Embracing His Syn (7 page)

Syn stayed at the speed limit on his
way home, he was in no rush. Work had been productive. Meeting
after meeting and mounds of paperwork. God had officially
introduced him to their team as third in command, so technically he
was a Sergeant now and hopefully his pay would reflect that
promotion soon. The guys were an easy group to command, each of
them the best in his specialty.

The first half of the day
was spent with the team getting him up to speed on their current
cases. He wasn’t afraid to jump right in and take charge. It’s what
Syn did best. Managing and controlling situations. He wasn’t
nervous about calling the Detectives out on their bullshit and vice
versa. The laid-back-say-what’s-on-your-mind-no-hard-feelings
camaraderie was simple to adjust to. Syn’s feelings weren’t easily
hurt so he had no problem with God’s tough-as-nails attitude or
Day’s snide remarks. Simply put: you had to have skin as tough as a
rhino to survive on this task force. Now it was evening and after
listening to God and Day heatedly dispute how they were going to
prioritize the next two cases, Syn and several other members had
eased out quietly when the looks between them began to turn less
angry and more hungry. He shook his head and secretly wished he
could be a fly on the wall in their bedroom tonight.
What the hell? No I don’t.

Syn needed to get laid,
but he couldn’t get tattooed arms and long, soft brown hair out of
his head. Strong, lean body mixed with soft features.
Jesus, fuck.
Syn had to
admit the sexy bartender did look like his ex-roommate. When Syn
had graduated from the Philadelphia police academy he’d chosen to
apply to a ‘roommate wanted’ ad posted in the officers' break room.
Nothing ever came of him and Rhodes but damn if there weren’t some
pretty intense glances and quick touches. Rhodes was gay and made
sure that Syn knew he was wanted by the big man. Syn was just too
afraid to tell his roommate exactly what he wanted Rhodes to do to
him.

It was Friday night and he didn’t have
anywhere to be. He wasn’t overly eager to go to his barely
furnished apartment and order takeout. He’d thought about taking
some of the guys up on their offer to meet at a bar called Henry’s,
but he doubted he’d make it there. He actually had another bar in
mind tonight. Rather, another bartender.

Syn heaved a sigh as
another car sped past him.
Okay, that lady
was like ninety years old.
He pressed down
on the accelerator and moved to snag a spot right in front of his
building. Syn checked his watch, it was five minutes after eight,
just enough time to go inside and take a quick shower.

Syn had on a tight, black t-shirt with
dark blue jeans. He typically didn’t do anything with his dark
brown hair; he kept it cut close on the sides and simply
finger-combed the length on top. He could probably use a shave, but
decided to let the two-day old growth alone. Syn tucked his Glock
37 in his waistband, always feeling comforted by the weight of his
weapon nestled snugly against the base of his spine. He tucked his
handcuffs, wallet and his badge in his inside coat pocket and
headed for the door. As soon as he exited he saw his neighbor
coming down the hall toward him with a pizza box in his hand,
flanked by two other guys that looked like metal-head
stoners.

Syn had been meaning to talk with the
young punk about his loud, head-cringing music blasting at all
hours of the night.

“
What up, man?” The stoner
threw a limp hand up at him with his greeting.

Syn looked at his neighbor and just
managed to not roll his eyes before responding. “Yeah, hey. Uh, I
wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind keeping the music down after
midnight. I’m sure a lot of your neighbors feel the same
way.”

The stoner and his friends looked at
Syn as if he had horns before they all cracked up.

“
I haven’t heard any
complaints dude, and besides, I was here first. You just moved in,”
his neighbor argued weakly.

“
What the fuck does that
have to do with anything?” Syn gritted his teeth, his patience
diminishing rapidly.

“
Everything,” Stoner
hissed, stepping into to Syn’s face.

This has got to be a
goddamn joke. He wants to fight now.
Syn
did roll his eyes this time. “Look. I don’t have time for this
bullshit. Keep the fucking music down or I’ll haul your high ass in
for disturbing the peace.” Syn flipped his gold badge out and felt
smug when the stoner’s friends sobered and turned their backs on
him, retreating quietly into the apartment.

“
Sure.
Officer
,” Stoner spat the word
‘officer’ in the most disrespectful tone he could muster and bumped
Syn’s shoulder while moving past him into his apartment.

Syn was sure he heard a
murmured
‘
fucking
pig’
before his neighbor’s door slammed
shut in his face. He wasn’t going to let that little exchange ruin
his mood. He should be celebrating tonight. He was just hired by
the Atlanta PD and promoted into the most revered task force in the
Eastern U.S. People would know his name. He’d be set apart from his
family's legacy, creating his own. Syn was due some congratulatory
pats on the back and some hot sex. Soulful midnight eyes and a
thick accent popped into his mind almost causing Syn to
stumble.

Syn jogged across the three lane
street and needed a couple of calming breaths as he stood staring
at the heavy wooden door to the pub. Hell, why was his heart racing
in the first place? He looked up and down at the many bars and
restaurants on his street. The crowd was already bustling with
pre-weekend excitement. Syn straightened his spine and pushed the
door open. He stepped into the loud dark environment, taking a
brief look around at the crowd before making his way to the bar. He
took a seat close to where he’d sat yesterday and tried to be
discreet while looking for his favorite bartender.

Syn only saw the big man
from last night who had called the bartender ‘Furious’ and two
female bartenders dressed in the bar's official t-shirt along with
short, kilt-like skirts and platform shoes. He tried not to be
disappointed, but felt it slowly creeping in. Syn completely turned
around on his stool and scanned the dance floor and its surrounding
tables.
Maybe he works the floor
too.
Syn didn’t see him. Fuck, goddamnit,
his mysterious friend was off tonight, probably out getting a
shit-load of attention elsewh–”

“
Looking for someone?”
Rich, deep, mellow sexiness stroked its way down Syn’s back like a
lover’s caress.

Oh God.
Syn slowly spun his seat back around and locked
onto those dark chocolate pools that were Furi’s eyes. The
bartender was looking at him like he’d just discovered all of Syn’s
secrets. All his wants. All his deepest desires ...
fuck
. All of his kinks.
Syn wanted to bolt at the feeling of being exposed, but he held
fast. Furi blinked at him and it broke Syn’s trance.

Shit. Furi had asked him a
question.

“
No,” Syn answered
quickly, wincing at the excitement in his voice. He took a breath
before speaking again. “I’m not looking for anyone.”

“
You sure?” Furi smirked.
He wiped at some non-existent liquid on the bar and tossed a napkin
in front of him. “What’ll it be, Chief?”

Here we go with the
nicknames again. God I just want to hear him say it once. Is that
too much to fuckin’ ask?
Syn smoothed his
hand over his stubble. “Sure uh, let me get a double shot of
Maker's with a Corona.”

Furi didn’t move or acknowledge his
order. He just stared. So Syn stared back. Damn this man was
something. Tattoos every damn where, peeking out where clothes
ended, visible even through the rips in his jeans. Hair looking so
soft and beautiful. His lips pink and plump like a woman's but Syn
was sure that the prickly stubble wouldn’t feel like kissing a
woman. It would feel like ... hell, he didn’t know. Furi’s arms
were braced on the bar, the veins in his arms protruding with the
muscles twitching just beneath the surface of his inked skin. Now
it was Syn’s turn to display a little confidence.

“
Start a tab. I might be
here for a while ... Furious.” Syn said the man’s name slowly.
Letting it play across his lips for size. Syn liked the startled
look that flashed across his new friend’s face. It seemed he liked
his name on Syn’s lips, sounding sexy and dirty.

Furi quickly looked around to see if
anyone else was paying attention to their stare-off. He pulled at
his hair and turned around without a comeback. Furious didn’t seem
as cocky as he had at the bus stop last night.

Syn watched him for a few seconds
while he took and filled a couple more orders His back was turned
and Syn tried to get a look at the view hidden behind the bar, but
was distracted by a loud knocking coming from the other end of the
pub. He turned to look but the crowd was thick, and all he could
see was a rambunctious group over by the pool tables and dart
boards. Looked like college kids. The loud pounding and chanting
sounded again.

“
Tommy! Tommy! Tommy!” The
small crowd chanted and banged what must be beer mugs on the wooden
tables.

“
What the
fuck?”

Syn turned back around and saw his
drinks were in front of him and so was Furious.

Louder knocking and
yelling.

“
What the hell is that?”
The big man – Syn assumed now was the owner – emerged from behind
double doors that probably led to the kitchen. “What is that damn
noise, Furious?”

Syn watched Furious close his eyes
with obvious annoyance and wipe his cloth across the bar in front
of him. Furious shrugged but the stout owner didn’t see it because
he was still trying to see over his customers' heads into the dark
corner. This time the knocking was louder than the
music.

The big guy put his hand on Furious’
shoulder and spun him around to face him. “Furi, what the fuck is
that knocking?”

“
Hell if I know, Unc. It
sure as fuck ain’t opportunity,” Furious yelled back.

Syn choked on his beer laughing at
Furious’ witty comeback. When Furious shrugged off his uncle’s
grasp and turned back around, he stared down at a still chuckling
Syn and shook his head. Syn saw a smile crack the man’s supple lips
and before Syn knew it he’d winked at him.

“
Well they need to calm
down. People are leaving,” the uncle said. “Go tell them to knock
it off.”

Syn watched Furious lower his head. He
couldn’t make out what Furious was mumbling but it didn’t look like
he was chanting a calming mantra. Furious threw the towel on the
floor and made his way to the end of the bar. He lifted the bar top
and slammed it back down when he’d passed through.

“
I’ll show you where you
can put that attitude Furi,” his uncle added, irritating Furi
further.

Furious disappeared into the crowd. He
must’ve made it to the rowdy kids and said something because the
knocking stopped briefly before starting up again, only now it was
even louder. Syn heard some yelling, then some 'oohhs' and 'ahhhs',
which was never good to hear in a rowdy crowd. It typically meant
someone was getting told off.

Syn couldn’t see Furious
at all, regardless of his six foot one height. He abandoned his
seat and made his way through the crowd. Syn felt the shift as he
was pushed back with others. Fuck, someone was shoving or fighting.
He still couldn’t see. People were gathering in to get closer to
the angry shouts.
This is not what I came
here for.
He could finally see Furious
nose-to-nose with some preppy guy in a green polo shirt and khaki
shorts. His spiky, gelled hair and boy-next-door looks screamed
spoiled-rich-college-boy. They were cursing in each other’s faces
and Syn was just about to intervene when a thick arm came around
Furious’ neck from behind and preppy punched him in the stomach.
The pain that flashed across Furious’ face had Syn feeling a
burning rage that jolted him into action. He barreled through the
last few bodies in his way and took determined steps, using his
momentum to nail Furious’ captor in the ribs with a hard right jab.
The man bowled over, almost taking Furious to the floor with
him.