“So… Rocket said his engine exploded or some shit?”
I snorted. “He’s so dramatic. He only fucked up his whole engine... It’ll be fixed soon enough. I needed to get a replacement ordered in. He’s got my spare ride for now.”
Micro sat behind his desk as I closed the door and took the opposite seat.
“It’s one of the things I’m thinking we need to consider actually.”
“Breaking Rocket’s ride?”
He smirked, getting up to grab two black coffees, sliding one over to me.
“Backup rides. The other Phoenix chapter has them, and we should too. Not just for this, but for covert shit. I’m thinking we get in five or six, and you trick them out? We’ll go black, incognito, and store them in this funky shed you’re gonna organise. How’s that going, by the way?”
Yeah. I’d kinda dropped the ball there, while I’d been… Jesus, don’t make some glib references to my balls, and Caroline.
“My uh… friend… will help with drawing up plans. She’s finishing a project tomorrow, so I’ll see about getting her here after that, to see the site, and talk through what I’m considering.”
His lips twitched every time I mentioned her, but he nodded.
“The plan’s still to raze the place to the ground, and start from scratch?”
I nodded. “We’d bring in some temporary housing and stuff, so we can continue on with everything. I can store some stuff at my shop too, and my flat, so there’s room to manoeuvre.”
Micro picked up his tablet and fiddled with it.
“Thinking I’d like a proper kitchen and eating area here. It’ll be easier for when some of us are staying, so it’s more social thanall fucking off to rooms. We need more socialising going on. This club still feels like a bunch of pissed off guys who don’t wanna hang together.”
He wasn’t wrong, but then I wasn’t sure how long it took for a club to come together as a family after being decimated, half of them murdered, and being patched over by force.
“Reacher got any advice for ya? This isn’t his first rodeo, right?”
Micro opened his mouth, and then groaned as someone pounded obnoxiously on the door.
“Fucking Grease. I can tell it’s him from the knock.”
“Shall we pretend we’re not here?” I suggested, smirking at him.
“I can hear you fuckers, you know.”
He opened the door and pushed it closed, dragging the spare chair up to the desk.
“This is a meeting with my VP, man.”
He shrugged. “I had some info, but if you don’t want it, I can just fuck off and go do my old lady.”
“Speaking of which, when are you making that official?” I asked, because if we were off topic, why not go wayyyy off topic.
He rolled his eyes, slouching back in his chair, and propping his boots up on the desk. As I could have predicted, that led to a fierce glare from Micro, just before he slapped his feet away from the desk.
“Every. Fucking. Time,” he gritted out, as Grease grinned at him.
“You’re so easy, man.”
“You wish.”
“And on the old lady subject, Jay is being a stubborn little minx, and honestly, I don’t want that prick, Rocket, inking either of us, so yeah. We’re nowhere with that right now.”
“He’s good people, man, and his ink work is impeccable.”
