An hour later, they stood alongside their bikes parked on the street as they geared up to ride. Labrys was droning on about some politician caught fooling around on his wife.
The low rumble of Harleys shook the air. Shea immediately recognized the two bikers wearing Confederate Thunder cuts cruising toward them. Mackey and One-Shot. For an instant, she and Mackey locked eyes.
“Get down!”
“What’d you say?” Labrys asked.
Mackey raised a pistol and let loose several shots. Shea drew hers, but held her fire to avoid hitting passing cars. In an instant, Mackey and One-Shot had vanished into traffic.
Shea turned to Labrys. “You okay?”
Labrys lay on her back with a bullet hole in the front of her helmet, just above the open visor. Her eyes were wide, unfocused and dilated, her face pale and
