he who hesitates is toast

The Colt in her hands barks as the first of the motorcycles comes humming over the road. The driver ducks as the bullet sparks off the body of the machine and reaches for his own sidearm as the second bike rockets toward them.

Sharon breathes out and focuses, squeezing off another two shots, one of which finds purchase in the rider's shoulder, sending him swerving toward the trees at the side of the road. Inside the car, Lavinge and his driver make muffled noises of panic, squirming at each shot.

"Oh, shut up," Sharon mutters, taking aim at the second rider. "Don't distract me."