Sinclair had told her that evening he would collect her at eleven. She didn’t need to make any excuses, as she wouldn’t be returning. It seemed a little peculiar to her, as there was no inkling of any deal or move being made by the Riders that evening. All the intel she’d provided had been useful in mapping out the operational structure of the Riders, but information of any major drug deal going deal had been absent.

But Sinclair had it on good authority.

At eleven, she would leave the bar for the last time, and Sinclair would take her to her family.

He would ensure their reunion and their safety.

Not even Sinclair’s partner, Special Agent Alan, knew anything about her. That was a slight disappointment for Alex, as she’d found herself attracted to him from the few sightings she’d managed to sneak.

But as the clock shifted another minute closer to her freedom, she recomposed herself, headed to the back and began sorting through the empties.

Ten minutes later. She snuck out of the back door, meandered through the parked motorcycles, and cut across a few back streets to where Sinclair had promised he’d be waiting.

As she approached the van, the engine kicked into life, and Sinclair pushed open the passenger door.

‘Ready to get out of here?’ he asked, a warm smile on his face.

‘Like you wouldn’t believe.’ Alex sighed as she dropped into the seat. ‘Get me out of here.’

‘Will do,’ Sinclair replied, pulling the van out into the road and putting his foot down, quickly heading towards the road that led out of Dillon. As the van raced down the highway, Joe Alan followed, his knuckles white with tension as he clung to the wheel.

In the back, Sam watched with confusion, with the feeling of uncertainty in the pit of his stomach that had been a useful weapon of his throughout his life.

It told him something wasn’t right.

That something bad was about to happen.

In hot pursuit of the van, Alan and Sam rode in silence, heading towards whatever it was that Sam was dreading.

Chapter Seventeen

As the van rumbled down the US-501, Alex could feel her muscles tightening with anxiety. Sinclair had kept his cards close to his chest, he always had, but now she was wondering what was actually going on. After picking her up from the Pit, they’d sped to the outskirts of Dillon, passing out the south side of the town and onto the highway, the wide roads vacant as always. The moon was bright, casting a wondrous glow over the terrain, which petered off into the shadows. Miles of fields, with no discernible signs of life anywhere, and Alex suddenly felt very vulnerable.

‘Are you sure it’s happening tonight?’ she asked, flashing a glance towards Sinclair. The veteran agent stared out to the road ahead, his focus locked on the destination.