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the four men moved toward the warehouse in the dark. She wasn’t sure, but he almost seemed happy that she was staying behind, and not in the snide way that she’d expected. Was it possible that he didn’t really want to see her harmed?
    She took a seat on Jesse’s bike and wrapped the excess leather of Bear’s jacket tight around her body like a cocoon to keep out the cold. As big as it was, it still didn’t cover her bare legs, and the wind stung her face like tiny shards of glass embedding into her flesh. She slid off the seat and huddled on the other side of the bike, letting it shelter her from the gusts blowing in from beyond the warehouse.
    A crash broke the silence. Then yelling. The Marauders had broken down the door.
    Layla pulled the collar of the jacket over her head like a hood. Hopefully that meant it would all be over soon.
    Her muscles clenched as she heard the sound she hadn’t been expecting to hear: the thunder of a gunshot reverberating through the steel chamber of the Los Muertos warehouse.
    She spun, peeking up over the Harley, but she couldn’t see what was happening inside. Worse yet, she couldn’t hear anything, either.
    Her guts twisted into a tight knot. Jesse…
    She crouched back behind the bike as the front door to the warehouse opened. A moment later, Camel emerged, waving his pistol in the air to grab her attention.
    Layla sighed and slumped against the leather and chrome. Thank Christ.
    She crossed the dry expanse of desert toward the warehouse, breaking into a run as she got nearer to the door. The momentary exertion warmed her up, but wreaked havoc on her throat. By the time she stepped inside, she was certain that she was already getting a cold.
    The two Los Muertos club members were sitting back-to-back on the floor, their hands behind their heads as Gordo spoke to them in Spanish. Gunner was confiscating their weapons while Jesse looked around, a bright orange can of gasoline dangling from his left hand. In his right, he held the pistol that Layla hadn’t even noticed before.
    How long had he been carrying it? Since the fight with Gunner? Before, when he’d met her at her house?
    “Easy peasy,” Camel said from behind her, and she jumped when she heard his voice. “No worries, beauty queen. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”
    “What’re you gonna do with them?” she asked, nodding to the Hispanic men glaring at her from the floor.
    “Strip ‘em and send ‘em home to their mommies,” Camel answered with a smile. “We ain’t interested in killin’ nobody—just sendin’ a message.”
    “Then what was the gunshot for?”
    “A warning,” Camel said, glaring at Gunner. He didn’t return his brethren’s stare. “Somebody got a lil’ trigger happy, but it all worked out.”
    “I guess so,” Layla breathed. “What happens after they tell the others? Will Los Muertos retaliate?”
    “Probably,” Gunner said from across the room. “I wouldn’t let ‘em live. It’s askin’ for trouble.” He shot a sideways glance at Jesse. “But of course, it ain’t up to me.”
    If Jesse heard him, he showed no signs of it. He was too busy dumping gasoline on the wooden grates stacked throughout the room.
    “What if Gunner’s right?” she asked Camel quietly. “What if they come after you? I mean, the Marauders only have the six members. Los Muertos are probably a lot bigger than that, right?”
    “It won’t come to that,” Camel assured her. “This ain’t the big leagues. Oasis is a small place. There’s a lotta things you can get away with here, but murder ain’t one of ‘em.”
    “It ain’t murder if nobody finds out,” Gunner muttered under his breath.
    “Hey, Jesse,” Gordo called out. “There’s a lotta weed here, man. You wanna burn that, too?”
    “Not all of it,” he answered. “We did good tonight. I think we can take a few souvenirs on our way out.”
    “Thank God the night won’t be a total waste,” Gunner piped up again as he stowed one of