An hour later, the skirmish was over, at least for now. We were exhausted, bloody, and down a few men, but they’d lost a hell of a lot more. After they surrendered, we allowed them to gather their dead, then escorted them out of our territory with a very clear warning to never show their faces in our area again.
I returned to the clubhouse afterward, where Burdock met me at the door.
“We’re moving in fifteen,” he said. “Grab your gear. I’ll brief you on the way.”
I didn’t even get the chance to ask about Marlowe before he turned and walked off.
One minute I was knee-deep in a biker skirmish, the next I was being shoved into a black bag operation. My head was still on Marlowe. I took a fast shower to wash the blood off, then slid into my usual black t-shirt and pants, the ones reserved
