‘I don’t think so. Jay asked, and he said no.’ Kelly shrugged. ‘Did Alex ever mention a British guy?’

‘British?’ Mason’s brow furrowed. Something didn’t feel right.

‘What’s the matter, boss?’ Donnie stood again.

‘Wyatt has been emailing me about some grief he’s been getting from the DEA. Couple of guys. Sinclair and Alan. Snooping around, trying to bring the Riders down.’ Mason stroked his beard. ‘Maybe they’ve sent someone to stir the shit here?’

‘I don’t know,’ Kelly said, biting her lip nervously. ‘He seemed like a decent guy. Said he was her friend.’

‘Kelly, you stay here,’ Mason said with authority. ‘Donnie, come with me.’

A smile spread across Donnie’s face, which drew a glare from Kelly.

‘What are we going to do?’ he asked enthusiastically.

‘I want to find out what the fuck this guy wants.’

Mason returned to his desk and pulled open the top draw. He reached in, retrieving the Ruger Super Redhawk revolver from the stack of papers. It had been a long time since he’d needed it, but he couldn’t be too careful. With a nod for Donnie to follow, Mason stomped to the door, yanked the handle, and stepped out into the bar.

* * *

Sam sat calmly on his stool, fingers wrapped around the cold, half empty bottle of beer, and he gazed up at the memorabilia above the bar. The décor had been designed to give the place the rustic appeal of a highway side biker bar, but it was as fake as the patrons. Jay hadn’t moved. The bulky man glaring at Sam in a failed attempt at intimidation. While the man carried sizeable muscle mass, Sam had already clocked the slight limp in his right leg, a clear sign of a bad knee. Undoubtedly, Jay was a scary figure to those passing through, but his considerable upper body, coupled with his age and proclivity to daytime drinking had caused his knees to weaken.

It wasn’t obvious.

But Sam was trained.

Every detail, no matter how small, was noted and processed. It was a trait that had made him a valuable weapon and one that had saved his life on many occasions.

Casually, Sam lifted his bottle of beer, but before he could bring it to his lips, the door to the office opened and Sam was greeted with a deathly stare. The man who stepped out was almost as tall as Jay, but trimmer and slightly older. His grey hair was tied back and judging by the way he was adjusting the back of his jeans, was armed. He was followed by another leather clad man, younger, and with a hint of excitement glistening in his eyes. It was unlikely they had much trouble in this bar and the man who stomped towards Sam was clearly in charge. Kelly slid out of the office and closed the door, and she offered Sam an apologetic look.