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“So, you agree to me staying? Excellent. I knew you’d see it my way.” Abel smiled charmingly and took his phone back.
“Why don’t I ever just shoot you?” Roman asked Abel, glaring at him over steepled fingers.
“Because you love me,” Abel replied instantly. “Now, how do you want me to be? Rage monster protector? Or calm voice of reason?”
Roman rolled his eyes, knowing there was no way Abel was going to leave. “Calm, please. There’s no point making enemies when we can make business.”
He was a businessman at heart. He loved all the inner workings of buying and selling and making a struggling business profitable. Which was why he had been so open when Mr. Hennessy contacted him about taking over Raz’s shit. Thankfully, the war with The Razors had blown over with nothing sticking to him or his men. It helped that the police hated Raz almost as much as Roman had.
In the past three and a half months, Roman had done the bare minimum to ensure no new big players took over Raz’s territory. His reputation had been enough. Which is flattering, he thought with a smirk. But it was poor business to leave so much space and so many buildings empty. He was intrigued to hear what Mr. Hennessy had to say.
When a knock sounded on the door, Roman looked at the time. “He’s prompt,” he noted.
Abel nodded silently, taking up a position next to Roman’s desk. When a rough-looking man entered a moment later, Roman stood up. A second man followed a step behind, and Roman greeted the strangers. “Mr. Hennessy, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Dominic,” the man corrected easily enough. “But I go by Midas if you don’t mind. And I’m hoping that the pleasure is all mine.” He gestured to the other man. “This is Crow, he’s my second.”
Roman nodded in greeting, taking both men’s measures. They hadn’t dressed up for the meeting, but that didn’t bother Roman. He didn’t base a man’s worth on what he wore any more than he judged family on the blood that ran through one’s veins. There were far more important things.
They were dressed almost identically in leather pants, boots, and t-shirts. Their club cuts were over their shirts. Roman wasn’t sure where they had stashed their helmets, but they weren’t carrying them. “Drink?” he offered, gesturing to the bar in the left corner.
Midas shook his head. “No, thank you. Perhaps after our meeting.”
Roman’s opinion of the newcomer rose. He never mixed alcohol with business either. “A few preliminaries, and then we can get down to business. Are you armed?”
“I’m not, no, as per our agreement. But my friend here”—Midas motioned at Crow—“could not be convinced, unfortunately. He’s packing.” Midas paused, thinking about it for a moment before adding, “A lot.”
Roman found himself more amused than pissed and relaxed back into his seat. “Your bodyguard?” he queried.
Midas rolled his eyes. “He seems to think so.”
Roman watched the pair carefully, seeing affection as well as annoyance on Midas’s face. The two men were clearly more than colleagues. They were friends, perhaps even family. But that was motorcycle clubs for you. Roman gestured to Abel. “This is Abel. He seems to believe the same thing as your man here.”
“I hope you don’t mind that Crow is here,” Midas said quickly. “He’s my VP and will be heavily involved in the business. I thought it was a good idea to bring him along.”
The sound Roman made was neutral. “Abel is just here to look pretty.”
“Hey!” Abel yelled, glaring at Roman.
The laughter that came from Midas and Crow was heartening. Perhaps the meeting would go well after all. “I will warn you, though. Abel is also heavily armed. As long as you don’t do anything stupid, we’ll all get along just fine.”
Crow looked Abel over from head to toe. “He could try to take me on.”
Abel immediately lost his playfulness, fists clenching as he glared daggers at the man. “Bring it,” he clipped.
Roman didn’t say anything, watching the dynamic between Midas and his subordinate.
“There will be no bringing,” Midas snarled, spinning around and getting up in Crow’s grill. “Damnit, Crow, stand down. If I wanted a loose cannon, I would have brought Torque with me.”
Crow bared his teeth. “You never let me have any fun.”
“We’re trying to establish a working relationship; fun can come later,” Midas said sternly. He faced Roman once more. “Sorry. I swear, being the prez of a motorcycle club is more like running a preschool most of the time.”
Roman shared a commiserating look with the other man from across his desk. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“Hey!” Abel and Crow said simultaneously, glaring at their respective bosses.
Roman smiled when Midas looked pained. “I think we’re going to get along just fine. Take a seat.”
