused Cash to call me out.
I leave Chaz at my bike and follow Cash over to his. At this time of day, the Chop Shop is all business—the loud whir of drills and other power tools make it so it’s hard to hear, and the place reeks of motor oil and sweat. It’s an environment that feels natural to both me and Cash; enough that we shoot the shit here often.
“That obvious?” I ask, leaning against the cement wall.
He pulls out a torque wrench and kneels before his FXDB Street Bob. “Mace, you were smiling last night. At the saloon.”
“You know I do that from time to time, right? Might not be as often as you with that Hollywood actor, Colgate sponsorship smile of yours, but occasionally, I do.”
“WithSydney sitting in your lap?”
Fuck. Forgot about that.
I hadn’t been able to resist—she’d been prancing around the bar floor in her favorite pair of denim cutoffs and her ass looked so fucking good, I just had to have her in my lap. Then I remembered we were in the middle of a crowded bar and eyes were on us.
“You were smiling,” Cash continues, his blue eyes shining. “I’ve never seen you smile like that.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snap. “Mind your business.”
What else can I say? He’s got me dead to rights. There’s no denying what happened, even if I’d done it after being emboldened by two beers.
“She’s good for you. She’s a woman that can go toe-to-toe with you. You need someone like that.”
“You’re an expert on love all of a sudden?”
“No,” he answers, twisting his torque wrench, “but I sure as hell know what my best friend looks like happy.”
“You teasing him about Sydney?” hollers Tatum “Tate” McKinley. Another enforcer of ours; he’s more part time than anything as a professional fighter. He grins in the same way Cash is, revealing they’ve talked about this.
“I’ve got no problem kicking your ass too, Tate—or giving it a shot against those lethal weapons you call hands.”
Both guys laugh.
I should be pissed, but deep down I can’t be.
They’re right—I am in a better mood. Iwassmiling.
And I don’t give a fuck about any of it. Considering the revenge mission we’ll be setting into motion against the Hellrazors soon, I need all the good times I can get. Sydney gives me that.
* * *
“SURPRISE!”
I almost swing blind on anybody jumping out at me. Several do, crowded around the patio as the lights flick on and I realize I’m surrounded. They clutch beers and wear fat, dopey grins. A bonfire burns in the rock pit farther out, the flames bright orange in the night. Sydney, Velma, Sandie, and a few others stand by the long table next to a huge cake.
“What the fuck’s all this?” I grunt.
But I already know. My birthday is like any other day. I treat it as such.
I spent most of the day at the Chop Shop and in the back office putting the final details in place for our revenge against the Hellrazors.
We’ve finally tracked down their supplier and figured out their next transaction for drugs and weapons.
When I checked on the saloon, business was slow as any other typical Monday night. I was cutting through the patio to make it to Tom’s house only to be bombarded by this surprise party.