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“I downloaded the footage.” Jax opened his laptop, swiped and tapped on the keyboard, then streamed the contents onto the flat screen TV hanging on the wall. He pushed another button and the picture came alive.
They all watched as three guys dressed in black from head to toe disarmed the security system with a handheld device, then entered through the back door of the club. They mostly kept their backs to the cameras, but when they did turn around their face masks only revealed their eyes.
“Shit,” Nick hissed.
Watching the calculated destruction made Nick’s stomach churn. This wasn’t some whacked out junkies or kids pulling a prank, this was planned and well executed. The vandalism lasted only fifteen minutes and the time stamp showed the exact time Nick usually showed up at the club.
The screen went blank and Samson told Jax to play it again. This time he moved closer to the screen for a better look, but Nick stayed rooted on the couch. He couldn’t shake the replay of Samson’s accusing words, or the hollow pit in in stomach saying he might be right.
16
Another knock on the door pulled their attention away from the TV screen.
“I asked Cobra to come by,” Samson said.
Cobra, the Serpents MC president, and Joker, the VP, strode into the room. They shared nods and fist bumps, then Jax hit the replay button on his laptop and they all watched the screen in silence.
When it ended Samson turned to Cobra. “Anything about them look familiar? I know they’re covered in black, but maybe a gesture, a movement—something.”
Cobra joined Nick on the couch. “Nah, nothing. Definitely professionals. They kept their backs to the cameras with just glimpses of their profiles.”
“It was a long shot,” Nick added, then lit up another smoke. “Have you or your guys heard about anything going down? A grievance against the club or some punks bragging about their latest job.”
The Serpents ruled Southern Nevada and claimed Vegas as their home. Their connection with Metro was tight, and not toomuch happened with other clubs in the area or local gangs they didn’t know about.
Joker pointed to the screen. “Rewind it and stop it when the second guy enters the storeroom.”
Jax tapped at his keyboard, rewound the tape, and when the second guy entered he froze it. “What do you see?”
“Not sure,” Joker said. “Blow it up.”
Jax blew up the image and Joker pointed to the guy’s neck where the face mask had separated from the edge of his long sleeved t-shirt. “Look.”
They peered at the screen closer.
“That’s the top of a flame and the pointed ears of a rat. The Desert Rats logo.”
“Fuck, you’re right.” Cobra moved closer to the screen.
“Aren’t they the MC you shut down last year?” Samson asked.
“Sure the fuck did, but it looks like they’ve resurfaced,” Cobra said. “I’ve been hearing shit about them setting up shop way out in the desert, but I figured it was just bullshit.”
Nick drew deep on his smoke. “What would they have to do with us?”
“Nothing I can see.” Joker turned from the TV. “You opened the club way after we ran them outta Vegas.”
“Unless they were hired out.” Cobra plugged a cig between his lips and Joker lit him up. “Before we shut them down, they made their scratch as hired guns. No job too big or too small as long as they got paid.”
Samson shook his head. “We have no connections to them. Why would they be targeting us?”
“If they’re trying to build back up again, they need cash.”
“And maybe somebody hired them to do this job. Purposely picking somebody off the grid,” Nick said. “Somebody we’d never suspect.”
Joker eased into the other chair and they sat in silence weighing the validity of Nick’s words.
“Frank.” Samson spit the name out.
