The prospect at the door flags us in, and I smile as the smell of beer, leather and smoke fills my lungs. One of the only places in Vegas where smoking is still allowed because the Serpents said “fuck you” to the rules and have the backing of Metro to let it stand. As one of the most notorious MCs in Southern Nevada, the Serpents write their own rules.
Cobra, the president, and Python, the sergeant-at-arms, bought this place about seven years ago. It was broken down and in need of repair, but they turned it around to its original glory—an old-time western bar with a history, includingBugsy Siegel as a regular customer. Last year, they put in an actual speakeasy in the basement—by invitation only—and apparently they are raking it in.
“Who let the suit in? At least Samson looks like he belongs here.” Rattler, the road captain, yells from behind the bar. “Get your asses over here for a real drink. Not that fancy cocktail shit you sell over at Wicked.”
Rattler glares at two guys at the end of the bar and magically we have seats. By the time we sit down, we’re staring at two shots of Jack Daniels.
A heavy hand hits my shoulder. “What the hell are you fuckers doin’ here?” Cobra motions for a shot, and Rattler sets up his glass, then leaves the bottle.
“Taking Joker up on that holiday drink.” We clink glasses and shoot the whisky.
We have to shout over Mick Jagger trying to get some satisfaction, and the hooting and hollering for a topless girl spinning around the pole on a makeshift stage, but it’s all good. Just what I need to forget the last twenty-four hours. Back in the day, places like this were the regular for Samson and me, and sometimes I miss it.
“Who the fuck let these guys in?” Joker joins us, grabs the bottle and herds us to the back of the room.
We settle at a table off to the side that’s a little quieter. Joker refills our glasses, then nods at me. “You look like shit. Definitely not in the holiday spirit.”
“Got a lot on my mind.” I turn to Cobra. “Joker said you had a meet with Graham Pierce.”
“Yeah, a few months ago.” Cobra plugs a smoke between his lips, and Joker lights him up.
“How’d it go?” I ask.
“It didn’t.” Cobra wasn’t known for his run-on sentences.
“Explain.”
“Didn’t like the guy. Thought there was something screwy about him.”
“You didn’t do any business with him?” Samson asks.
“Fuck no. Anyway, we handle our own shit. Safer that way.”
“How’d you meet him?” I’m trying to get an idea how long Pierce has been floating around Vegas.
“He approached Boa, said he had a very lucrative offer for us, but you know Boa.” Cobra laughs around his words. “Checked his ass out from top to bottom.
Boa was the Serpents tech genius. The guy stood six foot, five inches ofdon’t fuck with memuscle, but he has some fancy accounting degree from UCLA, which makes him perfect for washing all the Serpents’ dirty money. According to Cobra, Boa filters it all through their legit businesses like a professional.
“What did he come up with?”
“Boa got the impression Pierce wanted him to flip on us. He knew Boa handles our finances and figured he could offer him a little extra on the side, but what he didn’t know was the biker code. Club business stays club business. Brothers First, Club Always.”
“Interesting.” I nod. “Looks like Pierce has his fingers in a few pots.”
“Boa can smell bullshit a mile away. He shut him down before he even got started.”
Samson and I exchange a look. Interesting since Pierce approached Jax before us. Maybe he was looking for information from him too, but Jax wouldn’t spill. We’d all come up together in Brooklyn, Jax would never . . . Right?
“When Joker told me yesterday that you were looking into doing business with him, I had Boa do a deeper dive.” Cobra sips at the whiskey. “Boa found out someinteresting shit on the guy. I figured I’d wait till after the holidays, but since you’re here now, might as well spit it all out.”
I refill my glass and shoot the smoky liquor, already knowing I’m gonna hate Cobra’s next words.
“Seems Graham Pierce has a very interesting way of doing business. If the client goes with what he offers, all good, which explains the glowing reviews that are publicized. But if he gets any indication that they may not sign with him, he plays dirty.”
“Explain.”
“He digs into the clients’ past, then holds it over their head as leverage.”
