“Bikers for hire,” Mirage said. “That’s new.”
“Not that new,” 8-Ball said. “Name was Steel Serpents. Gray and gunmetal cuts. Black coiled snake patch. Didn’t take territorial claims. Didn’t care about brotherhood, either. They answered to cash only. Vincinos, mostly. Word was they used them when they didn’t want to dirty regular soldiers.”
The name slithered through the room and stayed there.
“Steel Serpents,” Priest repeated. “Cute.”
Jackal’s eyes went wide. Badger froze mid-breath. Turnpike frowned like he was filing it away for later.
“I haven’t heard that name in years,” 8-Ball said. “Figured they’d died out. Or got absorbed. But those bikes tonight moved like they had drill instructors in their mirrors. Formation like a unit. No color pride. All business. Patches looked right, though it was too dark to be certain.”
“A merc crew on our roads,” Snake Eyes said. “Yeah. That fits the feeling.”
“You think Vincinos sent them?” Ace asked.
8-Ball lifted a shoulder. “Vincinos shipped the bike. They knew the route. They knew the time. If the deal changed and nobody told the Giorlandos, somebody’s lying. Mercs don’t ride for free.”
Spade’s hands clenched on his forearms. “Feels like a setup,” he said. “Giorlandos give us a bad drop, Philly mercs show up, we take fire guarding this mystery bike. That’s a long way from ‘simple escort job.”
“That’s how it feels,” I said. “Out there, it felt like we were hung out.”
“Feelings ain’t facts though,” Blackjack snapped.
Spade’s eyes flashed. “Feels like betrayal.”
“And if it is?” Blackjack said. “You want to kick the board over right now? Tell Roman Giorlando and his pretty sons we’re done? That our muscle pulls off every casino, every dock, every strip joint we guard? You ready to lock the doors and wait for what happens next?”
The anger under his words was hot enough to glow. Not at us. At the position we’d been put in.
Spade looked away first. His jaw worked. “Just saying we deserve better than this,” he muttered.
“Yeah,” Blackjack said. “We do. But we don’t start a war off a damn guess. That bike could be anyone’s. Vincino, third party, anonymous. We won’t know until we retrieve it from Redline.”
Mirage leaned forward, elbows on the table, accountant brain already running numbers only he could see. “If we cut the Giorlandos loose,” he said slowly, “we lose fifty, maybe sixty percent of our revenue overnight. High profile casino security jobs. Dock contracts. Bodyguard work. Money from the chop shops they funnel through our garages. Our cutof the clubs. That freezes up, we’re not just hurting. We’re bleeding out.”
Roadkill nodded. “That’s parts we stop buying. Bikes we stop building. Food the kids stop eating.”
In my head I saw Eve and Vicky, Roadkill’s little girls, racing their tricycles through the lot, hair tangled, faces sticky with Popsicle juice. Saw 8-Ball’s old lady Tanya leaning over the bar, laughing with Quinn. Saw Rebecca’s steady hands patching up bloody knuckles after the gauntlet.
We weren’t just bikes and bullets. We were families. Rent. Groceries. Hospital bills. School clothes.
Mirage kept going. “We got side hustles, sure. But without their money lanes, our cushion shrinks fast. We’d have to take on way more risk for way less pay, and do it without the political cover Vlad gives the family. We’d feel every badge in this city breathing down our necks twice as hard.”
“Which is why we don’t pull the trigger on that option,” Blackjack said. “Not yet.”
“But you said yourself,” Spade pushed, voice low. “If they knew that drop was hot and sent us in blind—”
“I said we don’t know what they knew,” Blackjack cut in. “For all we can prove right now, Vincinosmaybemade a move out of Philly that never made it to Roman’s ears. Steel Serpents showed up for their masters. Giorlandos got blindsided same as us.”
“You really believe that?” I asked.
“Does it matter?” he replied. “What I believe doesn’t change the map. Facts do. And we don’thave enough of those yet.”
Spade’s lip curled. He leaned closer to me, just enough that only I could hear. “The wars already started,” he said under his breath.
I didn’t answer. But the words sat there between us, a little too true.
Ace scribbled notes like his life depended on it. Snake Eyes rolled his toothpick again, then flicked it away. “I’m just going to say it one more time,” he said. “I have a bad feeling about this. Those mercs don’t show up for no reason. Nobody leaves a drop that messy by accident. We’re standing in the doorway of something bigger and the frame’s creaking.”
