Just out the door, bear paws slapped once at his dialing comm unit and twice at his head. Marshal stumbled to pink brick and dropped his bag. Seeing stars and his ear on fire, he refocused his eyes.
A wide silhouette cut a shadow against the alley's backdrop. At the brute's side, a familiar figure bent hands to knees, breathing heavy. Even still, Cassie pumped a fist and elbowed her companion. At the open door, Mindy clutched her hands to her chest, gaze shifting between Marshal, Cassie and her shop's stock room.
Cursing under his breath, he waved Mindy away. "It's alright. I'll be fine."
"But—"
"If I die back here, you know who to call. Isn't that right, Cassie?"
"Fuck yeah!" The girl flashed a bright smile and wiggled her bag at the storekeeper. As the door slammed, she called, "Keep me posted!"
"Cheap shot," Marshal said, eyes set on his comm-unit. Cassie picked it up and handed it to her man. He wasn't a Justice regular—either a newbie or a flavor of the week. He pitched it against the wall, shattering it to shards and circuit board. That one had been top-of-the-goddamn-line. Marshal ground a toe into the turf.
"Easy there, runt," Cassie said—look who's talking. Smug enough to saunter, she paced, rocking her hips. "Didn't mean to rough you up, but we couldn't have you calling your big guns."
Big guns. Hers was as much fat as muscle, and Raphael had broader shoulders. Marshal trained with the best, and this guy hadn't taken a stance. Bending for his bag, he set his heel.
From the side of his eye, he caught two more shadows jogging to the alley's rear. He snapped upright. Rocko and George, real Justice. The hell were they doing here? Marshal didn't know what he walked in on, but at this point he just hoped he'd be able to walk out of it.
"Stay put, if yanno what's good for ya." the tank said.
"Don't talk, Barney. Just. Don't." Cassie glared. "Anyway, Marshal, I need to know what you know." She rested a hand on her brute's bicep. "You better not say 'nothing.'"
"Suzi Colbert's missing, I was calling Trent and Sacha about it. They're expecting me." A lie of omission? He was a pro at it. She glanced at his pink sack, eyebrow raised.
Rocko halted a step from his back. "The fuck are you doing, Cassie? We got the inside line, let the Knights jerk themselves in circles."
"No way. This one's ours—even a hint is too much to give them, isn't it, Marshal?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about, if that's what you're asking." George joined Rocko, fists clenched. Okay, time to slow it down. "We don't have a solid physical description yet. I bet we're a good two hours behind."
"Liar," Cassie said. "It's all over the fucking network. Redhead Academy student. We share an art class."
Marshal bit his lip to keep his jaw from dropping. Ellen and Brenda were missing a pale brunette that matched the child he saved. Mindy was missing a blond black girl tied to a wealthy merchant. The Justice were after a redhead Academy student, thus an adult, eighteen-years or older. Who in God's name was Suzi Colbert? Without his comm-unit he couldn't even confirm if there was more than one, let alone if all three were missing. At this rate, there'd be a dozen by midnight.
Stuttering over the puzzle—telling the truth—would be his last resort, worth holding back. He nodded to the back door. "That's not what we heard."
"Mindy wouldn't know her ass from a hole in the hull. We're covering the bases, right, Rocko?"
"If you'd bought more shit, she'd have told you more." The big man slapped a hand on Marshal's shoulder. "Listen, kid. Today ain't the day for some beef between us, so why don't you forget you saw us and keep your nose out of it. We got this one covered. It's all about saving the girl, right?"
For the Knights, yes, but for the Justice it was all about which gang got street-props for being hero-of-the-day. Even as Rocko talked noble, his grip squeezed hard on Marshal's thin shoulder.
He cleared his throat. "Yeah, Rocko, you're probably right. We'd just get in your way."
"Good enough for you, Cassie? We need to get moving." The brawler brothers turned back up the alley.
"Fine." The girl curled her lip. "I'm still calling Cynthia about it. See you boys at the rendezvous."
Rocko waved with the back of his hand, shaking his head while whispering to George. Ever since Cassie joined their gang they'd been more baby-sitters than Cynthia's vanguard. There had been a noticeable dip in the Justice's productivity, but the girl seemed to be holding her own in social networking—something the thugs had lacked beforehand. The Justice were one high-profile catch away from sharing the Knights' spotlight, and everyone knew it.
Marshal still felt uneasy, but their only options had been to release him or send him to the hospital. The latter would have started a war. He could hear his leaders' lectures already—he should have stayed inside, but he respected Mindy too much to risk any trouble in her store. If there was something he wasn't supposed to know—he wished he knew what it was.
Cassie and Barney walked up the alley, the girl pausing constantly with her comm-unit pressed to her ear. Her man shadowed every random shift with the grace of a three-hundred-pound ballerina. If protecting the thoughtless girl was this dimwit's audition, he had his work cut out for him. Half a minute later, Cassie shot Marshal a middle finger and exited to street side.
He exhaled, suddenly feeling very tired. Groceries in hand, he shuffled to the brothers' end of the alley, hoping they'd all be gone by the time he hit open street, also hoping ASA had quit their blanket patrol. Time to call a cab.
Oh, that's right—a long run home unless he wanted to bother Mindy again.
Squinting under the wash of the district's ambient 'sun,' Marshal didn't pay a second glance to the mini-van rounding the five-corners. Instead of whirring past, it slowed. Marshal caught a bright blue sparkle from the driver's-side window--too late. The darts pierced his shoulder.
Amidst convulsions and blinding pain, Marshal felt himself falling and heard the clank of a sliding door. Darkness washed over him.
***
He blinked away the haze. The throb of his brain competed with the ache of his arm, which twitched from neck to fingertips. Lying on his side, he bent an elbow to feel a pull on his wrists. A sharp bite—they were bound together behind his back.
The van's interior was flat, seats folded under the floor. Beer cans and drug paraphernalia lined the rear. The windows appeared tinted beige, no, that was tar. Barney rested his back behind the driver's seat, focused on Marshal with a dumb, cow-eyed stare. Cassie drummed on the steering wheel, singing Spanish Karaoke over hip-hop beats. Marshal's groceries joined the girl's behind the passenger seat.
How considerate.
Parched, Marshal croaked, "This was a bad idea."
"Shut it, punk." Barney lifted the stunner. The sleek device hummed, another pair of darts ready to fire. Another shot probably would send Marshal to the hospital, if not worse. What they hell were they thinking? Did Cynthia approve this?
"Good morning," Cassie crooned during the song's bridge. "Sit yourself up and Barney'll give you a drink. Might help your throat." Marshal coughed back a snarl. As long as he stayed compliant, he'd live to see tubby and twiggy get theirs. He struggled to his rear, more propped up by the van's wall than sitting. The plastic string-cuffs were way too tight.
Barney lowered the stunner and raised a water bottle. A squirt arced, splashing Marshal in the eyes until he angled to catch some in his mouth. He clenched his fists and choked down a swallow. The water was warm, stale.
"I'm impressed, Marshal. You're tougher than you look. Most people piss themselves. Can't say my car doesn't thank you for it."
"What time is it?"
"Quarter after four." Cassie cranked up the music, off-key on the climax. He'd been gone 'shopping' for almost two hours. Sacha would be calling Mindy's soon to see what was taking so long.
His friends would find him.
Ever since the Justice formed as a rival vigilante gang, there'd been competition and confrontation between them and the Knights. But nothing like this. Marshal just hoped it wouldn't escalate.
As much as he felt furious at Cassie and Barney, he felt more angry with himself. A two mile round trip for some goddamn onions had become an unmitigated disaster. He couldn't even be trusted to walk down the street alone without everyone asking where his friends were. This proved why. A defenseless little cub in the big bad world, every bit as vulnerable as that girl in the alley. He'd been too late to protect her—she had to suffer until rescued.
Same as him. He should have been stronger, or at least smarter.
Marshal would cry for the rage and frustration, but he wouldn't let his whale-like guard or bitchy rival see it. He gritted his teeth as he worked his fingers for circulation. He didn't want to be saved--Marshal wanted to save himself.