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Hahahaha! I thought as I glared at Dan from behind my Harley. See how YOU fuckers like it.
Now there were sirens, too – far away, but pouring in from the highway and headed right for the cop cars.
I could see Peters practically shitting himself as he stared up into the sky, a look of pure terror on his face.
He was only twenty feet away, and he was watching the helicopters – not me.
That was when I pulled out my gun, aimed, and shot him in the head.
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Peters dropped the bag on the ground and slumped over, hanging halfway out the door.
The cop in the passenger seat looked freaked. He tried to pull Peters in –
So I shot him, too.
He slumped over in the car on top of Peters.
There was so much dust getting kicked up by the motorcycles and helicopters that I wasn’t even sure the DEA saw any of it happen. It’s not like it was a big firefight out in the open.
I had one chance to make this happen.
I ran through the dust cloud over to the cop car, grabbed the duffel bag, and dragged it over to my bike.
It was heavy, but not too heavy. Peters had just been too much of a pussy to haul it into the car, that’s all.
I dumped the bag on the back of my Harley, started the engine, and took off in the opposite direction that everybody else was going. They were all heading toward the highway –straight for the DEA’s cars. My plan was to make it to the gasworks and then hopefully slip off in the darkness on the other side. Let the helicopters keep on trying to catch the hundred bikers roaring around.
I was thirty feet from the gasworks when I saw the muzzle flash on top of one of the rusted towers.
I might have heard the crack! of the gunshot, too – can’t be sure, because my front tire blew out.
Everything went crazy. I almost flipped head over ass onto the ground, but I managed instead to lay the bike down into a hellacious slide. I stepped off it at the last second so I didn’t get my leg ground into hamburger meat, but it banged me up pretty good as I tumbled across the desert floor.
As I lay there, my bike fifteen feet away at the end of a gouged-out trough, my mind was scrambling.
Who the fuck was THAT?!
Does the DEA have snipers up on the gasworks?!
And then I thought back to the last time a sniper had given me hell – the other day at the barn, when somebody up in the hills had taken out Chuck and Wild Bill.
Is Jack Pollari up in the gasworks?! MOTHERFUCKER –
That was when the money started blowing past me.
I sat up in a panic as I saw bills ripping through the air, carried on the wind from the helicopters’ blades.
Shit – NO!
All those dollar bills –
I paused.
DOLLAR bills?!
I smacked my hand down on the nearest one that flitted past.
