“Nah. You?”
“Nope.”
A trucker walks out of the doors with a Peterbilt hat on his head and pauses, whistling.
“Nice bikes.”
“Thanks,” I reply.
“That a Road King?”
“Nah. It’s a Super Glide.” I give him a smile, thinking he might be just the thing we need to even the odds. “Got it in a poker bet,” I lie.
“No shit? Cool.”
“Yep. What are you hauling?” I ask.
“Got a load of onions. It’s good money, but they make my eyes water.”
Bandit and I chuckle at his joke.
The three DKs approach, and the first one spits on my bike.
I lunge for him, and all hell breaks loose. We get a little help from the trucker, and before long the station owner comes out with a shotgun and orders us off the property.
The trucker points at the Devil Kings. “They fucking started it.”
The owner swings the double barrel at their leader. “Well, I’m ending it.”
Bandit and I get to our feet and watch the three pull out, heading toward El Paso.
I spit a mouthful of blood and shake out my right hand, the knuckles split and bleeding. Bandit and I exchange a look.
“They go for backup, we’re screwed,” he murmurs.
Nodding, I turn and shake the trucker’s hand. “Thanks, man. Owe you one.”
“No problem. They were fucking assholes. I should run ‘em down with my Betsy.” He gestures to a huge Peterbilt tractor trailer, and I pat his shoulder.
“I’d steer clear of them. You don’t want that kind of trouble.”
“Guess not.” He shakes his own hand out and rubs his jaw, then grins. “Sure was fun, though.”
I chuckle and climb on my bike.
Bandit and I roar off the lot and onto the highway headed north to Las Cruces.
I keep a worried eye on my side mirror, but don’t see anyone, and after about twenty minutes, I relax.
When we hit the Las Cruces city limits, I make the turn and head toward the Saints Garage.
The glass doors are rolled up, and Rio is there to meet us when we pull into a bay. Someone rolls the doors down, giving us privacy. I’m stiff from the ride when I drop my kickstand and straighten.
Flipping up the seat, I pass him the bag of money.
His eyes hit my bloody knuckles and the cut above my eye. I’m sure my face is a battered mess.
“What happened?” he growls.
