Sam shuddered at the notion. The truth and guilt of Project Hailstorm still clung tightly to his conscience and being reminded of the lives he’d ended threatened to derail his focus. Sam shook the vulgar memories from his mind, readjusted the gun in his hand, and looked at Vasquez.

‘Make the call. Tell them to send Alex down here to me. Once I can see she is safe, then I’ll put the gun down.’

‘Fuck that,’ Sykes roared, the veins popping on his neck. He turned to Vasquez, who maintained his calm. ‘Order your men down here and let’s kill this asshole.’

Vasquez raised his hand to silence Sykes, encouraging more anger from the treacherous biker. Vasquez glanced to the window and then back at Sam, a smirk across his face. Perturbed, Sam glanced to the window, seeing nothing but the derelict garden, which had once been a vibrant hub of social activity.

Sykes took his chance.

Lunging across the table, he shot his arm out to grab Sam’s gun in a pathetic attempt to grasp control of the situation. Sam slid back in the chair, catching Sykes’s wrist with his other hand, and yanked him hard against the table. Swiftly, Sam shot out of his chair and pinned his knee on the back of Sykes’s wrist, twisting the hand upwards to the very edge of breaking point. He pinned Sykes’s skull to the table with his gun.

‘Do something,’ Sykes mumbled to Vasquez, who watched in annoyance.

‘Word of advice, Sykes. When you find yourself in a hole, you should quit digging.’ Sam leant down on the wrist, causing Sykes to yelp in agony. With the gun firmly pressed against Sykes’s head, Sam looked to Vasquez. ‘Last chance, Vasquez. Make the call.’

With the situation escalating, Vasquez looked back and forth between both men. Sam had become an irritant that could derail the entire deal, and as he watched his new partner exude such vulnerability, Vasquez sighed. He pulled his phone from his pocket and lazily slid his fingers across the screen.

Then he stopped and looked Sam in the eye.

‘I don’t think I’ll need to.’

Sam squinted in confusion, and Vasquez looked beyond him and over his shoulder. Sam turned, realising he was too late as Edinson’s powerful fist collided with his jaw. With his knee on the table, Sam lost his balance, spiralling to the left, and crashed into another vacant table.

His gun spilled onto the floor.

Vasquez stood immediately, buttoning his blazer and looking at Sam with disgust.

‘I offered you a way out of this,’ he said coldly. ‘A way for both you and her. Sadly, you’ll have to die knowing you made the wrong choice.’