Speed King (Men of Action 1)

“Yep, friends.”

Her head turns our way, and she flashes a flirty smile.

Jesus, my best friend is a true dumbass if he thinks that’s a smile aimed at ‘just a friend’. But I decide to let it go. Whatever is happening between them seems to work.

Major waves his beer in the air, signaling he’s ready for another. Which is bullshit, since he’s only had a few sips. She pulls four bottles out of the tub of ice, bringing them over.

“It’s a good thing you arrived when you did. Tom was milliseconds away from tying Harley to a chair and taping her mouth shut,” she teases, passing out bottles.

“She’s settled.”

“That means your meeting went well?”

“Went the way we expected.”

“I’m shocked they let you go. All those lines they crossed to keep you in the loop, and they cut you loose?” She makes a scissor gesture with her fingers.

“Not exactly, we’re staying in the Reserves in a more training and development role,” Major informs her.

“I dig that. At least, now, you guys only have one dangerous job we need to worry about.”

“You don’t need to worry. We can handle ourselves.”

“You can keep repeating that and I’ll do the same. We worry.” She emphasizes the last sentence.

“Aww, little Jewls. You saying you love us?” Talon makes a kissing sound.

“Yeah, you asshat. Don’t know why, but I guess I do.”

“Jewls! Get back to work. You two wanted this damn themed night. Go take care of these women,” Tom barks brusquely.

Like everyone, she’s unaffected, patting his cheek and sashaying away.

A quick glance, and I note Major’s eyes glued to her ass.

“You guys know anything about Hayes Security waltzing into my bar?”

The name gets all of our attention. Casting a glance over Tom’s shoulder, I catch Robbie and Finn with their wives and another couple, Jimi and Abbi. Max is hanging to the side.

“My guess is Harley and Jewls invited them, and their husbands are checking this place out.”

“They friends of yours?”

“Guess you can say that. Only been around them a few times. Why, something I should know?”

“Robbie Hayes and Finn Black are bad mothers. Max Roberts works with them occasionally. Robbie’s dad owns the security firm, and his reputation is hailed far and wide. Over the years, we worked together a few times. When I retired, thought about hitting up James Hayes for a side gig, then changed my mind. That team has skills.”

“We know that first hand,” Ford relays.

Talon and Ford called a few friends in MARSOC to get backgrounds on Finn, Robbie, and Max. Their military and professional records are impressive.

Finn, Robbie, Presley, and Ember came by a few days after we got home. The guys didn’t share who relayed the intel of our mission, but gave us a rundown of the news that came in. Max had already left town, but a few days later, I called him to thank him.

While we were in the hospital, Harley filled me in on the night she learned we were shot. The jealous bastard in me reared up, knowing another man had her in his arms, but I forced myself to hold it in, knowing how torn up she was.

Max took care of her, and that is something that she’ll always remember. So, I sucked up my pride and let him know how much it meant that he was there.

“They’re good people to have relations with. Remember that. Word on the street is they’re always recruiting.” Tom’s parting words hang in the air after he walks away.

“Hey, guys!” Harley notices them, jumping up and waving.

With each bounce, her shirt goes higher, and I dip my chin to my chest to keep from losing my mind.

“Hey there.” A hand lands on my shoulder, and I tilt to see Presley sliding in close. “You alright?”

“Trying to keep from catapulting across this bar and yanking that fucking knot out of my fiancée’s shirt.”

Her mouth splits into an amused smile. “Yeah, you’re okay.”

“Better man than me,” Finn mutters, offering his hand.

“I’d have Ember over my shoulder and out the door,” Robbie adds.

“Hardly, I’ve had two kids and miss the days my stomach was that toned and sexy,” Ember speaks up.

“Amen, sister.” Presley salutes her with a flick of her fingers.

Both men roll their eyes.

“You ladies get the signature drink of the night on the house!” Harley chirps, pushing three martini glasses across to them.

“Oh, thank God. It’s been a day from hell. I’ve been jonesing for hours.” Abbi steps in, swipes a glass, and finishes half in one swallow. “This is divine!”

“Oh, fuck.” Jimi drops his chin, much like my move earlier, and shakes his head.

“Four IPA’s, whatever you have,” Finn orders from Harley.

Major, Ford, Talon, and I offer our seats to the girls.

Harley delivers the drinks and hustles to the end of the bar where a crowd has formed.

“Damn good to see you guys,” Max repeats the sentiment we’ve heard over and over.