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Needing a distraction from my bitter mood, I retreat to my tech room to keep myself busy. Butch and Ziggy give me a wide berth, knowing I need time to digest this bitter pill. They keep to themselves, letting me fall into my work unbothered.
It’s been several hours since I found out Trent will be the liaison, and I’m no less on board with Simone working on the assignment. Part of my discomfort comes from not knowing where I stand with Simone and the uncertainty of our future. The other part is me being a territorial asshole, not wanting her ex near her. Not only do I see Trent as a threat, I want to shelter my woman from getting hurt again.
I’m finishing up hotel reservations for the upcoming assignment when there’s an alert on my monitor for the front gate of the compound. I check the video feed, finding a caravan of three blacked-out armored SUVs. There’s only one man in the area who travels with security not supplied by our club.
The buzzer rings for the front gate. I hit the intercom button. “There’s nothing on the schedule for Bianchi. What’s this about?”
“Boss needs to speak with Atlas,” Bianchi’s driver states.
“Then he calls ahead and makes an appointment,” I inform him. “Prez doesn’t like unexpected guests on our turf.”
“Chase,” I hear Piero Bianchi coo in the background. “Come on, man. I was in the area and need to speak to my brother. Besides, your MC owes me.”
I shake my head. Piero helped us financially one time, and suddenly the guy thinks our crew is indebted to him. “We gave you what we had on your crooked cousin. We’re square.”
Piero chuckles darkly. “That deal was a trade for trade—helping you track Esteban Moreno for what little you’d collected on Lorenzo Bianchi. Funding your mission to recover your MC’s First Lady…we both know there’s a debt to pay. So be a good foot soldier and inform your president I’m here.”
Cocky sonofabitch.
I call Atlas’s cell. He answers with a clipped, “Yes?”
“Your mobster side piece is here,” I quip. “He’s sitting at the gate, begging for your affection.”
“I heard that,” Piero seethes over the intercom.
“Wasn’t trying to hide it, and I don’t hear you denying my claim.”
Atlas groans. “Stop poking the don. Let him in and escort him to the larger conference room.”
I hit the button for the front gate and watch as Piero’s crew pulls onto the property. I fire off a quick text to Eagle and Stage to greet the royal bastard up front.
These are the sorts of meetings Atlas prefers his closest men present for. Being third-in-command puts me in his inner circle.
Lucky me.I grab my tablet and make my way to the conference room.
Atlas and Gauge are already present when I enter. “Behave,” Atlas warns me as I take my seat.
“Don’t I always?”
Punk grumbles upon entering the room. He takes a seat next to me, muttering curses. He’s no more a fan of Piero than I am.
Gauge points an accusatory finger at Punk. “And you definitely need to behave.”
“Sure thing, old man,” Punk taunts him, with a salute.
Gauge opens his mouth, probably to throw an insult back at Punk, but he snaps it shut when Piero enters the room with his entourage. Eagle and Stage escort them with their assault rifles.
“Are the armed guards necessary when I visit, Atlas?”
“Come without your war party, and my crew won’t meet you with guns.”
The two men are silent for a moment, staring each other down. It’s like the meeting of the alphas, both trying to establish dominance as they wait for the other to break eye contact first. It doesn’t take long before they crack with smiles.
Piero goes to Atlas, extending his hand. Prez meets him halfway, pulling him into a bro-hug. “Brother,” Atlas greets warmly.
“Always good to see you,mio fratello.” He pulls away from Atlas, his dark eyes narrowing on me. “At least someone in this club is civilized.”
I press my palm to my chest, with a mock frown on my face. “I’m wounded.”
