Old Lady of the Iron Crown

er

, sending empty bourbon bottles, crushed coke baggies,

worthless whore

n at the neutral Church bar, barking orders at me like s

leather pants creaking as her acrylic na

ous venom. "She's a broken charity case with two screaming bastard runts. If she shows up, let the pro

tered, a cruel grin splitting my lips. "Nobody hangs up on the President of Raven M

m my leather holster and racked the

oked clubhouse, I raised the b

BANG

g heavy metal, instantly freezing fifty patched b

tched cut and every prospect on two wheels! We ride to Route 9! We're pu

ar is sacred neutral territory! The old-school charters forbid weapons on the f

his cut, slamming him hard a

nto his face. "The old charters can choke on my exhaust! Saddle u

ed out of the compound, tearing onto Route 9 in an arro

arms locked tight around my waist, a smug, sadisti

tement to watch Roxy stripped of her

my cell phone buzzed violently in my leather pocket wit

AT NORTH GATE. ARMORED T

ck into my pocket wit

se. Some cartel

putting my boot on Roxy Vance's neck an

, the faded neon cross of the neutral

only a single nondescript, mu

armed outlaws. Not a single

king laugh tore

thetic bitch

-tail of gravel and dust flying across the front porch

, the metallic pinging of overheating h

my chrome 1911 out in plain view, and

to heels clicking sharply against the weathered

t the center of the heavy timber do

AC

ors slammed violently against the interior drywal

room like a poisonous crack of thunder. "Get your patheti