Embracing His Syn (4 page)

“
Shut the fuck up, Ro,”
God swore. “Well we’re not going to throw you a damn party and kiss
your ass all night for doing the right thing. Do you want the
position or not?” God stared at Syn.

Syn looked at Day, God and Ronowski
before turning his own smart-ass grin on them. “Depends. Is being
gay a requirement too?”

“
No. But being an asshole
is ... and you’ve got that in spades. So what’s it gonna be
fuckface?” Day quickly threw back.

Syn stood and held his hand out to
God. God gripped his palm in an extra firm grip and Syn increased
the pressure to match it while looking directly into those
threatening green eyes. He dropped his gaze down to God’s nose.
“You might want to get that looked at, it’s swelling pretty bad.”
Syn prodded the big man and God dropped his hand roughly, turning
his evil gaze to Day as the man laughed at his lover's expense. Syn
looked each man in the eye before he threw on his coat and headed
to the office door, yanking it open.

“
I accept,” he said with
complete confidence and closed the door behind him.

Syn made it through the
parking lot and into his truck before pausing to take a couple of
deep breaths. He’d completely lost his shit in there, even told the
Captain ‘fuck you.’
What the hell was I
thinking?

“
A test. A goddamn test,”
he yelled to no one. Syn started his beat-up Chevrolet pickup,
driving quickly out of the parking lot. He needed to blow off some
steam. He was still tightly wound, and his body ached all
over.

Syn parked at the curb in front of the
pub across the street from his apartment. He’d seen different types
come and go from it over the last few days and he figured it’d be a
good place to get a stiff drink, and possibly get his stiff sucked.
It’d been long enough.

Syn checked his cell phone to make
sure it was on vibrate. As part of the task force, he was required
to be available 24/7. He tucked his wallet and badge into his back
pocket and secured his weapon at the small of his back. He plucked
his faded leather jacket from the back seat and got out. After
scanning the parking lot one last time he walked into the small
pub. A quick look around told him the crowd looked friendly enough
and the back exit wasn’t blocked ... this was a place he could hang
for a bit.

The long wood bar held only
half-a-dozen or so customers, most of the patrons seated in small
booths along the wall and a few standing tables surrounding a tiny
dance floor. The music being played was classic rock – thank
goodness.

Syn took a seat at the far end of the
bar, allowing him to observe the entire place. Cop habit. He
scanned the multitude of liquor bottles lined up on the bright wall
behind the bar and tried to choose his poison for the
night.

“
What can I get you,
Sport?” The young bartender threw a coaster in front of him and
braced both hands on top of the smooth wood. Syn’s head turned back
toward the masculine voice and looked into eyes as dark as his own.
The guy looked to be in his late-twenties, early thirties maybe. He
wore a tight black t-shirt with the bar’s logo on it and jeans that
rode low on his narrow hips, barely held up by a black-studded
belt. A silver chain hung across his hip and disappeared into his
back pocket.

Syn didn’t respond for a few seconds
and noticed the man’s dark eyebrow go up in question. The bartender
brushed his fingers through his long brown hair, tucking one side
behind an ear that had two silver hoops and one stud in it. That’s
when Syn noticed the ink along both lean muscular arms and an
intricate pattern which led up out of his t-shirt and wound around
his neck. Was it a dragon’s tail or a serpent? He couldn’t tell for
sure.

“
Did you want a few more
minutes or do you want to see a menu?”

Syn snapped out of it and cleared his
throat before speaking. “Uhh. Let me get a Bud Light on
draft.”

“
You got it. Want a
menu?”

“
No thanks.”

Syn watched the man walk
down to the other end of the bar to pull his beer.
He just reminds you of someone. No big deal.
Chill out.

He tried not to stare at the
bartender. All those damn tattoos. The way his ass looked in those
jeans. The way his hair swayed with his movements. It looked so
thick and soft; straight on the top, its length curving into a few
deep waves just past his shoulders. He was lithe, but not skinny.
Toned but not overly muscular.

Syn turned and looked out
at the dance floor. There were two women – obviously intoxicated –
dancing seductively with each other, putting on a very entertaining
show. Aerosmith blasted through the speakers about making love in
an elevator.
Hmm. There’s an elevator in
my building.
It was after ten o’clock now,
time for people to consider if they were going home alone or with
company ... Syn was hoping for the latter.
‘Lovin’ it up ‘til I hit the ground.’

“
Here ya go, Chief.”
Tattoos set his beer in front of him.

What’s with the fuckin’
nicknames?

“
Name’s Syn,” he grumbled
and took a long swallow of his beer.

“
Is that
right?”

Syn watched Tattoos flash him a sexy
smile and give him a look that said ‘I like it’ but moved on to a
couple a few seats over.

Syn. Now that sounds
dirty.

Furi tried to concentrate
on the customers that had just sat down, but he’d wanted nothing
more than to linger and find out more about the intense man at the
end of the bar. He was sure the guy was straight, but he was
throwing some interesting looks in Furi's direction. He tried not
to read too much into that. People stared at him all the time.
Young people gawked at his tattoos, women wanted to play in his
hair, and men wanted his tight ass … the gay ones anyway, and a few
that weren’t. But he couldn’t get a read on
Syn
. Furi wouldn’t mind seeing what
the guy’s smile looked like, surrounded by all that delicious dark
stubble. Obviously Syn didn’t like the nicknames, but Furi wanted
to see if he could get a rise out of Mr. Too Damn Hot.

“
Hey Furious, time for you
to go ain’t it?”

Furi ignored his uncle and finished
mixing a margarita for the woman and a rum and coke for her
date.

“
Here ya go. Can I get you
guys a menu?” After they declined, Furi went back to check on his
favorite customer.

“
You want another, buddy?”
Furi smirked.

“
Name’s Syn.”

The deep sultry voice made
its way through Furi’s stomach and down to his groin. Syn’s entire
persona screamed ‘I’m masculine’. His broad shoulders and firm
chest were visible through his thin gray v-neck shirt. Although
Furi couldn’t see them from behind the bar, he was sure the man’s
thighs were muscular and strong enough to crack walnuts. Syn
dragged one strong hand through his dark, medium-length hair,
making it spike and fall in different directions. That gesture made
Furi notice there was a mean-looking six-inch serpent tattooed on
Syn’s forearm.
Hmm. Fitting, he’s
definitely poison.
A predator that could
strike and kill when you least expected it. Furi leaned a little
closer, but didn’t dare invade too much. “Yeah, you told me your
name already, but I asked if you wanted another drink?” Now Furi
ran his hand through his hair, and watched Syn follow the movement
with those sexy midnight eyes.

“
No. I’m good.
Thanks.”

“
No problem.” Furi winked
and clicked his teeth. “Well, I’m outta here.”

Furi heard Syn grunt his
goodbye as he turned to pull his old leather coat from underneath
the bar. He went to retrieve his tips from the jar next to the
register and whispered a couple words to Candy, the closing
bartender. He kissed her at the bottom of her jaw, just lingering a
little, putting on a show for
Syn
.

“
Bye, Furi,” she squirmed
and yelped playfully at the touch of stubble on her smooth
skin.

Throwing his jacket on, his back to
Syn, he made sure to flip his long tresses out so they could fall
over the dark material. He swore he could feel those deep, charcoal
eyes tracking him through the bar, but he refused to look
back.

Goodbye Syn.

That man at the end of the bar; that
was the kind of man that lured you to his bed at night and fucked
you senseless, but then beat the shit out of you the next morning,
because in the harsh light of day, he wasn’t gay. Furi knew that
type of man all too well. As he walked the half-block to the bus
stop, his blood cooled at the horrific memories of the last year as
he lit a Marlboro and waited for the next bus. He didn’t need to
dredge up old horror stories, he had to get his mind right ... he
had an early shoot in the morning.

Syn paid his tab for the one beer and
left the pub. Somehow making love in an elevator didn’t appeal to
him anymore. If he was being honest, women in general rarely did.
He’d always felt they were more of a distraction than anything and
he’d had very little time for distractions while focusing on his
career. Syn looked up and down the street, about to cross to his
building when a familiar figure caught his eye just a half-block
up.

Furious. That’s what the
man in the pub had called him. Interesting name

Syn detoured and headed in
that direction. His body completely ignoring what his brain was
screaming.
He just looks like him … this
is not the same.
Syn walked slowly,
Furious wasn’t going anywhere since he appeared to be waiting for
the bus. He watched a billow of smoke emerge from full, pink lips.
Smoking. It was a filthy habit, but somehow, Furious made it look
kind of hot. Syn was just a few feet away and saw that Furious had
ear buds in, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, head
hanging down and all that hair falling over his beautiful
face.

Beautiful face.
Syn watched the man remove the cigarette from his
lips.