She saw me. Made eye contact. Mouthed those two words: “Help me.”
One of the men noticed. “Keep walking.”
I had seconds.
“Gentlemen,” I called out. “Got a minute?”
They turned. Looked at me. Six-foot-two biker covered in road dust and leather. One of them reached behind his back. Gun, probably.
“Not interested in whatever you’re selling, old man.”Continue reading…
