The little bell above the door announced a new arrival, and the table broke out into whistles and catcalls as Mason walked in wearing a snug black tank top, beach shorts, and sandals.

  “Woo-hoo, look at those legs,” Ace teased.

  Mason did a quick scan of the café before flipping Ace off. He moved his aviators to his head. “Bunch of comedians.”

  “Beach bum looks good on you,” Red said, his attention seized by Laz nudging him gently in the ribs. Laz motioned to Lucky, and Red held back a knowing smile. Lucky was blatantly checking Mason out, which was nothing new, but when his gaze landed on Mason’s bulging biceps, he licked his lips. Lucky was practically drooling on the remaining half of his Cuban sandwich.

  “Where are you off to?” Colton asked. The rest of them chuckled when Ace cleared his throat and Lucky snapped his eyes from Mason’s chest to his face, his cheeks going pink.

  Mason dropped his gaze to Lucky, who quickly sat forward and started to eat again. “The beach. I’ve finally got a day off, and I’m making the most of it. Well, damn, what’s that?” He pointed across the room, and Lucky followed his finger, allowing Mason the chance to swipe a bunch of fries and stuff them into his mouth.

  “¡Ay, Cabrón!” Lucky poked Mason’s side, making the big man laugh around his mouthful of fries and twist his body to get away from Lucky.

  “Mm, those are good.” Mason pulled over a chair to the end of the table, angling it toward Lucky. “You gonna eat those, or you watching that pretty figure of yours?”

  Lucky let out a snort. “You really think you can sweet-talk your way into getting my fries?”

  Red had a feeling Mason could sweet-talk his way into more than Lucky’s fries if Lucky let him. These two couldn’t possibly be so oblivious. The attraction between them was palpable, yet neither man made a move.

  “Come on, baby. Just one more,” Mason said, his voice a low rumble.

  Lucky smacked Mason’s hand away from his plate. “No, get your own. And while you’re at it, get some sleeves for that shirt.”

  Mason flexed his arm, a little smirk coming onto his lips when Lucky’s eyes dropped to his bicep and widened. “But if I had sleeves, you couldn’t see that muscle right there.” Mason poked at his bicep. “You want to touch it?”

  “No,” Lucky scoffed before biting down on a French fry.

  “Come on, Lucky,” Mason purred, adding a wink. “You know you want to touch it.”

  “Do you want to maybe say that a little louder? I don’t think the people across town heard you,” Lucky hissed, shaking his head in shame at Mason, only to have Mason swipe another fry. He was pretty damn quick for such a big guy.

  “What? I’m just talking about my arm.”

  “Sigue, que te voy a dar un cocotazo.”

  “I don’t know what you just said, but it sounded like it might hurt, and not in a good way.”

  Ace snickered, and Laz leaned in to whisper in Red’s ear while Mason continued to torment Lucky.

  “Are they sleeping together?”

  Red shook his head before replying, “No. I’m thinking they really wish they were.”

  Before Red could elaborate, Bibi came out of the kitchen, beaming brightly when she saw Mason.

  “Hey, Cowboy!”

  “Hey, Bibi.” Mason got up and hugged her. “Nash around? He left me a message saying he wanted to talk to me about something, but when I tried calling him a few times, I got no answer.”

  Bibi rolled her eyes. “Mr. Smooth Operator dropped his phone in the fryer, so he’s off getting a replacement.”

  Red cringed. “Ooh, how’d that happen?”

  “Hm, let me see.” Bibi put a finger to her lips in thought before turning and smacking Ace upside the head.

  “Ouch! What the hell, Bibi?” Ace rubbed the back of his head, his eyes narrowed. “How is this my fault?”

  “Oh, that’s right. Nash dropped his phone because I walked in on him texting twinkle-tush over here about his next joyride on Lucky love-muffin’s death machine.”

  Ace frowned up at her. “Why does Lucky get to be love-muffin, and I’m stuck with twinkle-tush?”

  “Quiet, you. I can’t believe you’re still letting him go out on that thing.”

  “Still?” Ace gaped at her. “How long have you known?”

  “Please. I knew from day one. Like you two can hide anything from anyone with your little man-giggles every time you get together.”

  The table erupted in laughter, and King held his fist out to his sister, receiving a fist-bump from her.

  Ace turned to Colton, his pout fierce. “Aren’t you going to defend my honor?”

  Colton turned his head up to smile at Bibi. “Tell me more about these man-giggles.”

  “Ooh, my heart,” Ace wheezed, putting his fist to his heart as if he’d been struck.

  Red wiped a tear from his eye. He’d so called that one. Ignoring Ace, Bibi turned to Mason.

  “Nash was calling because a cousin of his is going to Texas to spend some time on a ranch, and he knows you used to work on one, so Nash thought you could give his cousin some tips.”

  Lucky straightened suddenly. He looked like someone had just kicked him. Turning to Bibi, he asked. “Is that Oscar?”

  Bibi nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Why?”

  Lucky stood so fast his chair made a loud screeching sound across the floor. “I need to go. Ace, your turn to pay.” He marched off, slamming through the door so hard the little bell smacked the wall above it.

  “What just happened?” Bibi asked, confused and concerned.

  “I’ll go check on him,” Mason said, hurrying off after Lucky, who’d snatched his helmet off his bike.

  “Shit.” Ace shook his head. “Goddamn it.”

  “What is it, Ace? What did I say?”

  “Oscar.”

  Bibi shrugged. “Yeah, so what?”

  “Oscar and Mason hooked up in one of the back rooms at Frank’s. They ran into Lucky on their way out after doing whatever they got up to. Oscar seemed really interested. My guess is Nash is trying to set Oscar up with Mason. That’s why he was calling. He’s just using the whole ranch thing as an in for Oscar.”

  Bibi’s eyes went huge. “Oh my God, I had no idea. Oscar was in here last week. We were hanging out, and he was talking to Nash a lot. I thought it was about his trip.”

  Outside, it suddenly got loud, and they turned their attention to the window. Mason had just grabbed Lucky’s arm and jerked him around to face him. It didn’t take a lip reader to know that Lucky was giving it to Mason with both barrels, and Mason was giving it right back. Both of them were flushed, their hackles obviously up, and Lucky was so pissed he was practically vibrating.

  Mason thrust a finger in Lucky’s face and growled something that made Lucky flinch. Ace was out of his chair, his protective instincts clearly kicking in.

  “Sit down, Ace,” King said firmly but gently. “Lucky’s gotta work this out for himself.”

  With a heavy sigh, Ace dropped back down into his chair.

  It was painful to watch. Lucky shoved Mason away and said something that had Mason pressing his lips together in a thin line, his muscles bunched, and his hands balled into fists at his sides.

  “I don’t understand,” Laz said. “They clearly want each other. Why are they fighting it so hard?”

  “It’s never going to work out,” Ace said, his frown deep and his green eyes filled with worry. “I know them. They’re both a couple of explosive hotheads with serious commitment issues.”

  “But how long can they keep this up?” Laz asked worriedly. “It’s got to hurt.”

  Red squeezed him close and kissed the top of his head. “All we can do is be there for them.”

  The thunderous roar of Lucky’s motorcycle filled the air, the tires kicking up dirt as he turned that beast of a machine and took off, leaving Mason standing in a cloud of dust, staring after him.

  Colton put his hand on Ace’s shoulder. “Go check on him.”

  “I’ll be right back.” Ace kissed Colton before heading outside to Mason. At least both Lucky and Mason had friends and family to support them through this mess. Whatever the hell was going on between those two, it had been building for months, and Red was growing concerned, because at some point, all that steam would erupt, and when it did, Red feared the fallout.

  Ace spent some time outside with Mason, and when he came back in, it was just to apologize and say his goodbyes. He was clearly worried about his cousin, and his friend, and that made everyone else worry, because no one knew Lucky and Mason like Ace did.

  They all sat around chatting some more, and then everyone went their separate ways.

  Red drove himself and Laz home, and later that evening they stood out on the balcony together to watch the sunset.

  Red wrapped his arms around Laz from behind and nuzzled his temple. They watched the blues of the sky turn to golds and oranges. Other than the sounds of the waves and occasional seagull, stillness surrounded them. Peace washed over Red, and he let out a contented sigh.

  Like the ocean outside their balcony, Red’s life would always be filled with storms and rough waters. It was part of who he was. He’d never thought he would find the person for him, that special someone who would take his hand and stand on the pier with him, facing the darkness and turmoil until the clouds parted and the brilliant sun shone once again.

  Until Laz.

  Now he had Laz in his arms, he had no intention of ever letting go. As if sensing his thoughts, Laz turned and snuggled close, laying his head on Red’s chest over his heart. An image of Pip, one of Red’s fallen brothers-in-arms popped into his head and made him smile. Pip had dubbed him the king of hearts. Well, the only heart he wanted to be the king of belonged to the man in his arms, the king of his heart.

  Check out Lucky and Mason’s story, Join the Club, the third book in the Four Kings Security series.

  Join the Club

  Synopsis

  Eduardo “Lucky” Morales is a fighter, from his childhood days in Cuba to his time as a Special Forces Green Beret. Scarred by the wars of his past, Lucky has learned nothing lasts forever. Guarding his heart is second nature, and getting emotionally involved is not an option. As co-owner of Four Kings Security, Lucky works hard alongside his former brothers-in-arms and fellow Kings, but he also plays hard. Flirting with sexy Texas cowboy and detective, Mason Cooper, is too much fun to resist, until Mason turns the tables on him.

  Mason Cooper may not be a soldier, but he’s fought his share of battles as an openly gay cop and now a detective for Major Crimes. Mason has no idea when things changed between him and Lucky, but the gorgeous, fiery Cuban has turned his world upside down. When a mistake leads to his suspension from the force, Mason turns to the least likely person for help: Ward Kingston.

  Determined to keep Mason at arms’ length, Lucky is surprised to find the man at Four Kings Security. The Florida nights might be getting cooler, but the heat between Lucky and Mason burns hotter with every passing moment. Working private security can be dangerous and unpredictable, but so can falling in love.

  Chapter 1

  It’ll be okay.

  Lies.

  It would not be okay. He wasn’t okay.

  “Fuck. Fuck.” Lucky tightened his hold on the mini-ape handlebar grips of his Harley-Davidson Road King Special. He knew better than to drive when pissed off, so he forced himself to focus on his bike and the road instead of his anger. Ace was probably annoyed with him. Definitely worried. His cousin worried about him too much. His family was always concerned about him for one reason or another.

  Tienes que calmarte, Eduardo.

  How many times had he heard those words from his parents, from members of his family? As if by them telling him to calm down, he would somehow change his ways. Make him less… him. There was nothing wrong with him. It had taken him years to realize who he was and longer to accept himself. Did his family not see that their blood ran through his veins? They were all as dramatic and hotheaded. But he refused to play by the rules, always had, and that made him problemático. Difficult. He was not difficult. Complicated, yes. Certainly that. His life was especially complicated now, thanks to a certain blue-eyed, fair-haired cowboy.

  Lucky clenched his jaw at the memories of that sinful son of a bitch. He still felt Mason’s touch on his hand, those calloused fingers pressed gently against Lucky’s palm, his thumb stroking Lucky’s skin. Soft expressions of comfort had slipped from Mason’s full mouth, the words unexpected, the gentleness more so.

  “Look at me.”

  Stupidly, Lucky had.

  “Well, damn, aren’t you pretty. I know the timing is for shit, but how come I never noticed before?”

  Lucky shouldn’t have listened. Why didn’t he get out of the car? He should have gotten out of the car. The padding of his motorcycle helmet against his jaw had his brain conjuring up the memory of Mason’s thumb on his cheek before it slowly traveled lower to Lucky’s bottom lip. All Lucky had to do was part his lips. What would Mason have done? Would he have slipped his thumb inside Lucky’s mouth? On instinct, Lucky ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Mason had leaned in, but Lucky managed to get ahold of himself. More like fear had taken hold of him and forced him to take action.

  Few things frightened Lucky, but at that moment, he’d been terrified of the gorgeous cowboy and the unexpected feelings the man stirred up inside him, feelings he’d managed to avoid just fine until then. Forever was not a word he associated with relationships. Family was forever. His brotherhood was forever. Everyone else in his life came and went like the tide.

  Fuck Mason Cooper.

  And fuck this heat! Florida in August was un infierno. Ninety-two degrees, but the humidity made it a hundred and five. With his motorcycle moving, it was fine, but every time he stopped, the sweat dripped down his back, making the Balmain jersey T-shirt beneath his graphite Mojave motorcycle jacket stick to his back. He might have thundered away from the café like a bat out of hell, but he wasn’t stupid. Not even his temper could make him ignore safety. It was ingrained into him. He approached riding his motorcycle like he did sex. No matter the circumstances, he didn’t ride without protection. First chance he had, he’d pulled his jacket and gloves from his saddlebag and slipped them on. He’d worn his DSquared2 Blue Simplice city biker jeans and his Bowery distressed leather boots from Frye.

  In the right saddlebag, he carried his Kings equipment, including a locked compartment with his Glock, and in the left saddlebag, he had a wardrobe change and a small cooler with two bottles of icy water. He’d planned on hanging out with his brothers, but that plan went to shit fast.

  The sudden appearance of a moving object to his right had his adrenaline spiking and his body reacting on instinct. He swerved into the empty oncoming traffic turning lane to avoid getting plowed into by a silver BMW. Lucky hit the brakes, turned off his engine, and lowered the kickstand before he pulled off his helmet. The driver skidded to a stop beside him, and the window slid down to reveal a white-haired man, somewhere in his midfifties, in a business suit. He glared at Lucky as if he’d been the one to fuck up.

  “You need to slow down, buddy.”

  “What?” The balls on this guy. “I wasn’t speeding, and you ran the stop sign.” He thrust a finger toward the unobstructed red sign the man had clearly ignored. “That’s how innocent people die.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you should learn how to speak English.”

  The fuck? Lucky straightened. “What does how I speak have to do with anything? And last time I checked, I am speaking English.” Tienes que calmarte, Eduardo. Okay, this would be one of those times where he did need to calm down. Assholes like this weren’t new to him. Take the high road. That’s what King always said. Be the better man.

  BMW Douchebag looked him over, his lip curling up in a sneer. “I can barely understand you.”

  “That’s your problem, not mine.” Maybe his accent was thick, but he always did his best to speak as clearly as possible, and it was rare someone didn’t understand him. English wasn’t his first language, and it didn’t help that he’d started learning the language fourteen years after everyone else his age. It hadn’t been easy, and even now many words and phrases confused him, but he continued to learn and improve because America was his home. His country.

  The man snorted. “Um, no. You’re the immigrant.”

  “Excuse me? I’m an American citizen.” Lucky didn’t call the guy an asshole, but his tone implied it. He was not in the mood for this.

  “Yeah, but you’re not a real American. You don’t belong here.”

  “You almost killed me, and you’re going to come at me with your racist bullshit?”

  “I’m not racist.”

  Lucky’s eyebrows shot up near his hairline. “Um, yes, you are.”

  “I don’t think I like your tone.”

  Lucky couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh shit, is this guy for real? Are you for real right now?”

  “Go back to Mexico,” the guy spat out. “You’re not welcome here.”

  “One, I’m fucking Cuban. Two, you’re a racist piece of shit.”

  “Mexican, Cuban, Puerto Rican. It’s all the same shit. You should all go back to your countries and stop fucking up ours.”

  Lucky peered at him. “Are you high right now?” He held up three fingers. “Tell me, how many fingers do you see?”

  “What?”

  Lucky put down two, leaving the middle one up. “How about now?”

  “Fuck you!” The guy hit the accelerator, flipping off Lucky as he tore down the road.

  “¡Vete con la puta madre que te parió, pendejo!”

  The car skidded to a halt, then started to reverse. If the asshole wanted to start something, Lucky was in a damn good mood for it. He got off his bike, and marched toward the car, pulling off his gloves as he went. “You want a piece of me, motherfucker?” Seeming to have second thoughts, the guy burned rubber and took off.