Forgotten Sea

Careful not to flash his rol , he dropped a couple of bil s on the table and walked out.

Nobody fol owed.

Outside, the sky was stained with sunset and a chemical haze, orange, purple, gray. The day’s heat lingered, radiating from the crumbling asphalt, sparking off the broken glass. He headed instinctively for the water, free as a bird thanks to the coworker boyfriend with the ponytail, trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his evening.

Or maybe his life.

Beyond the jumbled rooftops at the end of the street, he could see the flat shimmer of the sea. He passed a homeless guy huddled in a doorway, clutching a bottle, watching the street with flat, dead eyes. Something wrong there. He kept his arms loose and at his sides as the pawn shops and tattoo parlors gave way to warehouses and razed lots.

His neck crawled. Al ey ahead. Empty. Good.

He lengthened his stride, taking note of blank windows and deserted doorways. Good place to get jumped, he thought, and angled to avoid the dirty white van blocking a side street.

F o r g o t t e n s e a 19

He heard a thump. A grunt.

Not his problem, he reminded himself. None of his business.

A woman’s cry, sharp with anger and alarm.

Shit.

He circled the van, shot a quick look down the street.

And saw Lara Rho backed against the brick wal of an empty lot with a couple of rough guys circling her like dogs.

2

F o u r o f t h e m , J u s t i n c o u n t e d . Two o n L a r a , one big guy keeping the boyfriend occupied— Tie him up while they took her down, good strategy—one on the ground. Even odds, almost.

Unless they were armed, in which case things were going to get messy.

Justin didn’t know what he’d stumbled into. Robbery?

Rape? Drug deal gone wrong?

But nobody was waving a blade around. Yet. Or a gun.

He left his own knife in the sheath on his leg.

The big guy stopped dancing and bul ed under the boyfriend’s guard, catching him hard around the ribs, wrapping him in his arms. Goldilocks swal owed by the bear.

One of the thugs lunged at Lara. She grabbed his arm, using his weight against him, but the second one jumped in, grabbing her long hair, snapping back her head.

Justin surged forward, quick, control ed, two short jabs F o r g o t t e n s e a 21

to the kidneys that should have dropped him. He jerked, releasing Lara, but he didn’t go down.

Justin checked, caught by a sense, a smel , fetid and somehow familiar. Like burning garbage.

Slowly, the thug turned, eyes flat in his dead face.

Fuck.

Justin hit him, palm of the heel up the nose, crunch, blood spraying everywhere. The smel y bastard stayed on his feet, pummeled Justin’s ribs, one, two, hard. Justin blocked the third blow, slammed the side of his foot on the bastard’s instep. Their legs tangled. They fel . Pain burst in Justin’s elbow, radiating up his arm. They scrambled, fighting for position. Stinky clawed at Justin’s face, gouging for his eyes. Justin slammed both forearms down to break his hold, bucked him up and over. Grabbing hair, he rapped the guy’s skul on the ground, hard enough to stun.

The thug, blood streaming from his broken nose, looked up into his eyes and smiled.

It creeped him out. Enough he didn’t fol ow through, and paid for it when the guy curled up. Head butt. The al ey exploded in pain and stars. They rol ed again, Justin on the bottom. He heard grunts, thumps, around them. Lara?

Stinky reared over him, bloody, smiling. Justin chopped up, striking his throat with the edge of his hand, crushing the windpipe. The guy gurgled, blank eyes bulging in his bloody mask of a face.

Drop, asshole.

He dropped.

Breathing hard, Justin shoved his body aside and staggered to his knees.

His gaze swept the scene for Lara, found her by the wal , bending over her attacker’s motionless body. Safe. The air around them wavered like heat rising from a jet engine.

2 2

V i r g i n i a K a n t r a

Justin blinked. The shimmer didn’t go away. Shit. He must have hit his head harder than he thought.

He glanced over at the boyfriend, crawling out from under the big guy. Another one down. Okay. He breathed again, this time in relief, and bent down to press his fingers to the pulse under Stinky’s jaw. Stil beating.