Rocket (Hell's Handlers MC 5)

Scott snorted. “Showing your hand a bit early there, man,” he said form the corner of his mouth.

Didn’t matter. Esposito already knew Rocket was deeply involved with Chloe. No point in pretending otherwise.

Scott ran a hand through his short hair. “DarkOps.” He shook his head. “Jesus, you got my sister mixed up in some shit, didn’t you?”

“I see my reputation precedes me.” Esposito extended a hand in Scott’s direction. “Nicholas Esposito. And I’m not as old as Rocket likes to think.”

Rocket resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The old man could be charming as fuck when he wanted to be. That’s how he drew so many unsuspecting suckers into his company.

Scott ignored the outstretched hand. “Why don’t you just tell us why you’re here. Doesn’t much seem like you’re wanted.”

Esposito’s eyes shifted to Rocket. In his early sixties, Esposito no longer resembled the man Rocket knew, a man who kept himself in tip-top shape. Looking at him was almost a comical paradox. Faded ink ran down both forearms which were thinned with waning muscle and covered with wrinkling skin. Yet Rocket had no doubt he was as deadly as always despite the softening of his body over the years.

“I need him.” He jerked his thumb in Rocket’s direction. “Got a complicated job and I need the best.”

Rocket grunted. Complicated job. More like he needed someone he could manipulate to perform an unsanctioned kill.

“You work for him?” Scott asked.

“No,” Chloe said, the word ripe with finality. “He doesn’t.”

She stood, and Rocket wanted to knock her back to the couch. But damn if she didn’t look sexy as hell, all indignant on his behalf. “This is my house, and you’re trespassing. You need to leave now, or I’ll be forced to call the police.”

Like DarkOps didn’t pull the strings of law enforcement all across the country. Hell, the world. Chloe wouldn’t be aware of that, though. She still believed in a universe where those who vowed to protect and serve actually did so.

Esposito smirked. “Got a live one there, huh, Rocket? Pretty thing too.”

“What’d I say about your fucking eyes?”

The smirk reappeared; this time accompanied by a shrug. “All right,” Esposito said as he lifted his hands. “I can see I’m not welcome here. Just wanted to check in one last time before I head back to South Carolina.”

“You made your offer. Now leave,” Chloe said as she took a step closer to Rocket.

Rocket reached out and tagged her around the waist, bringing her flush against his side. Without so much as a flicker of resistance, she melted into his side, circling her arm around his back. The contact pacified him somewhat. Confirmation she was safe despite the shitstorm of the evening.

Esposito flicked a glance her way then focused back on Rocket. “Actually, I haven’t made my offer yet. But I do have one.”

Rocket clenched his fists. Shit. Unease slithered down his spine, twisting his gut. Whatever Esposito was about to lay out, he had a feeling it was the ace the man needed to get what he wanted.

“One job,” he said to Rocket as though they were the only two in the room. “Couple weeks max.”

Rocket rolled his shoulders, breathing slow to keep from reaching out and wringing Esposito’s neck. Next to him, Chloe flinched subtly. Shit, he’d been squeezing the life out of her waist. Rocket forced his grip to slacken. “And?”

“And in return, you get this.” Esposito lobbed his phone to Rocket.

With one hand, he snagged it out of the air.

“Open it up. No passcode. There’s a video on screen. Go ahead and give it a look.”

Rocket met Esposito’s gaze. Dread filled him, almost to the point he didn’t swipe the screen open. Whatever the video contained, it was the key to Rocket’s compliance. Deep down in his gut, he sensed Esposito was about to dangle a carrot he’d be forced to chase.

The room fell eerily quiet. Only the soft sound of Chloe’s shaky breathing registered.

Watching the video was a fucking mistake of epic proportions, but what choice did he have? He just prayed Esposito hadn’t abducted one of his brothers or their ol’ ladies. He’d never be able to live with that guilt. Careful not to let his discomfort show, he swiped up. On screen was the image of a dark room Rocket didn’t recognize. The camera had been angled toward a corner that appeared to be empty.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Play it,” Esposito ordered.

Chloe rested her cheek against his bicep as she peered down at the screen with him. As the recording began to play, the camera panned across a dimly lit room. After only five seconds, Chloe gasped. Rocket’s head snapped up.

“Oh my God,” Chloe breathed. “How did you…it’s him.” Next to Rocket, she started to tremble.

Esposito grinned at him. “Check mate,” he said then spoke to Chloe. “I’m sorry for what you went through, Chloe.”