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As I hunkered down with my back to my Harley, I glanced over at the duffel bag, just twenty feet away. A dozen motorcycles sped between it and me, cutting me off from the prize. Three and a half million dollars – so close, and yet so fucking far –
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my screen move as the text came in from Sloane. I couldn’t have been happier, until I read the one-word reply:
Naaaaah.
My eyes widened.
WHAT THE FUCK?!
Another text came through immediately after the first one:
Spa day, bitches.
I about went nuclear.
That fucking bitch – SHE’D FUCKING SET ME UP –
“Lou, what do we do?” Doc yelled from the Midnight Riders side of the line.
“GET OUT OF HERE!” I screamed, waving them off.
My guys got on their bikes and took off.
Me, I still had my eyes on that money.
Since nobody was firing at the cops, they weren’t shooting back. At first I thought it was just restraint on their part – until three squad cars roared in and surrounded the pickup with the meth in it.
At the same time, a lone patrol car skidded up right by the dead guy with the duffel bag.
The Santa Muertes were all gone now, and they sure as hell were going to avoid any patrol cars.
Dan Peters opened the driver’s door of the cruiser. While staying inside, he reached down and started to haul in the bag. It wasn’t easy, because Dan grunted and strained. If all the money was hundreds, then the bag probably weighed about 70 pounds. If there were 50’s and 20’s mixed in, it could run up to 80 or 90 pounds, easy.
It was an extraordinary risk for a police chief to take, and I wondered why the fuck he was doing it – but there was a simple explanation:
He didn’t trust anybody else to handle that money.
Fifty feet away on my left, Gunner came out of the truck cab with his hands up – and a cop promptly shot him, then took his place behind the wheel.
I finally realized that this wasn’t a drug bust.
This was a rip and run.
Mother FUCKER – they knew about the meth and the money! That’s all they were after!
But how did they know…?
They would have gotten away with it, too, except that was when we all heard the sound.
whup whup Whup Whup WHUP WHUP
Helicopters. And gettin’ closer by the second.
Dan looked up in surprise, the bag half in, half out of the car.
Spotlights went on and flashed across the field as bikers roared through them in clouds of dust.
“THIS IS THE D.E.A.,” a voice boomed out over a loudspeaker. “STOP WHERE YOU ARE AND DROP YOUR WEAPONS.”
