“I need that motorbike. Now.”
I push a young guy to the side; he stares at me with his mouth open. Then I push another one, and grab the handle bar. A third guy puts his hand on my shoulder, causing me to turn around.
“What the f**k are you doing, mate? Get off my bike or I’ll smash your face.”
Encouraged by these words and their obvious numerical advantage, the other two also get brave, and they begin to curse me in unison. I powerfully grab the guy’s hand, twist it off my shoulder and turn towards the others. In an instant, I take out the 9mm, and press it against the shocked boy’s temple.
“Get back, you lot!” I yell, while lifting my leg over the bike. The three blokes back away with hands held up, and their girlfriends are screaming as one. “Sorry, boys,” I quickly say, and aiming
