Tastes Like Candy

Twenty-Eight

 

Twenty-Eight

Candy

"Hey, man." He slapped palms with Mercy and pulled the guy in for a quick bro-hug (bro-hugs were totally macho and acceptable, a long-standing belief in the MC world). When he pulled back, he said, "Uh, not that I'm not always glad to see you, brother..."

Mercy grinned and rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I get it." He tilted his head toward the British reunion taking place across the room. "The kids showed up at Walsh's place, and were dead set on riding out here. Things are quiet back home, and I offered to ride out with 'em. Figured you could use an extra set of hands when the cartel shit goes down."

"I'll never say no to extra hands." His eyes went to Michelle, again. She'd already leapt onto Tommy and squeezed the life out of him, was finally hugging the other one now, Miles. Since they were her uncles, her blood relatives, her family, for Christ's sakes, the sight did not stir any jealousy inside him. Nope. Not at all. Not even a tiny, tiny bit that left him frowning.

He turned back to Mercy. "You coulda called ahead, though."

Mercy grinned. "But that defeats the purpose of a surprise."

Candy sighed. "They really came all the way here, huh?" And his traitorous eyes returned to the three reunited relatives again.

All of Devin Green's bastard brood had a certain similarity about their eyes, that direct way they could look right through a person. Michelle had inherited it, too. But they were their own men and women, as well, each with some of their mother's facial quirks. Tommy, in tight jeans and battered leather jacket beneath his cut, looked like a modernized fifties greaser. Miles, thin and pretty, with his neck tattoo and flannel shirt, could have been a hipster in another life.

"Tommy said he was on the phone with her a few nights ago," Mercy said, "and it sounded like she got scared." He sent Candy a look that was questioning, but not accusatory. Just curious. "Said he was tired of secondhand information and wanted to check on her for himself."

"Hmm."

Michelle had her demanding face on. Tommy hiked up his shirt to show her a healing white scar along his ribs, and she ghosted her fingers across it, brows knitting together. He swatted her away and lowered his shirt, said something that made her laugh.

"I've never seen her smile like that," Candy said, mostly to himself.

"She hasn't had a chance to miss you yet," Mercy said, and it sounded like a consolation.

"Yeah."

It was time to introduce himself. He put a little extra swagger into his stride for effect, and joined his girl.

Tommy and Miles lifted their heads to look up at him. Up – that was nice. And the smiles slipped. A glance proved that Miles was just the tagalong here, without personal opinions cluttering his mind. Tommy was the real sticking point.

The guy's face – Candy saw Albie in him, in that moment – went carefully blank. But his eyes sparked, that eerie blue they all shared, boiling with challenge. He was caught between a superior – a patch-holding VP and an acting-president – and his emotional reaction. Candy was curious to see which would win out: respect, or anger.

"You boys came a long way," Candy said, shaking their hands.

Tommy squeezed a little harder than was polite, and Candy wanted to grin, for some reason.

"Yeah," he said. "We did."

"Does Phil know you're here?"

Tommy's eyes widened, his nostrils flared. Oh, you're going there? he seemed to ask.