“Not interested.”
“You’re mistaken if you think I care about your level of interest.”
Rocket clenched his teeth. “Get lost.”
Propping his arm on the side of Rocket’s pick-up, Esposito smirked again. “No can do. I need this job done and I need it done by you. Yesterday. Come on, Rocket, shouldn’t take you more than a few weeks. You zip on down to Mexico, do some recon, take the fucker out and done. Payment fulfilled. You’ll never hear from me again. Hell, I’ll even throw in a hundred grand to sweeten the deal.”
So, all it took to get out from Esposito’s thumb was the destruction of what was left of his soul.
“Fuck off.”
“You can’t refuse,” he said with a laugh as though it was the most obvious fact in the universe. Esposito hated Rocket for the way he’d left the company. Esposito had probably been salivating after this for years. Get his big money maker job done and ruin Rocket in the process. No skin off his back. His company would thrive. The only thing the bastard cared about.
“I can,” he said, slamming the tailgate closed.
He rounded the truck then slid behind the wheel. Before he had the ignition fired, Esposito appeared at his open window. The smug fucker folded his arms on the window frame. “You always did prefer the hard way, didn’t you, Rocket?”
“Fuck off.” Rocket leveled him with a glare so deadly, Esposito squirmed.
But his discomfort only lasted for the blink of an eye. “Pretty little thing, your redhead. Though all the women who seem to be attached to your club are. Maybe not that tall one with the braid, she looks like she could kick my ass. I’m partial to the little curly blonde. You know the one, with the cute little girl of her own.”
Shell. Copper’s woman. Copper would rip Esposito limb from limb if he so much as sniffed in Shell’s direction. Might be kind of fun to watch. Rocket curled his hands around the wheel. It was either that or reach through the window and slam Esposito’s head against the side of his truck. The goddamn motherfucker’d had eyes on his truck for who knew how long. The thought of him watching all the women, Chloe especially, was enough to make him lose his mind. He fired up the truck. Chloe had to be protected. If that meant confessing what he’d been doing with her to Copper, so be it. Esposito couldn’t get his bloody hands anywhere near her.
Rocket revved the engine causing Esposito to back away from the vehicle, arms raised. “Think about. I’ll be in town for a few days.” He took another two steps back as Rocket shifted the truck in drive.
Copper was gonna shit a brick.
“See you soon,” Esposito called out as Rocket’s truck kicked up a cloud of dust in its wake.
He hung his arm out the window, flipping Esposito the bird with one hand. The other dialed Copper while he used his knee to steer.
“What’s up, Rocket?” Copper answered on the second ring.
“Esposito’s in town.”
“Shit. You on your way in?” Something crashed in the background. Probably the brick falling from Copper’s ass.
“Ten minutes.”
“Make it five.”
A grunt was the only reply he gave his prez before he hit the end button and floored the gas.
Seven minutes later, he was seated in the chapel with the rest of the executive board. Bringing trouble to the club’s doorstep was the last thing Rocket ever wanted. First off, he hated being the fucking center of attention and second, he was the SAA. His job was to keep the club orderly and prevent any internal or external strife. And here he was, the one hand delivering a pile of shit. Copper ought to rip the title from him.
And he just might.
Since he was last to arrive, Copper began the moment his ass hit the chair. “Okay, Rocket, thanks for getting in so fast. I haven’t had a chance to fill everyone in yet, so why don’t you get the guys up to speed. And use actual full sentences please.”
He shot his prez a look then took in the room. “Guy I used to work for, name’s Esposito, wants me to do a job for him.”
“What kind of job?” Zach cut in, all ears. As the club’s enforcer, he lived for anything that allowed him to bring out his meaty fists.
Well shit, looked like it was time to bleed his past all over the clubhouse. His brothers probably wouldn’t be able to stomach the sight of him by the time he was done with his tale. “He’s top dog of a private defense contractor. I was his lead operator.”
The room grew quiet as the men digested that information and read between the lines.
“Well, none of you have ever known me to keep my mouth shut, so I’ll be the one to ask. Is lead operator code for badass assassin?” Maverick asked. His inked arms were folded across the table top, and the pierced eyebrow had arched high into his forehead.