Page 18 of Marx

Dayz’s brows pinch. “Why would I? I’m there to dazzle them with my superior brain, not listen to gossip.” She taps some buttons on her phone, then gives me a thumbs up.

“Do you think you could go any faster, Pops? You’re a lot heavier than you look,” Remy grunts.

I should have grabbed the ladder, but with all the excitement around here getting everyone settled, the ladder is trapped in the back shed with a trailer in the way. “Sorry ladies, a little longer.”

“Ow, he’s on my boob!” Nat whisper yells, and I can hear the other women snorting.

“Those boobs are huge, surely they can cushion an old man for a little bit longer,” Mira teases.

I finish securing the camera to the upper window frame, angled just right to get the picture and sound feedback from inside the dining room.

“You people own a security company, surely you have some fancy gadget that can do all this, not an old man on a pyramid of women,” Ana says through clenched teeth.

“Nope,” Dayz answers, tapping more damn buttons. “We’re in, ladies and man. You can let Pops down now.”

“What are you doing?”

I spin from my place at the top of the pyramid at the same time Ana and Nat do, causing us to wobble wildly.

“Someone grab him!”

Mira lunges from her spot next to Dayz, using her height to wrap her arms around my waist, holding me off the ground. Gasps sound out along with a shrieking belly laugh I recognize.

“You better not tell any-”

“Oh I won’t have to tell anyone, I’ll show them.” Rider wanders off, staring at the phone in his hand before he bursts into giggles.

“We’re getting that back, right?” Mira asks, but because she’s still holding me like a wayward toddler, she breathes the wordsinto my ear, creeping me the hell out. “Oh sorry, let me just put you right…there.” She dumps me unceremoniously on the ground.

I take a good look around, checking if there are other brothers lurking out there, and thankfully I see nothing. But you can never assume shit when the DRMC is around. Dusting myself off I notice Lovely and Vi staring at us.

“So, are you gonna tell us what this was all about?” Vi asks, circling her finger in the air at us.

“Pops just put a bug at the top of the window frame so he can spy on Marx’s meeting,” Chewy says, matter of factly.

Lovely’s brows make out with her hairline, close enough they’re touching. She’s still in her wheelchair, Vi pushing her.

“Um, does Marx know you’re doing that?”

“Nope, and I’m not gonna tell him either,” I answer, packing up the random bits and pieces surrounding us. I don’t want to let on that we’re spying.

I head toward Dayz’s cabin, that’s where we’ll set up to watch Marx and the others. Debs is arranging popcorn and snacks as we speak. Obviously Lovely and Vi are just as intrigued as we are, because they follow behind. By the time we’ve made it to Dayz’s we’ve picked up a few other hangers-on. Rider has joined, as has Tank who came to give his woman a kiss and decided to stay. Mad Dog, Flack, Dex and Savage have turned up, and even though Sniper stormed out earlier this morning, he’s now back and perched on the arm of my favorite chair. I should kick him off, but the kid is having a rough time.

We all squish in as best we can, Dayz dropping the projector so everyone will be able to see better. Vi parks Lovely up next to my chair, and I pat her hand in reassurance. I know that she respects Marx, even though she should just kick him to the curb, but anyway, she respects him and I know that this will be rubbing her the wrong way. She’ll get used to it though. We’re allon some level a bunch of rebels, so she’ll come around. Besides, it’s not really spying. If we wanted to do that we would have used the really high tech stuff. This is just us playing around. Yeah.

“OK,koutou, you all, I have three different flavors of popcorn and the brownie will be out of the oven soon.” Debs says, bringing me my own plate of goodies. “I’m outta here to keep an eye on the babies. And to not get my arse kicked once Marx finds out what you lot did.”

“Technically, it was only Pops, Nat and Ana,” Chewy helpfully points out.

“Yeah, and I almost lost a titty for my troubles,” Nat grumbles.

The bickering goes on a little longer, until Marx’s voice booms through the speakers.

“Whoops, sorry guys,” Remy apologizes, frantically hitting the volume button.

The whole room settles down, except for quiet bickering about fat asses taking up too much space on the couch and so on.

“So, Roman, what do you know?”Marx asks, leaning back in the spot I usually sit in. Cheeky fucker.

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