Sarah screamed and ducked under the desk. The sound of glass breaking was followed immediately by the whoosh of an accelerant and the roar of flames. "Fire! " Rat screamed from the main room. Sarah grabbed the flash drive and the index card, shoving them into her bra.
She crawled out of the office. The front of the bar was engulfed in flames. A Molotov cocktail had been thrown through the window. "Out the back! " Rat yelled, grabbing her arm.
They stumbled into the kitchen, coughing as the thick black smoke filled the air. They burst out the back door into the gravel lot. The heat was intense. Sarah looked around, gasping for air. Standing by the chain-link fence were two sedans, the same sedans that had parked outside her apartment.
Three men stood there. The leader, the suit from the first night, was smiling. He held a baseball bat in one hand. "Told you we'd be back," he called out. Rat, bless his heart, tried to be a hero.
He stepped in front of "Sarah. " "You stepped in the wrong yard, pal. " The suit didn't even blink. He raised a pistol and fired. Rat dropped, clutching his leg, screaming.
Sarah froze. The gunshot echoed across the empty lot. Now, the suit said, walking toward her. Where is Gary? Or better yet, where is the drive?
Sarah backed up until she hit the brick wall of the burning bar. The heat was searing her back. She was trapped. "I don't have it," she lied, her voice trembling. "We know he sent it," the suit said, closing the distance.
"We tracked the postage. " "Hand it over, and maybe we don't burn you along with the bar. " He raised the gun to her forehead. The metal was cold against her skin. "Last chance, "Sarah.
" Sarah closed her eyes. She thought of Emily. She thought of the unfairness of it all. To die for a husband who had already left her. Then a low rumble started.
It wasn't the fire. It was deeper. A vibration in the ground. The suit frowned and looked towards the road. The rumble grew to a roar.
A thunderous mechanical avalanche. Around the corner, flying in formation, came 12 Harley-Davidsons. Frank was in the lead with Mercerer and Big Mike flanking him. They were returning from a run. They saw the smoke.
They saw the sedans. They saw the man with the gun pointed at their bartender. The bikes didn't slow down. They sped up. The suit's eyes went wide.