Chapter 18 Cash
CASH
After thanking Josie, we step out onto the street. Mercy is practically bouncing beside me, some of that weight finally lifting.
“Did you hear her, Cash? I’m going to be free.” She spins in a little circle that makes her cut flare out. “Actually free. No more looking over my shoulder. No more—”
“No more pretending you don’t want to jump me every time I walk into Devil’s,” I tease.
“That part was already decided when I accepted this.” She tugs at her cut, and I grin. “God help you the next time you take off your shirt and start ‘accidentally’ flexing while restocking the beer cooler.”
“Flexing? That’s just how I look while using a proper lifting technique.”
“That’s thirst-trap technique.” She mimics an exaggerated flex. “Oh no, this keg is so heavy, better make sure everyone can see my biceps—”
“My biceps are magnificent,” I protest. “Ask anyone.”
“Your ego is magnificent.”
I pull her close, one hand sliding down to grab her ass through her jeans as I kiss her hard enough to make her gasp. She melts into me, still laughing against my mouth, her hands fisting in my shirt.
“Get a room,” Bones calls from behind us, amusement thick in his voice.
“We have one,” I murmur against Mercy’s lips. “Multiple, actually.”
She bites my bottom lip playfully. “Maybe we should go back to it.”
“Maybe we should.”
Bones’s sharp whistle cuts through the moment—two short blasts, a warning. I jerk my head up.
Gabriel is walking toward us from across the street, two of his cop buddies flanking him. Not in uniform, but their badges are clipped to their belts, visible enough to be construed as a threat.
The playfulness drains from Mercy’s face.
“Mercedes Rogers.” Gabriel’s eyes track from Mercy’s mouth to my hand still on her ass, then back up to her cut.
His expression doesn’t change, but something dark flickers behind those cold blue eyes.
“That was quite the public display of affection. Not very befitting of a married woman.” He takes a step closer, and I feel Mercy’s body go rigid against mine.
I step between them immediately, putting myself in front of Mercy. “Back off, Rogers.”
“Or what?” Gabriel’s smile is cold, calculated. “You’ll assault a police officer in broad daylight? In front of witnesses?” He gestures to his buddies, who both have their hands resting casually near their service weapons.
“Cash.” Mercy’s hand grips my arm. “Don’t.”
But I’m already calculating angles, exits, how fast I can drop all three before they can draw. Bones shifts behind me, ready to back me up. Steel’s already moving to flank us.
“This is harassment,” I say, keeping level even though every instinct screams to put my fist through his face. “She’s with her lawyer. She’s got witnesses. And she’s made it clear she doesn’t want contact with you.”
“I’m not contacting her.” Gabriel’s smile widens. “I’m standing on a public sidewalk, exercising my First Amendment rights. If she happens to be here too, that’s just coincidence.”
“What are you even doing here?” Mercy bursts out, the frustration clear in her voice.
“Working,” Gabriel says smoothly, his eyes locked on her. “The boys and I have been canvassing the area, documenting the negative effect local gang activity has on businesses and resident wellbeing.”
“That’s bullshit,” I spit. “The MC protects this town. Unlike the people you’re working for.”
“The police department?” he says, feigning innocence. “Young man, it is literally my job to protect and serve. Says it right here on my badge.”
The badge. Always the fucking badge. Like it makes him untouchable.
Like it gives him the right to do whatever he wants and we’re all supposed to bow down because he’s got metal pinned to his chest. I’ve seen cops like him my whole life—the ones who use that badge as a weapon, who hide behind it while they destroy people who can’t fight back.
The ones who cornered scared kids in alleys and called it “community outreach.”
Gabriel’s exactly that type. And he’s standing here using that badge as a shield while he terrorizes the woman I love.
“And Summit,” I add, not letting him deflect, forcing my voice to stay level even though my hands are shaking with the need to rip that badge off his waist.
His expression flickers—just for a second—before settling back into that practiced neutrality. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t.” Bones steps up beside me, arms crossed. “Move along. Go be a good little guard dog somewhere else.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he shifts his attention back to Mercy, ignoring me and Bones entirely, like we’re not even worth acknowledging.
“I’ll leave,” he says, voice taking on that reasonable tone I’m learning to hate. “Right after I have a conversation with my wife.”
“Ex-wife,” Mercy corrects, her voice stronger than I expect.
“Not legally,” he counters. “Not yet. And as your husband, I have every right to speak with you privately about our marital issues.”
“She’s not going anywhere with you,” I growl, my hand tightening on Mercy’s hip.
“Cash.” Mercy steps in front of me, her hand pressing flat against my chest. The touch grounds me instantly, pulling my focus from that bastard’s smug face to her wide green eyes. She’s scared—I can see it in the tension around her mouth—but underneath that fear is determination.
“Can we please just get out of here?” Her voice is low, meant only for me.
Every muscle in my body screams to stay, to make this asshole understand exactly what happens to men who threaten what’s mine.
But Mercy’s hand is warm against my chest, and I can feel her pulse racing through her fingertips.
So I pull her possessively against me, one hand sliding into her hair as I kiss her—quick and rough, claiming her mouth in front of Gabriel because fuck him and his reasonable tone and his badge and everything he represents.
When I pull back, I keep her close, my lips brushing her temple.
“We can go, angel,” I say, loud enough for Gabriel to hear. “You’re right. He’s not worth it.”
The muscle in Gabriel’s jaw ticks as he forces himself not to react to the kiss, the comment. His eyes drop to my hand at her waist as he drags in a breath, then they travel up and he jolts, reading the back of Mercy’s cut. His entire demeanor shifts—something ugly crossing his face.
“Property of Cash,” he reads through gritted teeth.
“How romantic. You ran from me because I was so controlling, and now you’re wearing another man’s name on your back like a dog collar.
” He laughs, the sound harsh and grating.
“At least I had the decency to give you a ring instead of branding you like livestock.” He spits on the ground. “Fucking whore.”
I lunge forward, but Bones catches my arm, his grip iron tight.
“Don’t give him what he wants,” Bones mutters in my ear. “He’s baiting you.”
“Listen to your handler,” Gabriel smirks.
I’m about to rip free of Bones’s grip when Steel steps between us, his bulk blocking my path to Gabriel.
“We’re leaving,” Steel says firmly, looking at me instead of the cops. “Right now.”
Mercy tugs on my hand, her fingers trembling. “Please, Cash. Please.”
The desperation in her voice cuts through my rage. I force myself to breathe, to step back, to let Steel and Bones create a wall between us and Gabriel.
“This isn’t over,” Gabriel calls as we start walking away. “Mercedes, you can play house with these criminals all you want, but you’re still my wife. And you’ll always come back to me.”
Mercy tries to ignore him, but I can see the way his words land. Her whole body stiffens.
We get to the bikes. Bones and Steel keep tight formation, as if expecting Gabriel to follow, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, hands on his hips, watching us go with that poisonous little smile.
We ride for maybe five minutes before I can’t take it anymore. The rage is eating me alive, making my vision blur. I signal and pull over into an empty parking lot behind a closed strip mall, ripping off my helmet and hurling it at the ground.
“FUCK!” The word tears out of my throat, raw and furious.
The helmet bounces off the asphalt, rolling to a stop against a dumpster. I’m off the bike, pacing, my hands fisted so tight my knuckles ache.
I lost control back there. I let Gabriel get to me, push every button until I’d have thrown away everything—my freedom, the club’s safety, Mercy’s protection—just to see his face break. That’s exactly what he wanted. And I almost gave it to him.
Because that’s what guys like him do. They push until you snap, then use your reaction as proof you were the problem all along.
The angry kid. The violent biker. The criminal who can’t control himself.
I’ve spent years learning to keep that control, to never let authority figures see me lose it.
And Gabriel almost made me forget everything I learned.
“Fucking piece of shit. Calling her a whore. In front of everyone. I should’ve—”
“Cash.” Mercy’s voice is soft behind me.
I spin around to find her pulling off her own helmet, her hair wild around her face. Bones and Steel have pulled up too, but they stay on their bikes, giving us space.
“I should’ve hit him,” I spit. “Should’ve broken his fucking jaw for talking to you like that.”
“And gotten arrested,” Mercy says, setting her helmet on my bike seat. “Which is exactly what he wanted.”
“I don’t care—”
“I do.” She steps closer, her hands reaching for mine. “I care, Cash. You getting locked up doesn’t help me. It just gives him more ammunition.”
I want to pull away, want to keep raging, but her fingers are gentle as they uncurl my fists. There are crescent marks in my palms from my nails digging in.
“He called you a whore,” I say, my voice cracking. “Like you’re nothing. Like you’re—”
“I know what he called me.” Her thumbs stroke over my palms. “And it doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“Why?” She looks up at me, eyes steady. “Because it’s not true? Or because you wanted to defend my honor?”
“Both. Neither. I don’t—” I pull my hands free, running them through my hair. “I just wanted to hurt him. For everything he’s done to you. For the way he looks at you like he owns you.”
“But he doesn’t,” Mercy says simply. “Not anymore. Maybe not ever, really.”
She picks up my helmet, inspecting it for damage. There’s a new scrape along the side, but it’s fine. She sets it on the bike next to hers, then turns back to me.
“You know what pisses him off more than anything?” she asks.
“What?”
“That I’m happy.” She steps into my space, her hands sliding up my chest. “That I’m with you. That I’m wearing your name and I chose it. Violence would just prove his point about the MC being dangerous. But me being happy? Me choosing this life? That’s what’s really eating him alive.”
And she’s right. She’s fucking right. The best revenge isn’t violence—it’s showing Gabriel he has no power anymore.
That he can stand there with his badge and his threats and his poisonous words, and at the end of the day, Mercy still chooses me.
Still walks away with me. Still wears my name on her back.
That’s the difference. Choice, not force.
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her against me. “I hate that he can just walk up to you like that.”
“Me too,” she admits into my shirt. “But Josie’s handling it. We’re doing this the right way.”
“The right way sucks.”
She laughs, the sound muffled against my chest. “Yeah, it does.”
Bones clears his throat. “We should get moving. Don’t want to give him time to set up somewhere else.”
I nod, pressing a kiss to Mercy’s forehead. “You good to ride?”
“I’m good if you are.”
I’m not, not really. The rage is still there, simmering under my skin. But Mercy’s here, solid and real in my arms.
“Let’s go home,” I say.
As we get back on the bikes, I catch Bones watching me.
“What?” I ask.
“Just glad you didn’t do anything stupid.”
“Day’s not over yet,” I mutter, but I’m already feeling more in control.
We ride back to the clubhouse in formation, and this time when Mercy’s arms wrap around me, I can breathe again. Gabriel can play his games, make his threats.
But at the end of the day, Mercy comes home with me.
And that’s all that matters.