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Jig shook his head, doing a shitty job of hiding his smirk as he cupped the back of his woman’s neck. It was a possessive move that would have earned any other man a trip to the emergency room, but, wonder of wonders, Izzy often deferred to Jig when around the club.
The rest of the room erupted in laughter with a few comments about Izzy being a ball buster thrown in for good measure.
“All right settle down. Gotta get serious for a few minutes here,” Copper said as the crowd grew quiet. “We got a credible threat we had to look into. I wanted to fill you all in because I realize I can’t keep you locked up here forever. It’s been a few days and the guy we were worried about has been spotted leaving town on a private jet. That means you’re all free to go about your business.”
The women immediately began chattering about how relieved they were to be released from “MC prison.” Chloe remained quiet but had relaxed against Rocket as Copper spoke. Unfortunately, Rocket had a feeling her languid state wouldn’t last.
“Hey, I ain’t finished,” Copper said, clapping his meaty hands to get everyone to focus back on him. Shell rolled her eyes and patted his arm.
Rocket tensed. There was nothing he hated more than being the center of attention and here it fucking came.
Shifting on his lap, Chloe peered down at him. “You okay?” she asked low enough he was the only one who heard. “You just got all stiff.” Her cheeks pinked. “And not in that way.”
Leave it to her to get some sort of laugh out of him when he wanted to tear the room apart. “I’m good, babe. No worries.” He gave her a gentle squeeze as he spoke.
Her eyes narrowed and one auburn eyebrow arched. Yeah, she didn’t believe that.
“Okay,” Copper said. “Try to keep your yaps shut until I’m done, yeah?”
Izzy snorted and Copper sent her a death glare. Of course, the woman didn’t so much as bat an eyelash.
“You all know Rocket is a former Marine. After he left, he was recruited by DarkOps.”
Now it was Chloe’s turn to go rigid. Fuck. Looked like the cat was out of the damn bag now. Too bad he couldn’t have killed the furry beast. His life prior to the MC wasn’t a secret, per se, of course ninety percent of the missions were classified to the nth degree, but the fact that he worked for DarkOps wasn’t. However, he fucking hated the reaction when people found out who he worked for. So he kept that shit to himself. Until today.
“I said, shut your fuckin’ yaps,” Copper bellowed, and the few whispered murmurs ceased immediately. Unfortunately, that meant it was pin-drop quiet as everyone in the room stared at Rocket with open curiosity.
Nosy motherfuckers.
Rocket trained his gaze on Copper. The goal was to keep himself from noticing the way his brothers gawked at him. Didn’t work. He could feel each and every one of their stares like hot pokers against his skin. Hear each and every one of the questions hurling silently through the air.
Chloe rested her hand on the top of his where it lay on her thigh. She linked their fingers and gave a comforting squeeze, not letting up the pressure as Copper began talking again.
“I ain’t gonna get into details about what he did there, that’s Rocket’s private fucking business, but I’m sure you can figure out the gist of it.” Copper sent an apologetic look Rocket’s way.
He got it. The prez had no choice. Esposito could approach any one of his brothers or their ol’ laides. They had to know who he was and what he was to remain vigilant and safe. In his typical manipulative style, Esposito was likely to approach and scare the fuck out of one of the women with a blackmail scheme. He’d dig up something they’d rather remained buried and threaten to out them if Rocket didn’t complete the mission. Everyone in the room had at least one dancing skeleton in their closet. Sure, he’d left town, but who the hell knew when he’d be back and the clubhouse couldn’t stay on lockdown forever.
Rocket would peel the skin off Esposito’s breathing body before he let the fucktard anywhere near Chloe.
So, while he understood why Copper had to air his dirty laundry all over the damn clubhouse, he hated the fuck out of it.
“Bottom line, folks, Rocket walked when shit started seeming hinky. Again, I ain’t getting into details. They’re his to share if he wants, and I think it’s been made pretty clear he’s not interested. Anyway, they want him back, and aren’t above playing dirty to get him.” He lifted a photograph from the bar. “Want you all to keep your eyes peeled for this fucker. Tracking?”
