Jasper’s bike rumbles into the lot first, with Slate at his left shoulder and Onyx on the right. A couple of prospects are following behind them. I can see a bunch more in the distance bringing up the rear. Good thing, because it’s going to take all of us to put this place back together again.
Striker is behind the prospects. He climbs off his bike and gets his laptop out of the top box
They all approach me at the same time. They’re all eyes because it’s been a long fucking time since any of our properties were trashed like this. Normally, our enemies don’t get this close without us noticing and shoving them back twice as hard.
Slate growls, “This is some kind of shitshow.”
Ignoring his brother, Jasper says, “It’s fucking show and tell time, Jinx. What the fuck happened?”
I give the officers a walkthrough, laying out everything I’ve seen and everything I know is missing so far.
I take Jasper, Slate, and Onyx to the storage room. Striker is already there, staring into the empty cage. The second I mentioned the cage had been broken into, he came straight here to see for himself. “You weren’t joking when you said they took every fuckin’ thing I had locked up in here. The whole reason I brought this stuff here was so it would be double locked, in a locked cage behind a fucking locked door.”
“How much was your equipment worth?” Jasper asks. “Give me a ballpark figure. How much is it gonna take to replace it?”
“It’s upwards of fifteen grand. There were two cases of trackers, the dashcam shipment, boosters, cameras, and battery packs.”
When he finishes, Jasper’s quiet for a few seconds before asking the question we’re all thinking. “Reckon they’re planning on sellin’ it or do they have a use for that shit?”
Striker shrugs. “The list is pretty fuckin’ extensive, Prez. Depends on whether they have anyone who can build shit. If so, they could build everything from cheap drones with high-res cameras to a comprehensive surveillance network, or they could tag our vehicles with those trackers to monitor our movements.”
“You reckon they have someone who knows what they’re doing?”
Striker doesn’t answer right away, but I can see the wheels turning in his head. “Yeah,” he says. “I think they might. They disabled our security system without triggering it, removed our exterior cameras, and scoured the whole shop for tech. The Hyenas either got themselves an IT guy, or they outsourced the job to someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.”
Slate adds, “And they didn’t need to steal from us to pay for it.”
Onyx sighs, “Alright, I’ll be the one to say it. They’ve got cartel backing again this time.”
Jasper looks from one to the other of us before doling out jobs.
“Jinx, I want you to pick through this mess. I want a list of every single thing that’s missing in my hand before lunch. While you’re doing that, I’ll get some prospects busy removing the fuckin’ graffiti from our shop immediately.”
“Roger that, Prez.”
“Slate, I want you to ground all club movement until all our bikes are checked for trackers. Every vehicle gets checked before entering or leaving the compound or any club properties.”
“Sure,” Slate says.
“Striker, we need you to dig up everything you can on the Hyenas. Don’t worry about repairing the security here. I’m gonna get prospects to provide round-the-clock security. They can bunk up in the back room and take turns.”
“You want to sweep the garage and salvage yard?”
“Yeah, do that first and then dig up what you can on the Hyenas. I want to know where they’re located this time around, who’s funding them, and who’s running the show.”
He looks at me again. “How about you, Jinx? Are you good?”
I glance up from the spreadsheet on the tablet I just grabbed. “What? Of course, I am. What kind of question is that?”
Jasper frowns at me. “It’s me checking on how you’re fuckin’ coping, brother. There’s no shame in getting thrown for a loop over this shit. You know that, right?”
“I’m not anything but fuckin’ pissed. I don’t need any hand holdin’. I need to do my job, put this business back together, and then get shitfaced and maybe laid tonight.”
Jasper rolls his eyes, clearly amused by my words. “I don’t know why I ever doubted your copin’ skills for a minute, brother.”
I begin taking stock of what’s missing, one square foot at a time. That’s when I run across my ring display case. Some asshole pushed it behind the counter, where it smashed against the concrete floor. I kneel down and gather up the rings scattered among the glass. According to my count, I’m missing three rings. Making rings from sterling silver coins and spoon handles is my downtime side hustle. For a while, that brought customers through the door from miles around. Maria Delgado is eight years old. Her Communion is next Friday. Her ring is one of the missing rings. I’ll have to find the time to make her another custom ring in the middle of all this chaos.
Striker joins me a few minutes later, his laptop open and balanced on one forearm as he walks. He stops in front of me. “Jinx, I just thought about something to do with those trackers.”
