Speed King (Men of Action)

by Ahren Sanders

  “You have an admirer,” Ford smirks as I place the weight bar back in the cradle.

  “Not interested.”

  “You may think differently once you see her.”

  “It’s never mattered, let’s roll.”

  “Too late. Five… four… three… two…”

  “Hello there,” a sultry voice sounds, and I spin to find a woman standing two feet away. She’s dressed in skin-tight clothes with a perfectly styled ponytail and a face full of make-up. At barely seven–thirty in the morning, she looks out of place in a gym full of men and women trying to get in a workout before their day begins. It’s even more obvious when her eyes fill with unmistakable intent as she steps closer.

  “Hey.”

  “I’ve seen you in here before.”

  Not shocking since I’m here six days a week. I’ve noticed her, too, and avoided all contact. She’s attractive if you’re into the assertive cat-and-mouse chase. Most men would jump at the opportunity to play her game.

  I’m not most men… and she’s not Harley.

  “My name is Mia.”

  “Ace.”

  “Ace.” My name rolls off her tongue, and her gaze roams over my arms appreciatively. “I really like your ink. I have a tattoo as well, but it’s in a more intimate area.”

  Ford’s chuckle turns into a cough when I spear him with a look of irritation.

  She takes my silence as an invitation to keep talking. “Are you new to the force?” Her perfectly manicured finger points to my sweaty and ripped MNPD shirt.

  “I am.” My instincts tell me she already knows the answer since men and women on the force frequent this gym. The proximity to the station makes it convenient.

  My suspicions are confirmed when her gaze grows hungrier and she licks her lips. “I have great respect for those who protect our city. Maybe you and I could grab—”

  “Ace!” She’s cut off by a thunderous shout across the floor.

  I whip around to find Talon and Major striding my way, their faces masked with a mixture of worry and caution.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh shit, he doesn’t know,” Major says.

  “Know what?”

  “You haven’t checked your phone?” Talon asks carefully.

  “Not yet. Shift ended at seven. Came straight here.”

  “Check it.”

  “Why?”

  “You need to see something.”

  “So show it to me.”

  “No way, my phone is brand new.” He tucks his phone protectively to his hip.

  I slice my eyes to Major, who’s enjoying this too much. A familiar sixth sense kicks in. “One of you motherfuckers better tell me what’s going on.”

  “Stop being a pussy,” Major snatches the phone out of Talon’s hold, tossing it to me.

  Ford is at my side in a second, viewing the image. “Sweetheart, you’d better move along. This won’t be pretty,” he tells Mia, who I forgot about.

  “Ummm,” she hesitates.

  “Mia, he’s taken. Your flirting is useless here,” he says gently, trying not to embarrass her.

  I assume she leaves, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the image of Harley, leaning over a bar serving a beer to a man who’s smiling a predatory smile. I don’t have to zoom in to see her tits on display in the shirt that reads ‘Tom’s’. A throaty growl builds low in my throat, and I clutch the phone so hard the display blurs.

  “Shit,” Talon complains.

  I raise my eyes to his, waiting for an explanation.

  “She’s working part-time. Jewls says they are saving for a vacation.”

  “Does Rich know?”

  “He’s the one who took us there.”

  “Sly fuck,” I hiss. He had the opportunity to tell me, but this is his way of pushing up my timeline. Blindsiding me into knowing that Harley is working in a bar is not a problem.

  Harley working at Tom’s is.

  Then it hits me like a force so solid I swallow down the roar. I met Tom through Rich ages ago. Word is, he retired and opened a bar, and for that, all the guys on the force go there. I haven’t visited him since moving back. The last month in the academy I heard rumblings. The guys dropping the name of the bar with the ‘hot babe’ bartenders. I had no interest.

  Now that I’m aware they were referring to Harley and Jewls, my mind has changed.

  “She’s working tonight at five,” Major offers the information breezily.

  “Guess that’s where we’re headed?” Ford assumes.

  “Bet your ass.”

  “Feel obligated to tell you Jay’s pretty popular amongst the crowd.” Talon takes his phone back.

  “No surprise there.”

  “I’m sure this will fall on deaf ears, but we just started this job. It’d suck to make enemies so quickly.”

  “No enemies as long as my point is made.”

  “What point is that?”

  “Harley’s off-limits.”

  We aren’t five feet in the door, and the hostile vibes are already rolling. “This is going to be a long night,” Ford utters under his breath as we make our way to the bar.

  It’s relatively early, but the place is busy, almost every table occupied and the bar full. I stop a few feet away, taking in the place. It is exactly what you’d expect from a retired-cop-turned-bar owner. Not a typical sports bar with team gear and paraphernalia everywhere. Instead, pictures of cops through the years, patriotic flags, and emblems line the walls.

  “It’s about time, Rookie.” Tom steps in front of me, his hand extended.

  I take it, pulling him in for a one-armed hug. “Good to see you, old man.”

  “Glad you're back home, Ace. Even more glad to know you’re in a different type of uniform.”

  “Good to be here.”

  “Any reason it’s taken this long to stop by?” He puts me on the spot.

  “Been busy,” is all I offer.

  “Rich tells me you had some close calls overseas.”

  “We made it through.” I shrug, not wanting to discuss my operations in the Middle East. It doesn’t surprise me Rich shared them with Tom, but the subjects of my missions are mostly classified.

  “Glad to have you back, Marine,” he repeats, squeezing my hand before releasing it. “Met two of these grunts last night. Who’s the other?”

  “Ford.” Ford offers his hand.

  “Rich mentioned you, too. Welcome to the force.”

  There’s a loud roar from the other side of the bar, a half-dozen guys chanting something.

  “Shit, I hope this doesn’t get messy,” Tom complains.

  “What?”

  “Started a ritual a few years ago. When a rookie makes their first arrest, I buy them a drink.”

  “Generous.”

  “Yeah, but this guy’s buddies are hell-bent on getting him plastered. Keep bragging about him being the first rookie in his class to get an arrest.”

  I glance at my three friends and catch the amusement on their faces. Tom doesn’t miss it either, his own expression registering understanding.

  “You beat him, Ace?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What shift?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  He looks over my shoulder, cocking an eyebrow.

  “Second shift on the job. Pulled over a drunk with drugs and an unregistered firearm. Guy was blitzed, and he tried to fight his way past Ace until he found himself incapacitated. Woke up the next day with a wild hangover, and a face only a mother could love after being intimately acquainted with the concrete. Totally FUBAR,” Major fills him in.

  “Shit, you fought him?”

  “Didn’t have to. Once he lunged at me and fell into my fist, he lost balance and went down,” I answer.

  “Who’s your Field Training Officer?”

  “Hal Hanks.”

  “I know him. Bet he loved that.”

  “He may have enjoyed it.”

  “Well, why the hell didn’t
he bring you in here to celebrate?”

  “Wasn’t a big deal.”

  He studies me, a familiar grin forming on his lips. “First drink is on me.”

  “Appreciate it, Tom.”

  “Let’s get you a table.”

  “Actually, we’re headed to the bar.”

  “Nah, you men need space, and the bar’s crowded.”

  “The bar is fine. We’ll make room.”

  His grin goes to a full-out smile, his eyes lighting up. “It’s about time you ‘head to the bar’.” His meaning is clear.

  He leads, taking us to the far side where four stools are empty. In front of them is a folded sign that reads Reserved.

  “I had a feeling I’d need these seats tonight. But hear me now, Ace. I don’t want any trouble. You start shit, you answer to me.”

  “Got it. No shit,” I agree.

  “You’re a fucking terrible liar, boy. Remember that.”

  He slaps me on the shoulder and walks away. I swear I hear the faint sound of whistling as he goes.

  My eyes scan the area, not finding Harley anywhere. I’m thrown off balance, my ass almost sliding off the seat when a weight hits me from the side. Small arms wrap around my waist, and Jewls’ face flashes in view before she buries it in my chest.

  “Hey, Jewls.” I squeeze her neck and kiss the side of her forehead. “Good to see you.”

  She presses back, her bright eyes wide and shining. “So good to see you, Ace.”

  “What about me?” Ford spreads his arms, and she moves into them.

  “She’s in the stockroom. And you can thank me for those seats. I passed up an offer for two hundred dollars saving those.” Jewls turns to me. “You’re also late.”

  “Late for what?”

  “We started our shift at five.”

  There isn’t a chance for me to answer before the catcalls sound out, and all the hair on the back of my neck stands.

  “Oops, I better go help!”

  My eyes stay trained on her as she runs to the end of the bar and Harley comes into view. She’s overloaded with liquor bottles, carefully balancing as she slides them to the edge, and Jewls takes them from her.

  She laughs at something Jewls says, and then her eyes shift to me. There’s a flicker of surprise, her smile spreading as she steps around and comes my way. I do a quick scan over her.

  Relief washes through me that her shirt isn’t nearly as tight or revealing as last night. Her hair is tied on top of her head, the curls escaping in all different directions. There’s a flash of something bright, and I chuckle under my breath when I notice her pink Converses. For all the years, she still loves those shoes.

  “Hi, guys,” she says sweetly. “Did I miss the apocalypse?”

  “Nope,” Ford replies.

  “Did pigs fly?”

  “Not yet.” Major laughs.

  “Did hell freeze over?”

  “Possible,” Talon answers.

  “So, what’s the occasion?” she asks me.

  “It was time to check this place out.”

  “Check it out?”

  “Yeah, heard some great things.”

  She stands in front of me—eyeing me as if she knows what I’m thinking, and looking gorgeous, confident, and absolutely breathtaking.

  Even with the distance between us, I hear her breath hitch and her eyes shimmer. My mask falls and she notices instantly, understanding washing over her features.

  In a flash, she’s in my arms, wrapping herself around me as a small sob escapes. “I’m proud of you, Achilles,” she whispers with a broken voice.

  My heart stops at my given name. No one refers to me as Achilles anymore. I’ve gone by Ace for as long as I can remember. But she never cared, always saying how much she loved Achilles.

  And like the young teenage boy that met her at one of the lowest points of my life, I curl her into my body and allow myself to feel her pureness seeping into me. Her scent invades me, and my body reacts, hauling her tighter.

  “Harley,” is my only response.

  I don’t know how long we stay like this, her in my arms while I memorize the feel of her body pressed close. A throat clears and she lifts her head, one of her curls tickling the edge of my ear. She turns her attention to the guys.

  “Congratulations to all of you.” She aims her full smile at them, and the jealous motherfucker in me wants to cup her head back to my neck and haul her out of here.

  The urge grows when she embraces Ford warmly.

  “Well, look at this shit!” Glen Bates steps into our circle, the stench of beer hitting me hard. “The Casanova Club has finally come out. It’s about time, Rookies!” He sets his eyes on Harley, raking them over her until they land on her ass. An unmistakable hunger fills his expression. “Can I get one of those hugs, pretty lady?”

  Jealousy ricochets to possession, and I stand, putting force into my right side and my bulk pushing him back into a stumble. Major takes my cue, sliding Harley to me, where I tuck her under my arm.

  “Watch where you’re going.” The sloppy grin on Glen’s face turns into a scowl.

  “I was. You were in our space.”

  A quiet hush falls between us, not acknowledging the dumbass. Harley speaks first. “Casanovas?”

  “Stupid nickname,” I answer her lowly, trying not to growl.

  “Oh, that’s right, it’s not discussed.” Glen ignores the rising tension.

  “It’s not discussed because it’s bullshit,” Talon grinds out.

  “The flock of women, the secluded mansion on the hill, the revolving door… You may be a bunch of playboys, but —”

  “I’d be careful how you finish that statement, Glen.” I tighten my hold on Harley, twisting her to me protectively.

  We go into a stare-down, his face heating as his eyes roam over my position and fall on the arm wrapped over her shoulder. My scorching glare tells him everything he needs to know.

  “I wasn’t aware the Casanovas had favorites.”

  “That’s because you don’t know me well enough. But we will get acquainted really quick if you look at her like that again.”

  “We have a problem, Kingston?”

  “Not if you hear what I’m saying… loud and clear.”

  He takes a step back, throwing his hands in the air. “Point made.” He turns to leave.

  “Shit!” I hiss, a searing pain shooting through my abdomen. Harley’s nails dig harder, then twist right before she pushes away.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “What was what?”

  She glares angrily and opens her mouth, no doubt to blast me, when her gaze travels over my shoulder and she jumps into motion. “Crap!” She scampers away, rushing behind the bar to help Jewls. In the few minutes Harley was with us, the crowd increased massively.

  Tom delivers four bottles of beer, waving that he’s got this round, and goes to another group of men waiting to be served. I continue standing, sipping the beer, and observing the room. There are a few servers assigned to tables, but most customers have grouped around the bar. It’s easy to tell why. Harley and Jewls are the center of attention. No matter what, the men all wait patiently for them to approach.

  “Told you she was popular with the crowd,” Talon reminds me.

  “And I told you I’m not surprised.”

  My skin prickles with the familiar sensation of being watched. I spot Glen, surrounded by six other men I recognize, glowering our way. Shot glasses and beer bottles litter the table in front of them. I catch the mixture of bloodshot sheen and anger in his expression.

  Great, he’s drunk and pissed.

  He holds my glare until Harley steps in front of him, cleaning the mess and offering another round. His eyes drop to her, then back to me, licking his lips as an evil grin crosses his mouth. He leans in, places his hand over hers, and says something in her ear.

  She politely slips her hand away, stepping back and pasting on a fake smile. Her body language screams uncomfort
able, and I slam my beer on the bar top so hard the sound echoes enough to get their attention.

  It also catches Tom’s attention because, in less than a second, he’s blocking my view. “No trouble tonight, Ace.”

  “He needs to go.”

  “His buddies already paid the tab. They’re on their way out the door. He’s had his sights on Harley for a while, and tonight, he probably figured out he has no chance. His arrest today added to his already inflated ego.”

  “He’s the one with the arrest?” I snarl, remembering the noise when we walked in.

  “Sure as shit is, been bragging for hours. He couldn’t turn her head. You’re in here less than two minutes and she’s in your arms. I think he knows he’s lost this battle.”

  “If he doesn’t know now, he’ll know next time he touches her.”

  “My advice?”

  I pull my eyes from Glen. “What’s that?”

  “Don’t let your own ego get in the way. There are many more Glens out there looking for their chance.”

  It’s impossible not to catch the meaning in his words. I glance back to Glen, who’s stumbled off his stool and is arguing with the guys trying to gear him toward the door. The thought of him and many like him thinking they have a shot with Harley rolls disgust in my gut. I’ve always considered myself not good enough, but dickheads like him don’t deserve the time of day from her.

  “I will say this, Rich describes you as a man of action with one exception.”

  “I think you’ve figured out the exception,” Major notes matter-of-factly.

  “I’ve known the exception since Ace was eighteen-years-old, but times have changed. I’m looking forward to seeing how this plays out.” Tom jerks his chin and walks away.

  I catch Harley watching us and shaking her head.

  “Why do I think that we’ll be spending at least three nights a week here?” Talon asks no one in particular.

  “Tom might want to put our names on these stools,” Major concludes.

  “Well, since Ace works tomorrow night, I’m on duty.” Ford takes the task with a knowing smirk. “Guess we found our new hang-out.”

  4

  Harley

  This is it… the time I’ll look back on my life and realize ‘Harley, you are officially a stalker.’

  “Maybe we should rethink this.” I try to opt out before it’s too late.