Across the alley, there were shouts. Hunt saw a group of his deputies on the roof, chasing Relda’s attackers. His hand curled into a fist. He wanted to chase the bastards down, but his first priority was to look after Relda.
“Come on,” he said. “Time for that medbooth,”
“Really, I’m fine.” She released him and took a step back.
Then her knees gave out.
He caught her before she fell and hauled her into his arms. She was a pleasant armful of curves. “You’re not fine. Medbooth. No argument.” He didn’t wait for a reply, he simply strode over to the set of steps leading down to the ground.
Darkness had fallen, and while the main hub of the market had restaurants and food stalls that stayed open late into the night, this part of the market was quiet.
He neared the closest medbooth. The box stood a little taller than he did and flashed with neon advertisements that contrasted sharply with the low-tech feel of Souk. He set Relda on her feet and pressed a palm to the booth. Its door swung open with a hiss.
Bright, white light glowed out. A simple bench was all that sat inside. “In you go.”
Relda sighed. “It won’t work on me.”
He frowned. He’d never heard of medbooths not working on anybody. “Explain.”
“No.” She lifted her chin. “It’s my secret to keep.”
He stared at her lovely face. “Humor me. Get in the booth.”
She shrugged. “They’re your e-creds.” She stepped in, swept her skirts to the side, and sat down.
The door closed and the machine hummed quietly. Hunt crossed his arms and waited impatiently. He sent a quick message to check in with his deputies. Received a message back that the attackers were still at large and Westin was woozy but okay.
Three minutes later, the medbooth beeped, and Relda stepped out.
Her face was still red, swollen, and threatening to bruise. He brushed his fingers over the injury.
“Told you.” There was a smugness in her voice.
“So you did.” He swung her back into his arms.
“Marshal Calder?—”
“Hunt.”
“Marshal—”
“Hunt.” Stubborn woman was going to have to learn he was just as tenacious as she was.
She huffed out a breath. “Fine. Hunt. I can walk.”
“Maybe, but I like carrying you.”
That shut her up. He turned into the alley where her house was located and then stopped at the two-story, cream-colored house with windows accented by black wrought iron and boxes filled with colorful flowers. As they neared, the front door flew open.
“Relda!”
Four girls of differing ages—ten through late teens—hurried out. Concern and worry was stamped on their faces.
“I’m fine.” Relda waved them back inside.
Hunt stepped into the tiled entry.
“Yes. I see you’re doing very fine.” The oldest girl was staring at Hunt and smiling. She shifted her gaze to Relda. “Those men who attacked Alia came back, didn’t they?”
