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Boots on gravel. The sound of a gun being cocked. His hand rising as he points it in my direction. I duck and manage to crawl into the passenger seat foot well as bullets begin to fly through the windows. Glass falls over me in shards.

I push the passenger door open, practically falling out of the car while I wait for the Stallions to come closer.

I jump to my feet, immediately firing two shots at one and taking him down. He lands with a pained grunt.

“FREEZE!” I shout at the other one, standing near the back of my car.

He won’t get a shot off without me blowing his head off first and he knows it. I can see it in his eyes.

“Shit,” he mutters, then slowly puts his pistol on the ground before getting into position on his knees, fingers laced behind his head.

“That’s right. Nice and easy.”

I cuffhim and shove him toward the driver’s side of my car, attaching the bracelets to the steering wheel. He is quiet and subdued. His buddy is dead, eyes wide and glassy, staring at the sky as his blood seeps into the grass and the ground beneath him.

Twenty minutes later, Mitch and Tyler pull up. They rush over to me, relief on their faces when they realize I only have a few scrapes and bruises.

“You can still put up one hell of a fight, Sheriff, I’ll give you that,” Mitch says with genuine admiration. “Quite the pile of bodies you left behind.”

“My phone hasn’t worked since the crash. We need forensics and the ME to come down here,” I tell them.

“On it,” Mitch replies, calling for help through his walkie while Tyler gives me a quick once-over.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod. “I’ll be sore in the morning, but yes. Our deputies are in the wind.”

“I wonder what kind of excuse they’ll come up with,” he says.

“I don’t care what they have to say. They were clearly paid off. Whether they were paid off recently, starting with Billy Jade or even before that, we won’t know until they’re in custody,” I reply, fury gnawing at my insides like a rabid rat. “Those mother?—”

“Hey, we’re still here, still loyal, always,” Tyler calmly reminds me.

It doesn’t make the anger go away, but it does give me something positive to focus on.

“Well, at least we’ve got one suspect in custody. Attempted murder of a police officer should keep him nice and cozy with us for a while,” I say, pointing at the mongrel cuffed to my wheel.

“Has he said anything?”

“He invoked his right to counsel and the fifth amendment.”

Tyler scoffs. “Of course he did. And the truck?”

“I lost it. The riders kept me busy trying to kill me.”

“Sucks, but it tells us something.”

“Yeah, the Silver Stallions have gotten more brazen.”

Tyler’s phone rings. I give him a curious look. “Who is it?”

“Patterson,” he replies and answers the call, tapping the speaker icon on his screen. “You’re on speaker. Mitch and Lucas are also present.”

“We’ve got a problem,” her sharp voice comes through.

Mitch gets off his walkie and joins us. The captured Stallion listens quietly, his gaze occasionally darting across our faces.

“What is it?” I ask.