Never Love a Bandido

Big Jim’s motorcycle gang was the toughest in Texas, but that wasn’t stopping someone from picking them off one by one. Big Jim’s woman begged him to leave the gang. She said he was bound to get hurt. She was right. 

Big Jim sits astride his Harley, waiting for a red light to change. It’s long after midnight and there’s not a car in sight, but Jim doesn’t think about running the light. A cop car could be sitting in the darkness around the corner, its cruising lights turned off. And now is no time for a Bandido to be getting into even minor trouble in Fort Worth. Ever since that fight at Trader’s Village and the arrests that followed, the cops have been chasing down Bandidos on any charge at all, even for minor traffic in­fractions. Now not only the cops, but someone else—nobody knows who—has joined the game. At midnight three weeks ago, chapter president Johnny Ray Lightsey was blasted with a .38, and he fell dead in the street. Jim blinks a little, remembering that Johnny Ray was gunned

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