“Then why the fuck did they spray-paint ‘You’re dead’? Seems personal,” Chains said, eyes fixed on the walls.
“Did they mess with you?” Muerto asked in a low voice.
“They tried to. They seemed really mad that the amount of money was so low. They started groping and hitting me. I pleaded with them not to hurt me. The taller guy kept telling the shorter one that they should go. They dragged me down the hall, tried the door on the utility closet, and when it opened, they threw me inside. They told me that if I left, they’d kill me. The door locked and I couldn’t get out.” Pressing her steepled fingers against her forehead, she muttered, “It was just so awful. I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before.”
“They obviously didn’t know they were stealing from an outlaw MC. When we find their asses, they’ll know. And if they live, they’ll never forget.” Chains slammed his hand against the wall.
When Steel walked in his face turned dark. He jerked his chin at Jaime. “Does she know who did this?”
Muerto shook his head. “She gave a bit of a description, but nothing to really go on. She’s had a bad time of it. She should go home.”
“It’s the fuckin’ Satan’s Pistons!” Army yelled while Eagle, Jigger, and Cue Ball agreed.
“Why doesn’t someone take the woman home? We got some shit we need to discuss,” Steel said.
Jigger volunteered and soon he had Jaime on the back of his bike, his cams roaring as he blasted down the street.
“It’s not Satan’s Pistons. It’s not their MO,” Crow said.
“It looks like it’s personal, like maybe it’s someone against me or Crow, or both of us. We get a lot of pissed-off dudes around here. It could be someone we threw out, or who lost big money, or whatever else.” Muerto glanced again at the threat graffitied all over the walls.
“I’m with Crow on this. Paco and I were talking about it on the way over. This isn’t their style. This reeks of some punks who wanted to rob the place. Probably don’t know it’s a Night Rebels business,” Steel said as he took out his phone. “I’ll get some people in here to fix it up. We don’t want to lose too much revenue over this.”
“Maybe they did know it was ours and that’s what the thrill was. Like kicking us in the ass,” Goldie said.
“They’re gonna be fuckin’ sorry about that stupid mistake,” Paco replied.
“Could be the punks in Pueblo. What the fuck was their name? You know, the fuckers who were kissing the Pistons’ asses.” Cue Ball rubbed his head.
“The 39thStreet Gang? Could be. That makes sense. It’s retaliation for us torching the strip bar.” Goldie leaned against the bar.
“Or the fuckers Muerto and I beat down at the junkyard,” Diablo said.
“We’ll find out who they were. Let’s get this place cleaned up.” Steel started picking up chairs.
As the brothers worked, Muerto’s gut worked overtime, and darkness filled him. He didn’t think the theft and vandalism had anything to do with the Night Rebels. A disquieting suspicion pulled at him, and he called Raven. Even though she assured him all was good, he knew it wasn’t.
Something isn’t right.
