The first shot made me jump. The fusillade that followed, coming from the front of the motel, had me holding my breath. The back door of one of the cabins opened, and a fat man I hadn’t seen at Beaumont’s ran out. My orders were to gun down anyone trying to escape, so I pointed the .45 and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the fat man in the leg, and he screamed and went down. I shot two more times. He stopped screaming.

More gunfire clattered, and the door to another cabin opened. Jesse backed out, shooting his pistol, the muzzle flashes a bright tongue flicking. The gun ran out of ammo, and Jesse tossed it aside and pulled a knife. A biker pointing a shotgun limped out of the cabin. I fired, hit him, and he dropped the shotgun as he fell.

Suddenly, I was under attack. Bullets punched through the aluminum skin of the trailer and whizzed past me. A round tore the .45 from my hand. A second bullet slammed into my thigh. The gust of pain knocked me off a cliff and set me adrift on a sea of fire.

28

28

I’VE GOT ALL MY CHIPS ON YOU.

Real Deal is lying on his bed, as barren inside as the desert outside, his and Yuma’s motto echoing in his head.

I’ve got all my chips on you.

He’s still covered in blood from last night’s shootout but doesn’t give a damn, may never wash it off. Some might be hers. As the sun sets he walks out the cabin’s back door to where his Harley is parked so it can’t be seen from the road. He digs in his saddlebags for the .22 semiauto stashed there, something to replace the gun he left behind when they fled Beaumont’s.

Bob comes out the back door of his cabin with his pistol and a cigarette.

“I heard a noise, almost blasted you,” he says.

Real Deal shows him the .22 and says, “I hope you’re right about that motherfucker looking to get even.”

“I’m right,” Bob says. “Elijah’s keeping watch up front. We’ll switch off every two hours.”

“I’ll sit out there all night,” Real Deal says. “I need something to do besides drive myself crazy.”

“It’s best we stick to the plan,” Antonia says. She steps out of her and Elijah’s cabin, where she’s been eavesdropping. “Stay inside, keep it dark, keep the bikes hidden. Anybody snooping around will have to come right to our doors.”

“That’s all hunky-dory,” Bob says. “But if any shit goes down, I’ll be doing my own thing. Don’t get in my way.”

“We’ll all be doing our own thing at that point,” Antonia says, “but until then, shut your cabin light off.”