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“If you’re not a criminal,” the woman shouted, vindicated, “how do you know what a taser feels like?”
“You’re not helping your case,” I hissed at Josie, wary of us getting pinned against a stone wall.
“Easy.” She leaned over my shoulder. “My first girlfriend shot me with hers?—”
“See?” The woman wasted no time pulling the trigger. “She’s a thug.”
The thug in question hit her knees, jittering as electricity flowed through her, then fell over sideways.
Fury spread ice down my arms into my hands, chilling my fingers until they were as cold as the grave.
Spirits moaned as my temper roused the dead beneath our feet, those lost souls begging me to let them rest in peace. An unearthly chill began frosting the glasses of the teenage boys standing across from me.
Dial it down, Frankie. Keep your cool. Don’t make the situation worse.
“Are you crazy?” I stepped over Josie. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“She attacked that woman,” a man yelled from the back of the crowd. “She has a knife.”
Yep.
Definitely magic run amok.
There was no other excuse for the randomness of their baseless accusations.
“That’s not—” I craned my neck to see the big mouth. “You can’t even see her from back there.”
“Don’t let…her get…” Josie wheezed, curling around her middle. “Away.”
Too late.
The repo was gone.
About to yank Josie to her feet and pursue, I snarled when thick fingers clamped over my upper arms.
“Hands off her if you want to keep them,” a low voice growled from behind me.
A shiver dappled my arms, but I couldn’t identify the speaker among the jostling looky-loos.
“Her friend tried to kidnap that woman’s kids right off the street. She has a gunanda knife.” The man tightened his fingers until they bit into my skin. “A brave citizen stopped her with a taser, but this one tried to run.”
“Ha.”I struggled in his grasp. “Like I would leave my sister at the mercy of you psychos.”
“She quit twitching,” the brave citizen noted, her thumb on the trigger. “Should I zap her again?”
“Hands,” the low voice warned a second time. “Off.”
The person restraining me vanished with a grunt, leaving a cold spot where he had been.
“Well, shit.” Josie blinked up and up at a fixed point beyond my shoulder. “It’s you.”
Pivoting on my heel, I almost swallowed my tongue when I recognized my savior.
And noticed his Savannah Police Department uniform.
“It’s me,” Samuel Harrow agreed, challenging me to a staring contest I was determined not to lose.
Had his eyes always been that shade? Faded denim? Like my favorite pair of jeans?
