‘And you, Joe?’ Sam turned to Alan. ‘You staying on to bring these guys down or what?’

Alan smiled sheepishly. His hand was on the table, his fingers interlinked with Alex’s. He lifted his Scotch and took a sip.

‘I think I have a few ends to tie up here and then a lot of things I need to figure out.’

‘Cheers to that.’ Sam held up his beer, and the three of them drew their drinks together.

‘What about you?’ Alan asked, and Sam sat back and took a second. He hadn’t really thought about the next step. For so long, all he’d known was the pain of his son’s death, followed by the relentless need to fight back against a system that neglected so many.

He smiled and then recoiled; his face still heavy with bruising from Edinson’s assault.

‘I think I’m going to go home.’ Sam shrugged. Before Alan could answer, two motorbikes shot around the corner, their engines echoing down the high street as they approached the bar. Wyatt and Mason pulled their bikes to a stop just outside the bar, causing a few of the Riders to scramble inside, no doubt to give everyone the heads up. Wyatt dismounted and strode confidently towards the table, where all three of them turned to face him.

‘Afternoon ya’ll.’ Wyatt smirked, lifting a cigarette to his mouth. As he fumbled in his pockets, he removed the ziplock bag with the cotton swab and tossed it across the bench to Alan. ‘Here. Catch.’

Sam raised his stitched eyebrow in confusion at Alan.

‘Side project.’ Alan shrugged, turning back to Wyatt. ‘So, what now?’

‘I think we’ll clean up the mess. Drive the last of Vasquez’s empire south of the border.’ Wyatt took a long puff. ‘We won’t stop our business, but we’ll sure as shit shut down whatever they’d built. That going to be a problem?’

‘I don’t know.’ Alan sipped his Scotch. ‘Still figuring out my next move.’

‘Hell, if you want a jacket and a hog, let me know.’ Wyatt chuckled. ‘Same goes for you too, Sam.’

‘Thanks, but I’m good.’ Sam chuckled. ‘I think it’s time I went home. Been a rough week.’

‘Well, if you ever change your mind.’ Wyatt held his hand out, and Sam took it, shaking it firmly. The man was a criminal, but Sam wasn’t exactly a saint. But most importantly, the man had saved Alex’s life, and for that, he would be eternally grateful. Sam turned, only for a rock-solid fist to catch him square in the gut, causing him to hunch over and gasp for air. Mason stepped back, chuckling, as Wyatt signalled to Alan to calm down.