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“Welcome back, brother,” Copper said. He sat in his spot at the head of the table. Each of the men had a glass in front of them.
Jigsaw held one out to Rocket. “Prez broke out the good shit just for you.”
He raised an eyebrow at Copper who was nodding. “Thought your return, the official end to your involvement with DarkOps, and the impending end of Lefty deserved the Macallan.”
Damn, he really did dig into the good shit. Had he mentioned how fucking great it was to be home?
Cop lifted his glass and the guys followed. “Job well done, Rocket. Know this wasn’t easy for you, and you look like complete shit, so it couldn’t have been a cakewalk. This club owes you.”
“Fuck no it doesn’t,” Rocket said, but he lifted his glass as the other men followed and sipped the expensive scotch.
“Cop’s right. You’re looking kinda worked over there, brother,” Zach said from across the table.
Rocket narrowed his eyes at their enforcer. “Rough few weeks. You know who else was looking kinda worked over?”
Zach winced. “Shit, brother. We tried our damn fucking best. Short of drugging her, I couldn’t force her to sleep. Toni started feeding her at the diner as soon as we realized she was dropping pounds. She doin’ okay?”
Rocket nodded. She was now, and he’d make damn sure she stayed that way.
“Get everything settled yesterday?” Copper asked.
“Yeah. It’s all good. We covered our tracks real well. Had a visit from Esposito when I got home. Seems to have worked. He’s satisfied the marks are dead. Even congratulated me on having the balls to whack a kid.” Rocket’s stomach soured at the memory.
“Fucker,” Jig muttered.
“Agree with you there, brother. You think he’s done with you?” Copper asked with a concerned expression.
Rocket nodded. “I do. He said as much, and he may be a piece of shit, but he’ll stick to his word.”
“And our payment?” Copper’s eyes now gleamed with a familiar need for vengeance.
“Will be delivered tomorrow at the latest. Just waiting on communication via text.”
“I want to hear as soon as you do, get me, Rocket?” Copper pierced him with a laser stare.
For a split-second, it seemed as though Copper could sense the plans for Lefty’s death and dismemberment rolling through Rocket’s brain. “I get you,” he said though the words cost him. Handing Lefty over would take a feat of internal strength he might not possess.
“No going off half-cocked. No vigilante shit. No solo shit. I’m to be kept in the loop the entire fucking time. Know it was your ass out there doing the dirty work, and you’ll be compensated for your time and trouble, but Lefty belongs to the club.” He leaned across the table offering his fist to Rocket. “You have my word, you can be the one to pull the trigger, but you’re not doing it until I get some time with him.” There wasn’t an inch of wiggle room in his tone. Absolutely no room for argument or even discussion.
For the first time since he patched in, a part of him wanted to tell Copper to fuck off. Lefty was his. Motherfucking his. He’d raped and beaten Rocket’s woman. If Rocket had his way, he’d keep Lefty locked up and at his mercy for weeks. Slowly carving away at his body until nothing remained but a bloody mess begging for death. Even then, he might not grant the bastard’s wish. But that wasn’t how Copper wanted it done. The club had been after Lefty for months. As much as it burned his ass to share the spoils, Cop would make Lefty pay and only then would Rocket end him.
And Chloe’s demons would be vanquished.
That was the end goal. Not Rocket’s insatiable thirst for vengeance. Though he’d still get to feed his bloodlust. And enjoy every fucking second of it.
He bumped his fist against Copper’s. “Said I get it, prez. And I don’t want the club’s fucking money. Lefty’s death is payment enough.”
With a nod, Copper scratched at his beard. The damn thing was getting downright scraggly. Only a matter of time before Shell started riding his ass about that. She probably gave him leeway due to his recent injuries. “Anything else?” He made eye contact with each of the men as they shook their heads. “Well if that’s it, we’re done here. Anybody sticking around?”
“I got some shit to do in my office,” Jig said. As club treasurer, and anal-retentive record keeper, he spent a fair amount of time glued to a computer screen.
Rocket nearly shuddered. Better Jig than him. Just the thought of dealing with the club’s finances made him want to run screaming.
“I’m out. Gotta pick up Clo.”
His brothers shared looks and smirks between them.
“What?”
“Rocket and Chloe sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” Though Mav was the only one brave—or stupid—enough to taunt him, the rest of the assholes busted out laughing.
