Speed King (Men of Action 1)

“You too, man.” I slap my hand in his, bringing him in to bump shoulders.

“Did you get it done?” he refers to our meeting.

“We’re not out, but this team is retiring from covert operations.” I describe our new arrangement.

“Knew they wouldn’t let you go.”

“They were happy to let both these thugs go. It was Ford and me that were the losses. Thought Willie would weep the way he took the news,” Talon jokes.

“More like weep with happiness your pain in the ass isn’t his responsibility anymore,” Major throws out.

“What did I miss?” Harley props her elbows on the bar.

“Oh my God, I totally understand why you live at the Club. These guys are fun,” Abbi chirps, finishing her drink.

Apparently, the Club rumor has made its rounds.

Harley looks to all of us, her eyes landing on me last. “They’re a mess, but they’re the best.”

“Did Jay ever tell you about her and Jewls’ first visit to the Club?” Harley’s grin vanishes at Talon’s question.

“No!” she cries out.

“Oooh, this sounds like a fun story.” Presley does a little shimmy. “Tell.”

Talon tells the story with Ford and Major interjecting parts of it. All the while, Harley’s cheeks blister into a deeper shade of pink.

“… then she and Jewls went flying. Screeching like banshees, all arms and legs tangling up as they rolled around. Had to be the worst attempt at being undercover. The only thing they had going for them was the matching black sprocket attire. Funniest fucking shit ever.”

Jewls hears the story and grins proudly, shouting, “Good times,” as she passes.

Everyone gets a laugh at the remark except Harley. She shoots Talon an evil glare and goes to serve a group of guys. They measure her up, one of them openly gaping appreciatively at the edge of her tattoo.

If they’re on the force, I don’t recognize them. I sip my beer, lasering in on the guy who’s now bent over closer, his mouth moving. When his hand covers hers, I’m on the move.

“Shit,” Major hisses at my back.

Instead of heading around, I march straight behind the bar to her side. My hand circles her waist and squeezes possessively. “Baby, the girls need more of those drinks. Do you want me to help you here?”

The guy’s hand retracts, and he jerks his chin in acknowledgment.

She tilts her face to mine, eyes fierce with irritation. “No, bayyybee, I’ll handle it.” Her tone’s a mix of saccharine and sarcasm, her fingernails biting into the skin through my shirt.

She shunts me to the side and grabs three highball glasses, filling them with scotch.

The guy gives her a card to start a tab, then steps out of the way to make room. I dip my face to find her glaring.

“Can you try to not be bullheaded and overprotective?”

“I’m pretty fucking restrained, considering your shirt is still tied. The guy didn’t need to lay his hand on you to order a drink.”

“I’m riding the high of my-initial-being-inked-on-your-finger.” She pokes me in the chest. “Get over my shirt.”

A throat clears, pulling our attention to Rowan and Ginger standing there. I’ve seen them regularly over the last few weeks. Harley explained Rowan was finally coming out of her shell. She joins the girls for Saturday morning Pilates and a few after-work gatherings.

Like all the times I’ve seen her, Ginger is smiling brightly. Rowan is a more reserved, quiet type.

During one of their happy hours, Rowan confessed her ex was a controlling asshole who stepped over the line by using force. The morning after our callout, she began kicking him out of her life.

The night after that outing, I received a text from an unknown number with two words.

Thank you

Simple and direct.

Since then, when we see each other, she’s more comfortable, but still shy.

“Y’all came,” Harley chirps eagerly, her agitation forgotten. “Try tonight’s specialty drink.”

“Sounds great to me. This week has been hell. I swear this last semester is killing me,” Ginger replies dramatically.

“I remember that last semester at Vandy. So nerve-wracking,” Rowan chimes in. “At least you already have a job waiting.”

Part of her statement surprises me. I knew they’ve offered Ginger Harley’s vacant position when she graduates, but I didn’t know Rowan attended Vanderbilt.

“What did I tell you about being behind my bar? Unless your ass is wearing one of my shirts and working for me, you’re a liability!” Tom yells. “Get your ass out and over to the customer side.”

Harley passes their drinks over the bar. “Grab Erik and come around to the other side. I want to introduce you to our friends.”

“And you need to go before Tom has a conniption. He’s had his fill of me tonight.” She pokes my stomach.

“When I get you home, I’m getting my fill of you tonight.” My thumb scales across her midriff, goosebumps popping at the touch.

Her eyes flare with heat, and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.