Figure out how to get Alex out of there.

As he strode purposefully across the parking lot, Sinclair’s words echoed in his mind.

‘I’m a man of my word.’

Sam chuckled.

‘So am I.’

* * *

As the van pulled out of the Walmart parking lot and back onto the highway, Sinclair rolled down the passenger window and blew out a mouthful of smoke. With Alan behind the wheel, Sinclair watched with disdain as the small town of Dillon passed him by. Unlike his partner, Sinclair had never been to war. Had never fought for his country.

Not on the battlefields, at least.

His fight had been on the drugs that had ravaged his great nation, and despite fighting the good fight for over two decades, he felt no closer to winning.

All he had was a bleak acceptance of failure and a deep resentment for dedicating his life to a noble yet unwinnable cause.

He’d never had a family. Never been married. The job had consumed his life and with retirement looming in a few years, all he had to look forward to was a decent pension and no one to share his golden years with.

Bringing down the Riders would at least provide a modicum of comfort to him, and he was sure that once it was over, there would be no job left for him.

At the wheel, Alan signalled and turned the corner, heading back towards the hotel where they’d been holed up for months. He was a good man and Sinclair was envious of the honour with which he went about his work. Despite being honourably discharged by the marines, Joe Alan was still very much a soldier and Sinclair felt a pang of guilt for what their mission was doing to him.

When the Riders were no more, Alan would be a changed man.

But when you deal with the dirt, your hands get mucky.

Alan caught Sinclair looking at him out of the corner of his eye and turned to his partner.

‘You okay?’ Alan asked, his eyes returning to the road.

‘Yeah, just peachy.’ Sinclair flicked the cigarette out of the window. ‘Just thinking.’

‘About Cooper?’

‘Do you believe him?’

Alan shook his head.

‘I didn’t believe a word he said.’ A smile came across the burley agent’s lips, his neatly trimmed goatee rising with the grin. ‘His ID checks out. No criminal record. No military service. Nothing. But I know a soldier when I see one. So, whoever the fuck he is, it isn’t an old friend just stopping by.’

‘You think he’s a mercenary? Working for Vasquez, maybe?’

Alan shrugged his broad shoulders and then slowed the van, guiding the wheel expertly with one hand and lining the van perfectly into the parking bay outside the hotel.