Hardbingers

15

Cal idled his stolen Camry on 58th, downstream from Second, and watched the street corner in his rearview mirror.

Hursey and Jolliff waited down near First in their stolen cars. They'd pull out in Cal and Miller's wake and run interference should anyone come in pursuit.

He fidgeted in his seat. Hard to sit still. Hell, he could barely breathe. Inside his gloves, his palms were slick with sweat under his death grip on the steering wheel.

This shouldn't be happening. The yeniceri were warriors—trained to fight evil. Usually that meant men. He had no illusions that males had a lock on Otherness-related activity, but executing a pregnant woman and her daughter…

He knew the Ally wasn't good, per se, but these days—especially after last month—its ends and means seemed indistinguishable from the Other-ness's. He'd begun to wonder if good existed.

Take this woman. Yeah, yeah, he'd be the first to admit that looks could deceive, but he'd seen the way she smiled, the way her eyes sparkled as she listened to her little girl reading to her. He didn't give a damn what the Ally said, this woman was not evil.

He needed a bathroom.