This was, of course, far easier said than done.
But that was why I was in DOM. Anything easier was not for the regular guy.
The sun had gotten a few degrees above the horizon, starting to provide its usual heat, when the giant red truck finally came into view in the distant, rural lands of Mexico. There were only a couple of cars nearby it, and to the untrained eye, it might have just looked like a truck driving down the highway.
But I knew better.
The problem was also I didn’t know what else was on the other side of that truck. I could see the two cars behind it, sure, but if there were a dozen more in front of it that could turn on me in a heartbeat, well, let’s just say there was a massive difference between putting myself in the line of fire and lining up for a suicide mission. I wasn’t quite ready for the latter yet.
Ironically, there was an easier way to find out, and it involved doing something that would possibly be stupid.
I would speed past the truck.
Yes, it would make it look like I was aggressively approaching. But it was ironically far less suspicious for someone on a motorcycle to look impatient at a truck’s speed and pull forward than it would be for me to creep up and study the truck. I need to get ahead of the convoy.
I looked in my mirror. There was one Jeep in the far distance, but I didn’t think anything of it. I couldn’t see anything to raise my suspicions.
I looked forward and gunned the bike, going well over eighty miles per hour.
As anticipated, the cars behind the truck didn’t try and swing behind me. I was sure they had an eye on me, but as long as I looked the part, they wouldn’t do shit. I got to the front, and…
There was nothing.
I had a clear shot at the truck if I wanted.
Well, clear-ish. I was still within the line of fire of one of the cars, which had switched over to the other side of the truck, as if under the guise of passing.
I would have to keep speeding ahead for the moment.
And so I did, gunning it until I was out of view of all vehicles—and then again for another couple of minutes. I pulled myself off to the side of the road. I could handle two guard vehicles and a truck. This shit would get dangerous, but that was no big deal.
I laid low by the side of the road until the truck showed up. The instant it and the other two vehicles drove by, I hopped on my bike, revved it to life, and sped ahead, withdrawing my submachine gun as I prepared to take out the enemies. But just as I did, I realized one huge fucking problem.
That one Jeep behind me?
It now had about four others. The fucking cartel. They must have called in reinforcements.
I had to act quick. I either had to try and take the truck before they all showed up, or I had to retreat.
“Fucking bullshit,” I muttered.
There was no way I could handle about five Jeeps’ worth of cartel henchmen. That was a good fucking way to guarantee my death. I was a DOM, but I wasn’t God.
I pulled off to the side of the road. I’d have to wait until Scott and Liam got in. I pulled over to the other side of the highway and made haste back to the bunker.
I probably shouldn’t have been surprised in the fucking slightest, though, when three of the cartel Jeeps also broke off and gave chase.
I looked back and held my machine gun hidden from view but ready to fire at a moment’s notice. I was trying to think of any fucking scenario where this wasn’t sketch as hell, but surprise, surprise, none came.
And sure enough, when the first few bullets whizzed by my body, just barely missing, I knew that it was time for fucking war.
I turned around and fired at the first truck. A lucky shot killed the driver and sent the van careening into a nearby ditch. Too bad that left two others still hot on my ass. I tried firing on it, but my aim wasn’t so good as to be able to hit a Jeep driver from several dozen feet away while also riding a motorcycle.
I had to take a risk. I slowed down.
They gained ground, but I gained closed ground. A hard thud landed in my back, near my goddamn kidney, and I thanked fuck that DOM had some of the best fucking body armor around. I lined up a shot and killed the driver, then killed another person inside before he could take a hold. I had to swerve out of the way to avoid the suddenly speeding and out-of-control Jeep, but that too wound up in a ditch.
That left just one. And it knew my game. With no more Jeeps to worry about, he could swerve and escape to his delight as he pleased. I couldn’t aim for the driver anymore.
But that didn’t mean it was its only fucking weak point.
When I ensured that I had a window, I slammed on the brakes of my bike. The force nearly jolted me off the damn thing, but I kept a tight enough grip on the handlebars I didn’t go anywhere. The Jeep roared ahead and also tried to slam on the brakes. But that played right into my game.
I laid into its tires and
