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Midas dipped his head, settling into one of the two chairs on the other side of the desk. Crow remained standing. “I certainly hope so. I’ve heard good things about you.”
“Tell me more about you,” Roman invited. “Why is the president of a motorcycle club interested in the old territory of a gangbanger like Raz?”
“We knew the guy,” Midas said, resting his elbows on his knees. “I appreciated the way you dealt with him and his crew.”
“I pulled them apart piece by piece,” Roman pointed out.
Midas’s gaze remained steady. “Like I said, I appreciate it.”
“Bad blood?” Roman guessed. Luca had given him some background information on The Midas Touch MC, but there was no mention of Raz.
“Something like that,” Midas hedged.
Roman let it go for the time being. “It’s quite a large territory. Why should I just hand it over?”
“I’m not looking for a handout. I was hoping we could work something out that was mutually beneficial. As I’m sure you know, my club is based a couple of towns over, a good four-hour drive from here. We have a lot of successful operations in Dalton, but I’ve been looking to expand for a while. Razor territory is a good business opportunity,” Midas explained.
Roman regarded the man in front of him for a moment. He was saying all the right things, but Roman didn’t buy it. Not completely. “How about you tell me the truth.”
Midas frowned, and Crow shifted subtly on his feet. “That is the truth,” he insisted.
“Sure,” Roman agreed before adding, “but not all of it. I didn’t get to where I am by being naïve, Midas. I’m good at reading people. This is personal for you. Why?”
Midas shared a look with Crow before he sighed, leaning back further in his seat. “Raz’s brother is the president of a rival club. A real fucker. Knowing I have possession of his baby bro’s territory will really chap his ass.”
“So, this is vengeance? That’s never a good idea for business,” Roman said with a frown.
Midas shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Sure, part of it is about sticking it to the prick. But it has other side benefits too. Like taking the heat off you. Blaze and Raz weren’t best buddies or anything, but Blaze isn’t the sort to let this kind of thing go. He’ll come for you.”
“Then I’ll deal with him the same way I dealt with his brother.” Roman wasn’t worried.
“I’m sure you would,” Midas agreed. “But why bother if you don’t have to? Let us deal with him. Besides, if you thought Raz was a cunt, you haven’t seen anything yet. Blaze is the biggest fuck-knuckle I’ve ever met.”
Abel snickered. “Fuck-knuckle.”
Roman snorted in amusement as well. “Are you planning to move your club into the city?” he questioned next.
Midas shook his head. “No. At least not permanently. Our clubhouse is in Dalton. It was a labor of love to get it built. I have no intention of leaving our home. But expansion is good. I know Raz ran The Morgue—a good club, by all accounts. I’m confident my brothers could make it great.”
“You run drugs?” Roman asked. There was a lot to arrange, but he was already leaning towards agreeing with Midas. He had some excellent points. And sticking it to an enemy was one Roman could appreciate. He also didn’t seem like a bad sort, and Roman prided himself on his judgment of character. Roman had a lot of MC members working for him at Omertà. He appreciated their sense of loyalty.
Midas frowned, shaking his head. “Nah, man. Not into drugs. Weapons mostly, but we diversify a little. I’d be happy to tell you more about it if we end up striking a deal.”
Roman nodded his head, banging his fist on the table once. “I’m not a fan of drugs, personally. Especially in my city. There’s enough of that shit around, so if you’d said yes, my answer would have been no.”
“We’re not dealers. Or peddlers,” Midas guaranteed.
“I believe you,” Roman assured him.
Midas took a deep breath, looking relieved. “So, do we have a deal?”
Roman looked at Abel. His friend nodded his head almost imperceptibly. But it was enough for Roman to know that Abel agreed; Midas was an okay guy. “I already own clubs, as well as most of the property at the marina. I have no interest in the warehouse district. If you and your club do have an interest...” He paused, inclining his head at Midas. “I’d be okay with that. For a small percentage as a silent partner.”
“How small?” Midas asked, his gray eyes narrowing sharply.
Roman’s grin was slow in forming. It was negotiation time. This was the fun part. “Forty percent.”
“Forty? The fuck?!” Crow exclaimed.
