Chapter 10
NICK
My office door opens, and Samson strolls in with a shit-eating grin. “I take it from your side of the conversation that advising Cheryl didn’t go so well.”
“You got nothing better to do than listen at my door?”
“Shit, did you forget that my office is right next to yours, the walls are paper-thin, and you spent a good part of that conversation yelling?”
“Very fuckin’ funny.”
“I’m assuming Cheryl didn’t take your advice about Pierce. I’m also guessing she spent a few minutes ripping you a new one?”
“How come you didn’t just tell her outright what that bastard said?”
“‘Cause I didn’t wanna freak her out. She thinks she’s invincible. Fuckin’ woman has a mind of her own.”
“Exactly what you love about her.”
“If she thought someone was threatening our family, who the fuck knows what she’d do.” I swipe my phone off my desk. “Just makes protecting her so damn hard.”
“I gotta get outta here. Let’s have that holiday drink Joker offered at the Gold Mine.”
“You sure? Don’t you think you should go home?”
“If I go home now, Cheryl and I will just get into it again. Anyway, Joker said Boa looked deeper into Pierce for me, and I wanna see what he found out. I gotta figure a way to beat that bastard, ‘cause there’s no fuckin’ way I’m letting him take Wicked from us or make trouble for Cheryl.”
“You know I feel the same way about Pierce, but maybe you should go home and smooth shit out there first. Let it go till after Christmas.”
“No fuckin’ way. I gotta put the business first, and that means talking to Cobra.”
The ten-minute walk to the Serpents’ clubhouse did nothing to clear my brain.
Pierce’s ultimatum, him knowing Cheryl, and her not even mentioning she knew him until I asked her point-blank—what the fuck was that about?
Way too many loose ends for my liking because life taught me to always be on the lookout for potential problems, and Graham Pierce is a big fuckin’ potential problem.
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, including Bugsy 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 of don’t fuck with me muscle, 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 some interesting 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.”
“Blackmail.”
“Basically, yeah. He’s got no boundaries and will go after whatever gets results. Families, including women and children, if it gets the desired outcome.’
“Fuck!” Just what I suspected.
“Let’s face it. A lot of guys in this business aren’t squeaky clean, and if he can’t find something to use, he’ll make it happen.
Supposedly, he set up a guy with an underage girl who was working for him, got the whole thing on tape, then threatened to go to the cops.
Sometimes he sets up a married guy getting balls-deep in a chick who ain’t his wife, or a married guy getting balls-deep in another guy. ”
“Shit,” Samson pours himself another shot, “and he never gets caught?”
“Not so far. Between his daddy’s money and power, plus the money he’s accumulated, he’s practically untouchable.
“Pierce has a huge Beverly Hills estate, but he also has some villa in Pacific Palisades where he holds parties for all his rich clients,” Joker adds.
“No big deal, except most of the women he invites are underage. Plus, he has hidden cameras in all the rooms which makes blackmailing his famous friends that much easier.”
Rattler waves his hand at the topless women. “Nobody likes to party like the Serpents, but from what we hear, this guy has a habit of picking only young girls, and when I say young, I mean under sixteen.”
“Our sources say Pierce makes Epstein look like Walt Disney,” Cobra confirms.
“No doubt the Serpents like to crank it up,” Rattler says, “but we never prey on children.”
“Right, and every woman here is legal,” Cobra adds.
“The bouncers at the door make sure of it. The women are here ‘cause they wanna be. Pierce, on the other hand, hires underage girls just for that purpose. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of guys out there who don’t give a shit if the girl is willing or legal. ”
Cobra leans in to the table. “The bottom line is Pierce will stop at nothing to acquire more clubs and more property. Ever wonder how he has such a large portfolio? All smoke and mirrors. He just keeps pushing and stirring up shit until the owner gives in. Doesn’t hurt that he and his daddy have a few elected officials in their pocket too.
“This new information changes everything,” Cobra refills my glass, and I shoot it, hoping booze does its job.
“This fucker is definitely dangerous,” Samson confirms.
“Glad we could be of service,” Cobra says. “Any other help you need, let us know.”
Although the Serpents live on the edge of society, and Samson and I try to play by the rules now, we all have the same background.
Fighting our way to the top at any cost. Samson and I worked hard to sever our ties with the Brooklyn mob, but deep down we still live the motto: Fuck With Me, and I’ll Fuck You Worse.
I run my finger around the rim of my glass. “There’s someone else I’d like Boa to check out.”
“Problem?” Cobra asks.
“Nothing urgent. Somebody popped up from my past.”
“That’s never good.” Cobra laughs around his words.
“I don’t think it’s an issue. The guy’s a fuckin’ loser, but I wanna look into it anyway. Got a lot more at stake now with Cheryl and Portia back in my life.”
“I feel ya, brother.” Joker leans in. “Especially after the shit I went through on Halloween.”
“Yeah, back in the day, me and Samson were balls out all the time. It’s different once you got family depending on you.”
“Shit, remember that one time we were doin’ collections for Frank down by the pier?” Samson laughs. “And the stupid fucker makes a run for it.”
I laugh ‘cause I know where Samson’s story is headed.
“So, we chase this fucker through an abandoned warehouse. He pushes out the back door and snags his jeans on this piece of metal. He keeps going, and the metal shreds the material of his jeans. So now we’re chasing him down the pier, and he keeps running while tryin’ to keep his pants up.
Mind you, it’s January, and it’s cold as fuck. ”
“Me and him,” I jerk my thumb at Samson, “are laughing our asses off.”
“The moron gets to the end of pier, spins around, his jeans fall to his ankles, he loses his balance and falls into the fuckin’ water bare-assed.”
“How much did he owe?” Cobra asks.
“All that bullshit for a grand.”
“Fuck.” Joker shakes his head.
“Then we grab his jeans still on the pier, rifle through his pockets and come up with most of it while he’s splashing around in the freezing cold water.”
“Shit, sounds like the time—”
“Hey, baby, I’ve never seen you in here before.” The blonde who’d been humping the pole earlier leans over my shoulder, practically pushing her tits in my face.
“Back off, Gia; he’s taken,” Joker says.
“Let me hear it from him then.” She leans in close enough to smell her too-sweet perfume.
“Sorry, babe, he’s right. I’m taken,” I confirm.
“Won’t be the first man I’ve corrupted.” She runs her nails down the front of my shirt. “You own Club Wicked, right?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s so cool.” She sneaks her dangerously long nails between the buttons of my shirt. “I’ve been there a few times. Very sexy place. Those piranhas swimming in the floor are mad crazy.”
I remove her hand. “Not interested, babe.”
“Move on, Gia,” Cobra orders.
She gives me one more smile, straightens, turns and makes sure I get the full show as she leaves, twisting her hips with every step.
I smile at Cobra. “I’m sure she’s very popular.”
“Gia’s a headliner at Ecstasy with a large following. She just doesn’t know when to give up.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I swipe at it, stand and head for the back hall where it’s slightly quieter. “Hey.”
“Where are you?” Cheryl asks.
“Me and Samson are at the Gold Mine.” I’m hoping adding Samson lends credibility.
“The Gold Mine?”
“Joker wanted us to stop in for a drink.”
“I see. So you miss your daughter’s recital, then tell me you’re too busy to host a holiday party, but you have time to hang out at the Gold Mine with Joker.”
Cheryl never lets me slide. A characteristic I love and hate.
“I came here to find out some information I need for Wicked.”
“You know, Nick, I’d almost rather hear you were ogling the strippers, but of course you can make time for business.”
“I’m leaving soon.”
“Hey, baby, what are you doing back here all by yourself?” Gia drapes her arm over my shoulder.
“Who the hell is that?” Cheryl roars.
“Hang up that phone, and let’s have a party.” Gia unties her halter top, throws it to the floor and shakes her enormous tits. “C’mon, baby, I know you wanna fuck them.”
“Get the fuck outta here.” I turn my back to her.
“You know what? I was wrong. It is way worse that you’re ogling strippers,” Cheryl barks. “Stay as long as you want.”
“Wait, you don’t—”
The call disconnects, and I glare at Gia. “You shouldn’t have done that.”