Although the January cold bore down hard on us, I couldn’t help enjoying the sunshine and the freedom of being outside of the compound. Our contact point was about two miles from the compound, which Rodriguez had chosen to put us Raiders at ease of not being far from home. We pulled into the parking lot of a rather run-down Mexican restaurant, which I’d previously had no idea was involved in any dirty dealings.

When we stepped inside the restaurant, I quickly scanned the room. A waitress hurried up to us. “Come with me,” she said.

“Guess she knows we’re not here for the food,” Bishop mused.

We were led to a back room that had once been used for private parties. Two men sat at one of the tables. They rose to their feet at the sight of us. “Please come in. You’re very welcome,” the older of the two said.

When I stood before him, he offered me his hand. “I’m Hector’s cousin, Juan. He flew me in to meet with you.”

After shaking his hand, I introduced him to Deacon and the others. As we sat down, beer and bottles of tequila appeared from several waitresses. I took a beer to ease some of the tension I couldn’t help feeling.

Since you never wanted a paper trail of your dealings, everything was done verbally. Your word was your bond, along with a handshake. “So I’m to understand that the Georgia chapter of the Raiders will no longer deal in guns to other sources. Instead, your shipments will come to us in Juárez via your brothers in the El Paso club,” Juan said.

“We’re going legitimate.”

Juan’s eyes widened. “Interesting. Too much bloodshed or too much heat from the authorities?”

“Too much blood.”

“Although I cannot totally understand your desire, I greatly appreciate it, since it will benefit our organization.”

I smiled. “I’m glad you see it that way.”

Juan glanced at the still-nameless man at his side before turning back to me. “I understand you ask for no money in return.”

“That is true.”

“Your generosity comes in the form of the elimination of one man. Manuel Mendoza.”

I shifted in my seat. “I never asked for his termination. Merely for protection.”

“He killed two of your El Paso brothers, did he not?”

“Yes. That is true.”

“And he is your fiancée’s rapist, true?”

Sucking in a harsh breath, I tried to still my emotions. Juan had hit a raw nerve by mentioning Annabel. “Yes. He is,” I spat out through gritted teeth.

“So tell me why this man deserves to live.”

Before I could respond, Deacon growled, “We came to make a deal, not to be fucked with!”

Juan’s lips quirked up in a smile. “My apologies.”

I cleared my throat. “Excuse my brother. He is very protective.”

“It is understandable. I was merely feeling you out on the subject.”

“You would take out one of your loyal lieutenants for a deal?”

“Members of our organization are expendable. They know that when they join.” Juan narrowed his eyes. “To say that Mendoza is loyal would be far too complimentary. He’s always had his own agenda. But that stays within these walls.”

“I understand,” I replied.

Juan extended his hand. “So do we have a deal?”

As I stared at his hand for a moment, I couldn’t help thinking of my old man and of Case. I hoped that what I was about to do would have made them proud. Even if we went legitimate, we would never disband the Raiders brotherhood.

I reached for Juan’s hand. “It’s a deal.”

He smiled. “I’m very glad to hear that. I will phone Hector and let him know everything is taken care of.”

“Including Mendoza?” Bishop asked.

Juan nodded. “He is no longer a threat to you.”

“My club, as well as my El Paso brothers, appreciate that.”

After Juan had shaken hands with the others, we headed out of the back room. When we got outside the restaurant, I exhaled the breath that I felt I had been holding since Mendoza had reared his head again.

“How does it feel to be just a regular old biker?” Bishop asked.

Deacon snorted. “Until we unload the gambling at the gym, we’re only half-legitimate.”

With a grin, Bishop asked, “So we’re basically a bastard?”

“You’re always a bastard,” I replied.

“Har fucking har,” he muttered, as he slid across the seat of his bike.

After putting on my helmet, I gunned my bike’s engine. We then rode out of the parking lot, me speeding ahead of my brothers. I couldn’t wait to get back to Annabel.

Just as we rounded the curve about a mile from home, the unmistakable sound of gunfire rang out. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Deacon and Bishop spin out, their bikes crashing onto the pavement. When Mac tried to miss their combined heap of metal, he overcorrected, sending him careening into the ditch. When they didn’t move, I didn’t know if it was from the bike wreck injuries or if they had been shot. I started to turn my bike around when a bullet hit my back tire, and it was my turn to slide along the asphalt.

After struggling until my bike came to a stop, I lay on my back trying to catch my breath and heard squealing tires. Turning my head, I watched as a car came speeding toward us. Furiously I started trying to pull myself out from under my bike. The car screeched to a stop, and a man jumped out just as I wiggled free. I had no time to reach around my back for my own gun before the muzzle of a pistol was pointed at my head.