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“How did Mr. Smooth fuck up so badly?” I tease, and the fucker punches me.
“What? We all know Knight can’t handle rejection.”
“It’s more than that. Knight has a type. Give him a scared little bird with a broken wing and he’ll pop a hard on before he can blink. You know what it is, don’t you? Knight got his name from having a hero complex. He likes to ride in and save the day, but that woman isn’t the type that will ever need saving, and he doesn’t know what to do with that,” Eightball jokes.
“Shut up, motherfucker.”
I turn when I hear our order being called and walk over to collect it, thankful I brought my saddlebags. “Come on, let’s take this back to the clubhouse. Mercy was looking forward to this, and I don’t want to be on her shit list because she missed out.”
* * *
I wipe my mouth and toss the napkin on the table, smirking at Mercy as she rubs her stomach.
“I’m so full I don’t think I can walk, but it was worth it.”
She leans her head against Wizz’s shoulder as her eyes slip closed.
“You tired?” he murmurs to her.
“No, just in a food coma.”
I laugh at her as the door opens and a few of the club girls walk in.
Mercy opens her eyes and spots them, a sigh escaping her lips before she paints on a fake smile. “Hey ladies, need something?”
“Just some big dick,” Ginger announces, making a beeline toward me.
“Hey, Splinter, you up for a little fun?”
“Not right now, Ginger.”
I push her hands away and glance around at the other guys at the table. Bunnies are draped all over them, with the exception of Wizz, Scope, and Kaz.
“Yay, dinner and a show, awesome,” Mercy mutters.
Ginger tries to lean down and kiss me, but I shove her away. “I said no. Now fuck off.”
She falls back into Knight’s lap and wraps her arms around his neck. “Hey, baby, you’ll play with me, won’t you?” she breathes out in a babyish tone that grates on me.
I grab my trash and get up, walking it over to the kitchen. I toss it in the garbage and turn, finding Mercy behind me doing the same. She looks back to the room she just left before her shoulders drop and she heads off in the other direction.
“Hey, Mercy?”
She turns to look at me.
“You want to do some target practice out back?”
Her eyes light up. “Yes! You want me to go and grab my gun, or are you going to let me play with one of yours?”
I grin at her excitement. “I’m sure I have a couple you can play with. I’ll meet you outside. Oh, and Mercy?”
“Yeah?”
“If you ever want to talk, I’m here. I might not be a woman, but I know how to listen.”
She swallows. And I swear for a minute, a sheen of tears dampens her eyes, but it’s gone before I can question it.
“Thanks, Splinter.”
