Betrayal: Book 3 of the Guardians Saga

Ch. 2.1 RenFests and Dragons

Jason stood at the back of the seating. She also caught glimpses of him wherever they went throughout the RenFest.

At length, Rile tired of wearing the helmet and wanted to go home. They both saw Jason tailing them in the parking lot. Alex motioned Rile to her subcompact and walked back to Jason.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" Jason asked.

"I'm sure."

"Because you come in bruised an awful lot. It's not from that guy or his brother, is it? 'Cause you can leave with me now and we'll call the cops."

When Alex shook her head, sweat beaded Jason's brow and his gaze darted around nervously.  "That's not what you like, is it?" he asked.

Alex stopped her hand halfway to slapping him. "No, it is not what I like. I come in bruised a lot because I spar a lot."

I hate sharing even a teensy bit with anyone, but I want those Krav Maga lessons, and Jason is only concerned about me.

"Someone did hurt me once and I want to make sure that he never does again. It wasn't that guy or his older brother. They helped chase him off. I take a lot of lessons and spar a lot. I'll hold you to those five free Krav Maga classes. I want to chase him off by myself next time."

Not that the headless Morgan will bother me. Still, there's Hermann and whoever created me.

"Make it ten. I want you to become so good that you only give bruises, not get them."

That's so sweet, I almost wish I don't hate all men. Almost.

"Here's your chain mail shirt." Alex struggled out of it. "Thanks for the loan. I prefer heat to utter embarrassment. I'll return Lenica's outfit at our first Krav Maga lesson. Same time and place as sword lessons?"

Jason nodded and Alex walked back to the car alone, although she could feel Jason's gaze on her.

***

She and Rile drove in silence. At the next light, a small street rod, speakers booming and car frame vibrating, pulled up next to them.

I hated having someone else's music forced down my throat.

Alex gripped the steering wheel in anger. The driver caught her eye and turned up the music, sneer on his face.

"Rile, hand me my special," Alex said.

He reached in the backseat and pulled out the bulbous, plastic monstrosity that was a screaming orange and green. Alex had bought it because it was blatantly a water gun.

She pointed it through the other car's open window at the stereo and fired her own blast through it. The rod's speakers blew up and the driver screamed obscenities at her.

"Keep it down, white boy poser," Alex said, before she jammed her subcompact into gear and took off, tiny engine pistons protesting. "Let the games begin," she told Rile.

"I saw all The Fast and the Furious movies. Your car doesn't have a prayer against that street rod."

"It doesn't need one. Let's hope he doesn't have a gun. Keep an eye out and sing if he does. I have a plan."

Alex whipped around a corner, took the car out of gear, and braked. The street rod roared up on them, catching the cop's attention.

Alex remembered everywhere she had ever seen a cop, especially those in speed traps. She didn't ask how or why, but this was the first time it had been useful to her.