Page 124 of Kings Have No Mercy

Sydney laughs. “So, in other words, you read the whole damn thing.”

I don’t bother fighting off the grin that comes to my face. I snatch the purple book from her hands and set it down on the desk. At the same time, I hook my other arm around her hips and pull her into my lap.

“How could I resist?” I ask, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I wanted to look inside that head of yours.”

“Did you like what you saw?”

I nod. “About as smart allecky and stubborn as hell as I figured.”

“Mace!” She breaks out into more laughter as I squeeze her hips and thighs and press more kisses to her neck.

It’s a while before we go out to the bar floor. What for when we’re having a private celebration of our own?

38

SYDNEY

“Where are we going, Mace?”

“For a ride.”

“For a ride,where?” I ask as he tugs on my hand and leads me outside the Steel Saloon.

It’s late on a Sunday evening, breezier than most summer days in Pulsboro. I was seated at the bar counter brainstorming club activities we could host in the fall when Mason appeared and told me to follow him outside.

He escorts me out to his bike and then opens the top box compartment. First he pulls out what looks like a slim-cut, mini leather vest that he holds up for me to see.

I eye him warily. “Mace, that looks about three sizes too small for you.”

“Not for me.” He thrusts the vest into my hands.

It takes me another second to understand that it’s supposed to be mine.

The size of the vest really should’ve been the first giveaway—it’s a third the length of his, designed to stop just below the bust. The other clue is in its width, clearly meant for someone with narrower shoulders.

I look up from the vest and at Mason. “This… is for me?”

He grins. “Your own cut. You’re an honorary King. An honorary…Queen. Turn it over.”

My heartbeat gathers speed as I turn over the mini leather vest in my hands and then gasp at the rocker stitched into the fabric. The Steel Kings logo is in the middle with its steel skull and crown and then beneath that is my name.

Steel Queen.

“Mason,” I choke out. I blink many times, staring in shock at the vest. “You can’t be serious. This is a joke. You’re fucking with me.”

“Not fucking with you. It’s yours. You’re my old lady, which makes you head old lady, which makes you a King.”

“Which makes me a Queen,” I answer with a surprised giggle.

His grin lights up his handsome face and makes me want to kiss him all over. I do as I launch myself at him, looping my arms around his neck and squeezing him as tightly as you can a man made of muscle like Mason.

He holds me, the two of us swaying in place. “Put it on. Grab your helmet. I was serious when I said we’re going for a ride.”

I hurry to do as he says. I slide on the mini leather vest—which happens to fit me to the letter—and I yank on the helmet he’s got me.

He mounts first, positioning his powerful body on his powerful steel beast. I slide in behind him and hold on for dear life.

We take off in a ferocious roar that draws the attention of the men standing outside the Chop Shop next door. They hoot and holler and cheer us on as we speed by.

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