Page 69 of King of Omen

‘You need to trust me,’ I sighed.

Both bikers on approach were imposing, clad in leather jackets adorned with emblems revealing their allegiance to an infamous cartel.

One, the apparent leader, was a lean, muscled, bearded middle-aged man with an air of authority. He eased forward, swaggering towards us.

He was formidable, handsome in a silver fox, George Clooney way if he’d bothered with his styling.

He sported broad shoulders and a neat, light-flecked beard that veiled most of his lower face.

His jacket was covered in bold patches, displaying his rank and status in the notorious gang.

His eyes pierced with a menacing stare, set within a rugged, weathered visage scarred from years of fighting and living on the edge.

I bit my lip, gripped my gun tighter and opened my door, easing out, pointing the firearm at the man loping toward me.

Heart racing, the grip on the weapon tightened, aware that I was about to play a dangerous game of brinkmanship.

I made use of the thick steel door to block my body, aiming the firearm in the space between the car and the window.

Both men smirked, undaunted by my show of force, still motoring towards me.

‘Hey, whaddya know?’ the biker flanking the lead biker called out, sneering. ‘It’s a Sheila.’

‘Still haven’t learnt that women too can kick ass, Billy,’ I called out.

The younger biker snapped back in shock. ‘What the fuck?’

The lead man arched a surprised brow, raised a hand, and the pair’s advance stopped.

Sun glinted off the windscreen as the Harleys, still with riders astride, revved, and the kookaburras warbled in nearby trees. Yet somehow, a cloud of silence descended on the road.

‘Some once told me that in the old days, you never let your enemy get the best of you,’ I said, my voice echoing in the small valley we were stopped in. ‘That’s how you survived. The Camerons always had to be tough -’

‘- Man or woman, adult and child,’ the bearded biker finished. ‘Mia, what the fuck are you doing out here with a gun in your hand and with our mark?’

‘So this is a hit?’ I called across the divide between us.

He crossed his hands over his broad chest, lifting his chin in defiance. ‘Something like it.’

‘Back off then, Angus Cameron, because you won’t finish what you’re here to start without putting a bullet in me as well.’

I discerned the tense energy ratchet up from the two men in the SUV, Lorenzo in particular, his soft curses permeating the air.

‘I won’t do that. Not to you,’ the burly biker growled.

‘Then, in the same vein, you won’t try and kill anyone in this car.’

My words hung in the air, the quiet between us deafening. The riders exchanged glances, one even spitting on the ground in contempt.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest.

‘Let us leave without this becoming an all-out war,’ I said, lowering the Sig Sauer.

The leader’s boots scraped against the pavement as he shifted his feet, the metal buckles scratching the asphalt.

With eyes narrowed, he nodded. ‘You’ve made our job difficult, young lady.’

‘Life will do that to us,’ I replied, easing away from the car door, gun still aimed at the biker’s commander. ‘But, we’re all fighting our battles, some far greater than others.’

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