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A vision faded into view. It appeared before me with an almost uncanny quality that provided stark, unquestionable detail.
He was dark-haired, too,I thought to myself. And he had a beard. A full beard with a goatee.
I didn’t have many gifts, that was for sure. But my memory was damn near photographic. And apparently that was rare.
He was handsome, also,I thought pleasantly.Damn-near gorgeous.
For a moment I fixated on the man’s face, all full-lipped and angular with a strong, masculine jaw. His eyes had been a beautiful light brown. The color of powdered cocoa. Even in the darkness of the alley I could see them flashing in my mind.
And he was dangerous. Borderline deadly.
Again and again I replayed the fight, which I’d witnessed only groggily from my knees. Each time I picked up more detail. Each time I hit the rewind button of my mind’s eye, I saw more and more of the events as they unfolded.
He had extensive training. Military, maybe. Or even—
My eyes flew abruptly open. An image of his shirt appeared, white lettering on black, and the words scrawled across it. I’d only seen it for a split-second, when he took his jacket off. But a split-second was all I needed.
Elite Mixed-Martial Arts
The bus took a gentle bounce as the driver turned onto the next block. I whipped out my phone, punched in the name, and came up with hundreds of hits.
Shit.
I needed more. And the only way to get it was to close my eyes again.
Over and over I replayed last night’s events in my mind. I could hear the deep, gruff voice that had stopped my beating. I could see the measured, confident way he carried himself into the alley. His strikes were short, quick, devastating. He’d taken out three men in the span of twenty seconds. He’d broken bones and collapsed windpipes…
His arm.
In reaching for me, his forearm had extended beyond the sleeve of his leather jacket. And on the inside of that forearm…
A tattoo!
It took a little longer for the image to coalesce on the canvas of my mind. My concentration was broken first by the hiss of more air-brakes, then by a wet, unhealthy-sounding cough from one of the people seated behind me. Ireallyneeded my own car again!
A dagger.
The dagger was more of a combat knife. The blade was long.
A dagger with crossed arrows.
Suddenly I could see the whole thing, including the banner beneath the dagger. Three words danced briefly, as the muscles of my savior’s forearm flexed beneath his tattooed skin. I couldn’t make them out, though. No matter how hard I tried.
The bus lurched again as I made my way up the center aisle. I grabbed both bars at the front, as I leaned in to the driver.
“That really big gym, in the center of town,” I said, calling an image of the place to mind. “They do MMA stuff there?”
The bus driver nodded his capped head. “Boxing too.” He glanced back at me curiously. “Why, you looking to beat someone up?”
“Maybe,” I shot back.
“Well it’s not on the route,” the bus driver went on. “But I could drop you at Harrison. Give you a transfer.”
Pausing for a second, I shook my head.
“Just get me as close as you can,” I told him. “I’ll do the rest.”
Four
