Marco took the bottle, looked at the brand, and grimaced. “Damn, ain’t you got anything better than this? Pete always did say you had bad taste.”
“You know you can leave the same way you came, yeah?” Mick took a sip of his beer, liking the cold brew. Marco was probably like Pete who like wine over beer. Weird but to each their own. Mick wasn’t going to get into a fight with the other man over his fucked up choice of liquor.
“Are you planning on staying here or getting a place on that land up north?” Marco asked almost casually.
Mick stopped with the bottle near his mouth. He lowered it, staring at the other man. “Why the fuck would I get a place up there?”
“You getting all cozy with them fuckers, and shit. Figure you’d be moving into one of the rooms permanently.” Marco gestured toward Mick’s cut.
Mick shrugged and took another drink. He wasn’t going to deny or hide the fact he was no longer a prospect. He’d put in the time and done everything they’d asked him to do. The last several years hadn’t been a cakewalk.
Pete had always looking for the quickest route. It was why he hadn’t been the leader in the ops, but he was good for getting them into trouble. Most of the others on the team had wanted to throw Pete to the wolves, or sharks, and let him sink or swim, probably sink, but Mick had seen that happen when he’d been a kid. Too many of the girls had been bullied by others who thought they were better than them because their mother was a favorite. What they didn’t know was...their mother was only a favorite of the moment. Marco on the other hand would’ve survived, or slit all their throats in their sleep, probably the latter.
“What brought you here, man?” he asked as he finished his beer, turning his back on Marco. Although the other man was more than likely dangerous, Mick didn’t fear him. Some might say he was reckless in giving Marco an unprotected target like his back. What they didn’t know was Mick had grown up in a pit of vipers, his own—The Father being the deadliest of them all.
“Just thought I’d pay you a visit. See if you had seen my cousin being since we haven’t heard from him in quite a while. Looks like you’re chummy with that club Pete had been trying to worm his way into, but Pete would’ve told us if he’d gone from a little prospect bitch to brother.”
“Nope, I haven’t seen Pete in a while.” Mick wasn’t stupid enough to give too much information. People start talking and that’s when they fuck up.
Marco nodded as if he understood. “So, tell me, are they treating you right up there?”
“Cut the shit. You know how it is. You ain’t getting information about the club from me. What is it you truly want? You want to become a prospect for them?” King wouldn’t be letting Marco hang around the clubhouse, let alone be a prospect.
“You think I want to wear a cut like that? I ain’t a bitch like you. I just wanted to see how my little cousins’ friend was doing is all. Looks like you landed on your feet as usual. The golden child,” he muttered.
Mick’s entire body went taunt. He’d been called that name as an insult more times than he could count when he was a kid, by guards and some of the wives. “What the fuck are you talking about? I earned everything I have. What you see”—Mick lifted his arms out to his sides, indicating the space around them—“I’ve worked my ass off to pay for. As for landing on my feet? If you mean nearly getting killed and medically discharged from Special Ops, then yeah, I landed on my feet, or rather in a fucking hospital bed. It’s a miracle I’m walking, so don’t fucking stand there and tell me I landed on my feet or that I had shit easy. You don’t know a fucking thing, and I’m not your damn brother.” He had a fuckton of half-siblings, but he didn’t know a thing about any of them, and last he’d known, he was the only son. He had brothers now, the Royal MC. They’d have his back and wouldn’t be looking for a way to stab him in the back like Pete had, or his cousin who was staring at him like he was searching for weakness.
He walked to the door, needing to see the backside of Marco before he did something he’d regret, like shoot the fucker. He never missed when he took aim.
“Come on, man. I didn’t mean to insult you. Let’s have another beer.” Marco held up his half full bottle. The shit would be piss warm now. If Marco was anything like he thought, warm beer wouldn’t be his favorite thing to choke down.
“I’ve had a hell of a long day, and tomorrow I gotta work at the asscrack of dawn.” He didn’t know the particulars of Marco’s finances, only that Pete said they had money. If the other man worked, Mick didn’t know where or what he did. The house party he’d gone to with Pete was on the beach and had been at a place only the really rich could afford. If you looked at the other man, you’d never know he had money, unless you looked closely. The watch was expensive, as was every stitch of clothing on his body, he just wore it so casually.
Marco let out a long sigh, but he sat his still half full bottle on Mick’s wooden coffee table, without bothering to place it on one of the coasters next to it. Asshole.
“Alright, I’m going. You know, you’re welcome to come down to the beach house, even though you’re one of them,” Marco said, pointing toward his cut.
“Yeah, I’ll give you a holler.” He wouldn’t be doing any such thing, but he kept his face neutral while holding the door open. He didn’t miss the way Marco had sneered when he’d said one of them.
“What’re you doing this weekend, any big plans? If not, we’re having a party. It’s gonna be a lot of fun. Lots of alcohol, women, and other shit for one of our brothers and his engagement. You should come.” Marco stopped outside in the hallway, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Mick had seen the good ole boy act many times, and watching Marco attempt it was almost laughable. “Thanks for the invite. I’ll see what’s going on.”
“Sounds good. See you,” Marco said, lifting his fist and waited for Mick to bump it with his.
“Take it easy, man.” Mick tapped it with his uninjured hand and waited until he was in the elevator before slipping out his door to follow, going down the stairs as quickly as he could. He hit the bottom floor just as the elevator opened and watched Marco step out of the lift, his phone to his ear.
“Si’. I’m leaving now. Si’. You got it. I’ll see you then.” Marco stuffed the cellphone into his back pocket, never breaking stride. Mick waited until the other man exited the building, and then he eased out of the stairway, making sure he kept close to the wall in case Marco was outside. He hadn’t seen a motorcycle anywhere around the building when he’d done his normal circuit of the block, but he hadn’t known what the other man drove. Headlights from down the street came on. A sleek convertible drove past seconds later with Marco behind the wheel. Mick wasn’t a car guy himself, but he knew that little sportster was a spendy little number.
“Nice ride.” He made note of the make and model, then keeping to the wall, he made his way back to stairwell. Once inside, he stopped and waited to see if Marco came back. After five minutes he started up the stairs. Just as he hit the second level, the sound of the door below opening brought him to a halt.