Dutch jammed his rear brake and dragged his heavy combat boots against the asphalt, skidding his custom touring bike to a halt inches from the boy.
"Kid," Dutch barked, his gravelly voice cutting through the mechanical hum. "What did you see?"
Chapter II: The Danger Under the Trestle
Toby pointed down the descending curve toward the massive steel-and-concrete railway bridge spanning the gorge three hundred yards ahead.
"There are men waiting under the rail bridge!" Toby cried, gasping for air with wide, terrified eyes. "They've got black pickup trucks blocking the exit and steel spikes laid across the blind corner!"
Dutch's expression hardened into cold granite. He knew that specific railway underpass—a blind ninety-degree right curve with steep rock walls on both sides. If twenty motorcycles hit a spike strip at fifty miles an hour inside that concrete chute, nobody would walk away alive.