The driver of the black SUV realized he had been spotted and slammed the transmission into reverse.
Before the tires could grip the asphalt, two heavy cruisers pulled directly behind the bumper, boxing the vehicle completely against the curb.
The club president walked across the asphalt, his heavy boots slow and deliberate. He tapped on the driver’s tinted glass with his silver signet ring, locking his cold gaze straight into the terrified driver's eyes while dialing the local police captain on his phone.
Within three minutes, local patrol units swarmed the block with sirens blazing, verifying that the driver was a wanted fugitive with active interstate warrants.
As the suspect was cuffed and pushed into the back of a police cruiser, the president walked back across the street to Miller’s Diner. He reached out his massive hand, gripping Leo’s shoulder in a firm, respectful embrace.
"You saved a lot of families today, kid," the president said, pulling out a chair at the head of the table. "Sit down. Lunch is on the club."