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“My man is sneaky. He tells Scope just the right amount of truth for it to work. Yes, he uses me, but whatever he wants will keep me safe, one way or another, because he wouldn’t lie about that.”
“Like the time he bought us all PlayStations and Call of Duty so we could practice our shooting?” I grin, remembering that.
Mercy rolls her eyes. “He’s not that dumb. He wanted a PlayStation just like everyone else. I just think one would have been enough.”
“Yeah, but then he would have to share you with the brothers more often, and you know damn well Scope wouldn’t be able to cope with that unless you were sitting on his dick while you played,” Kaz growls, biting her ear.
He’s not joking. I still have no idea how the three of them make it work—Scope’s level of possessiveness is off the charts. If Mercy wasn’t just as obsessed with the man, I don’t know what would happen. I doubt there is a place on this planet where he wouldn’t find her.
Mercy stands, and Kaz gets up, his hands on her hips. With a nod to us all, he wraps his arm tightly around her before turning to leave.
“Night, guys.”
“Night, Mercy,” we all reply as Eightball reaches for the deck of cards and starts shuffling.
“Another game?”
“Sure. I need to win some of my money back.”
“I’m out. I need to stop by the shop.” Menace, our resident ink slinger, groans, standing up and stretching.
“You alright?” I frown at the grimace on his face.
“Yeah, I had a large back piece today. Took nine hours. I’ve still got some shading and shit to do, but it will be sick when it’s done. My back is wrecked, though. I’m gonna grab a water from the bar and pop some pills or I won’t be able to move later.”
“Getting old is fun, right?” I tease him as he flips me off.
“Piss off. You’re older than I am, motherfucker.”
“Trust me, I know. Gone are the days of downing my bike and walking away with barely a scratch. Now all I have to do is roll over in my sleep wrong, and I’m throwing my back out.”
Everyone laughs, the older guys adding in their two cents worth of agreement as Menace taps the table and stands.
Everyone quiets down once Eightball finishes dealing. I stare at my cards just as a commotion near the bar pulls my attention. I watch as Boomer slams Peep’s head into the bar before pinning him in place.
Spoons is standing close by, his hands fisted at his sides as he fights the urge to jump in, but a prospect laying hands on a brother will get his ass kicked out in a heartbeat.
When Boomer slams Peep face down again, I stand up.
“What the fuck is his problem?” Eightball snarls beside me.
I don’t answer, keeping my eyes on Peep and his bloody face as I make my way over to the scene. Just as Boomer is about to slam Peep’s face into the counter again, I grab his arm, halting his movements. Eightball yanks the prospect out of his grasp. I hear the rest of the brothers drawing closer, the threat of violence always stirring up everyone with anticipation. Boomer pulls from my grasp and storms away, shoving through the crowd.
“What the fuck was that about?” Eightball asks.
Peep looks up and takes the napkins offered to him, pressing them against his nose. “Nothing. I said something I shouldn’t have. It was my fault.”
I drop it, knowing there is more to it. But unless he speaks up, there is nothing I can do.
“Door’s open if you need me, man,” I offer.
He nods before walking gingerly around the bar.
“One day, he’s going to push too fucking far,” Menace complains, twisting the cap off a bottle of water.
“Tell me about it.”
“His dad came up with the mother chapter for a visit. I swear he’s ten times worse whenever he sees Knuckles,” Menace explains, swallowing down two pain killers before finishing off his drink, tossing the empty bottle in the trash.
