And with every boot he laid into the man’s midriff, Sykes realised that the same fate would soon befall Vasquez.

‘Enough.’

A voice boomed out from the other side of the courtyard. Everyone spun on the spot except Sykes, who squatted down and spat on the pained face of Wyatt. The exclamation point of his betrayal. Raul raised the gun at the hooded figure who was walking towards them, his hand raised in peace. Despite the gesture of goodwill, Raul kept the gun locked on him, nodding to Edinson to flank him. Emilio stood at the far end of the forecourt, covered in the shade afforded by the gigantic structure. Behind him was a door to an outhouse, where Alex had been locked inside.

‘That’s far enough,’ Raul commanded, emphasising his point by steadying his arm. ‘Drop the bag.’

‘Let’s all just calm down.’ The man spoke calmly, the voice of experience. ‘There is a deal to be made here and a partnership to forge. So how about we just lower the weapons, eh?’

After a few moments, Raul lowered his arm, removing his finger from the trigger. The man turned to Sykes and shook his head.

‘I think he’s had enough.’

Sykes shrugged and stepped away from Wyatt, who was trying desperately to breathe through the pain. Raul approached the man, sceptical of the sudden intrusion.

‘He’s with me,’ Sykes chimed in.

‘We said come alone.’

‘He did,’ the man interrupted. ‘Think of me as the middleman in this whole thing.’

Pulling back the hood, Sinclair nodded to Sykes, and then looked at Raul and smiled. Casually, he pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. As the smoke filtered from his mouth, he marched past Raul and approached Wyatt. As he peered over the fallen Rider, he smiled. More so at the shocked expression in the man’s eyes than the pain he was in.

‘I told you I’d get you, you son of a bitch.’

Sykes, having lit his own cigarette, pointed to Raul and repeated his question.

‘What the fuck happened to your face?’

‘There was an incident…’

‘Incident?’ Sinclair turned around. ‘What incident? Do you have the girl?’

‘Yes, she is fine.’ Raul gestured over to Emilio. ‘She is in there. Don’t worry, nothing has happened to her. A few cuts from the crash, but that’s all.’

‘Good,’ Sinclair barked, dropping his cigarette to the ground and extinguishing it under his boot. ‘Keep it that way. I don’t need her death or her rape on my conscience. Understood?’

Raul nodded, shooting a concerned look to Emilio who had made no secret of his intentions. Sinclair clocked him, noting that Alex’s safety may not be as clear cut as he thought. Sykes stepped forward, flicking his cigarette at Raul who cursed him in Spanish.

‘Hey, fuckface. Answer my fucking question.’ Sykes pointed at Raul. ‘What happened to your face?’