“I know. I know. Shut it.” Tank rolls his eyes as he saunters off.
Glancing around the gym, I spot the guy from outside standing next to the break room. He looks uneasy but determined. Black, wavy hair, slightly disheveled, as if he’s been running his hands through it. Large, expressive eyes, green ringed with gold, startling against the angles of his tan skin. He’scarrying a careworn messenger bag, half-hidden behind him and clutching the strap tight.
I’m heading in his direction, but Diesel’s already there. Probably to offer him food. I chuckle to myself. I’ll talk to him after he’s eaten. Diesel’s guiding him toward the break room.
I do my rounds, checking in with Saint, who’s doing some weight training.
“You good?” he asks, glancing at the back door
“Yup. Never better.”
He nods.
“The kid’s the one who sent us out there. Came in here telling us you needed back up.” Saint gives me one of his rare smiles. “Should have known you’d have it under control.”
“Good to know. Appreciate the backup though.”
“We got you,” he says as we bump fists.
Suerte is working on his hands with his trainer. I take a minute to observe. He’s come a long way from the amateur I met just a couple of years ago. He’s a natural.
They take a break, and I wave him over.
“Drop your elbow. You’re telegraphing.”
“Got it.” His dark eyes flash, and his tone is terse and annoyed. That’s Suerte, always goes hard on himself. Even when he doesn’t need to.
After I check in with all my guys in the main gym, I head to the break room. I didn’t see Tank out there, so he’s either eating or entertaining our new stray. Likely both.
I pop my head in the door, and sure enough, Tank’s sitting there, only for once he’s not talking. I quirk an eyebrow, wondering how Diesel got him to shut up.
“That’s some fantastic work, Micah.” Ah, the stray has a name. Diesel’s looking at something on his phone, and Micah looks as if he might smile, but holds it back.
“What’s going on?” That probably comes out too gruff, and Micah’s face falls. Damn.
“Boss, check out Micah’s skills. He did this all on a computer.”
He hands me the phone. It’s an advertisement for a local business. It’s very professional and the graphics are stunning.
“You do this?” I ask Micah. Fear flashes through his eyes before he squares his shoulders.
“Yes. I did, sir.” He answers quietly but firmly.
“Sir?” Tank asks with heavy sarcasm.
Diesel smacks his arm, and I stare him down.
“You guys have no sense of humor. None. So boring.” He mutters before he goes back to his meal.
“I’m not a “sir” kind of guy. Just call me Tiernan.” I reach my hand out with a sigh. Micah’s hesitant at first, then he gets that determined look again, shaking it firmly.
“Micah. Nice to meet you.”
“Could use some help with my social media and stuff. You know how to do that?”
“Yes, I do it for some of my clients.”
“Cool. Come see me tomorrow morning. ‘Bout 10:30. We’ll talk.”
