‘Alex?’ Sam looked at her with confusion as she withdrew her hand. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Seriously. You’re going to fuck things up.’

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see one of the Riders slam his drink down on the bar and begin to wade through the group towards them.

Time was running out. As Alex tried to step out from around the bar, Sam took a step towards her.

She was terrified.

‘Alex, I didn’t mean to leave you. I had to go back. You know I did.’

‘And I’m doing what I have to do.’ Alex glanced over Sam’s shoulder at the incoming man. ‘Look, you need to leave.’

‘Okay. I’m staying at the Welcome Motel. Come and find me.’

Before Alex could respond, Sam felt a hand drop on his shoulder. With a sigh, he turned around, coming face to face with the crooked grin of Eddie Sykes. The man was taller than Sam by a few inches and was stocky. His arms, covered in ink, were well rounded and burst through the leather vest he wore. Around his neck, he wore dog tags, something that Sam would have respected if he weren’t completely sure the man was a criminal.

‘You lost, pal?’ Sykes asked, a small threat underlining the question.

‘No, I’m fairly sure this is The Pit, right?’

‘Ah, so it is you.’ Sykes removed his hand from Sam’s shoulder, interlocked his fingers, and cracked them. ‘Been waiting for you to show up.’

‘Well, I’m going now so…’

‘The fuck you are.’ Sykes’ eyes flared with fury. ‘Now, as far as I’m concerned, I’d love to break every bone in your fucking body and then leave you in the fucking woods for the wolves. But Wyatt, he wants a word with you.’

‘Who’s Wyatt?’

Sykes didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped to the side, ushering Sam through. Knowing full well one wrong move would probably be his last, Sam shrugged and obliged, stepping past Sykes, who then shoved him roughly in the direction of the back corner of the bar. All eyes were on them, but Sam noticed the heads turn away as he approached the far table. As they arrived, two scantily dressed women were sent away, and they scurried back across the bar. Sat in the booth, keeping a watchful eye over the evening’s proceedings, was Wyatt. His grey hair was cropped short, with most of it obscured by a bandana. His strong jaw, covered with a well-trimmed beard was dark, tinged with the same grey that blessed his head. His dark eyes pierced through Sam, regarding him with both intrigue and disgust.