Mason scowled, sizing up to Sykes, and as the only member of the Riders who matched Sykes for size, a murmur of excitement spread through the few Riders in the bar. Donnie, who had accompanied Mason to Dillon watched in fascination, his face heavily plastered up from being introduced to the solid oak bar back in New York. Jay had stayed behind, his shattered knee rendering him useless for the next few months.

Sykes took a second to admire Cooper’s handiwork, glad that the man had been taken care of by Vasquez.

‘It seems you already dished out the receipt on my behalf,’ Mason growled. ‘I don’t need you fighting for me.’

‘Could have fooled me.’ Sykes raised his finger to the young lady behind the bar, signalling for a late morning drink. ‘So, where’s Trent?’

Mason sighed and turned to the bar, resting his meaty forearms on the wood. For all intents and purposes, he’d bought Sykes’s lie.

‘No idea.’ Mason shook his head. ‘Few of the guys are worried. Unlike the boss to not show up. Especially with the cops asking questions.’

‘What questions?’ Sykes raised his eyebrows, lifting the fresh beer to his lips. ‘About the shit down in Marion?’

‘You heard about that?’

‘A little.’ Sykes shrugged. ‘I did a little too much last night. Am a bit hazy today.’

Mason regarded Sykes with a quizzical eyebrow and then lifted his own beer.

‘You look like you’ve been dragged through a bush backwards.’ Mason gulped almost half the bottle in one. ‘Maybe lay off the dust, eh?’

‘Don’t tell me what to do. That’s not your place.’

A few of the other Riders turned away, not wanting to be caught staring at the growing tension between the more senior members. Mason chuckled.

‘That’s always been your problem, Eddie. Always worried about how close your seat is to Trent. I bet you were happy as a pig in shit when I went to New York.’ Mason flashed a glance to Sykes, who shrugged his agreement. ‘But here’s the kicker. I ain’t here to nail that poncy little British bastard. Trent called me back because he thinks you’re cooking something on the side. Man to man, I don’t think you’ve got the balls for it. But seeing as how I trust Wyatt’s judgment way more than I trust yours, I’m going to give you an hour to come up with a better excuse than you were high as a kite last night.’

Sykes slammed his beer down and leant in close, his lips a mere inch from Mason’s ear.

‘I’d be very careful if I were you.’ Sykes warned, his words laced with imminent threat. ‘Very careful.’