Engine thunder preceded the motorcycles. One, two, three, the machines curved into the lot. The first rider, a big man in a leather coat, unholstered a pistol as he jammed down his kickstand. He took a small glass vial out of his breast pocket.
“I warned him.”
“True.” The second rider took the vial, sniffed it, then sniffed the air. “Go up the back. Watch out for Flori.”
Upstairs, a young woman not much larger than a child stepped out of a door. Flori said, “Cal’s down here.” When none of the riders moved, she said to the group’s lone woman, “Leave the men to mind the hall.… Read the rest