Page 101 of Claimed By the Deputies

Bullets fly as I drive our large SUV straight through a Silver Stallion blockade.

They empty their guns, the SUV taking most of the hits while I deliver carnage, without mercy or hesitation, as Lucas and Mitch hang on for their lives.

“NOW!” I shout as I tear through several Harleys blocking the road.

We knew this was coming. We knew they’d be waiting for us upon our return to Frost Valley.

So we came prepared.

As the surviving Stallions scramble to get on their bikes and come after us, Mitch and Lucas poke their heads out through the SUV’s windows.

“Fire!” Mitch shouts, then starts popping Stallions with his semi-automatic pistol.

My job is to drive us back into town. Their job is to take down anybody who gets in our way. And today we’re on the naughty list of several criminals throughout Frost Valley.

“Three left!” Mitch yells as he reaches for another magazine. “Fucking hell.”

“We trained for this,” I remind them. “We’ve fought through worse.”

“Yeah, on foreign soil, not in our backyard,” Mitch replies. “Firing at insurgents, not our own citizens.”

Lucas fires another deadly shot. “Two left.”

Two left indeed. As I glance in the rearview mirror, I see a Stallion fall off his bike. The Harley tumbles over and over until it becomes a mangled, smoking mess leaking gas and oil on the pavement.

The other two Stallions continue on, trying hard to catch up.

We drive past the sign that says Welcome to Frost Valley. The sign used to bring me comfort, but I find no relief here.

“The minute they turned their weapons on us they became insurgents. They’re no better than the kind of people we fought in the war.”

“Reloading,” Mitch says and puts a new magazine into his gun.

“Covering,” Lucas replies and fires a few shots at the incoming motorcycles. One of the bullets pierces a front wheel, taking another Stallion down.

Mitch whoops. “One left.”

He aims and fires.

POP.

Two more rounds. POP-POP.

“Looks like we’re clear,” I say, taking my first deep breath. “For now.”

“They’re not playing around,”Lucas says as I drive up the country road leading to our cabin. “It’s an all-out war on law enforcement.”

“Not all law enforcement, though. Just the ones they couldn’t pay off,” Mitch replies bitterly, shaking his head in dismay.

“Well, if Porter, Shaw, Rowan or any of those treacherous fuckers survive, I will personally make their lives a living hell,” I respond.

It’s not even anger speaking through me. It’s cold-blooded sincerity. This kind of betrayal isn’t just insidious, it’s downright unforgivable. They shattered the thin blue line. They swore to protect and serve, and then they let a small army of drug dealers come after their brothers in blue.

Un-fucking-believable.

“It looks quiet,” Mitch says, glancing up the road.

Too quiet.

---