Fyrefall (Phoebe and the Wanderers, Book 1)

8 - Stand off

I tried to scream. I tried to wriggle, but the arms around me were like iron bars. I tried another scream, but all that came out was a muffled mmmmmph.

The hand on my mouth loosened its hold and a voice hissed in my ear, “Please stop screaming, you’re spitting all over me.”

“Aaagh…” I started, but the hand clamped tight, so I tried a kick.

My leg connected with shin bone. My assailant swore and suddenly I was free. Which gave my brain chance to catch up. Brown skin, a faint scent of woods, peppermint on his breath — I whirled around and there he was, bent double glaring up from under his dark mop of hair. “Alexander!”

He rubbed at his shin.  “What did you do that for?”

“Because you grabbed me!”

“Because you were making a noise!”

“That’s no reason to…”

“Sshh!”

“You could have said that before you grabbed me like that!”

“I was trying to stop you blowing our cover!”

“Cover? Were you in the gym five minutes ago? That fight’ll be all over the internet by now. You have to be the most useless undercover agent in history!”

I heard footsteps running along the path towards us. The bushes rustled and the man I’d followed down the road was right before me. His blue eyes flashed angrily. “Would you two get yourselves under control!”

His voice was plummy, confident — not the sort of voice you disobey. I snapped my mouth shut. Alexander did too. “Too late!” the man snapped. “Esther and Liam heard you two and took off on the bus.”

Alexander’s face fell. “Esther was with Liam?”

“Yes,” I said. “I would have told you, except you had your hand across my mouth.”

“Like. I. Said. I was trying to stop you blowing our cover!”

The blond man shook his head. I ignored him and rounded on Alexander. “How? By dragging me into the undergrowth?”

“I thought you’d recognise me,” he snapped. “Instead you had to kick me!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t smack you like I said I would!”

The man looked from me to Alexander and let out a long sigh. “What have you two been doing with each other?”

I blushed. Alexander cocked his head at me. “She’s trouble,” he said.

The man rolled his eyes. “Like someone else I know.”

Alexander scowled. “Don’t start in on me. I was just following orders. Bring Liam in, you said. Well, now we know it’s too late. Esther got to him first.”

“I’ve got to get after them,” the man said. “They caught the number twenty seven bus. Where does that go?”

Alexander shrugged. They both looked at me.

“The train station,” I told them.

The man dipped his head. “You’re a useful little thing.”

“I’m not little.”

He grinned. “Everyone looks little to me.” He was taller even than Alexander, broad and muscular. His features were sharp and refined, but he had a day’s growth of stubble and a scar at his left temple that might have made him look rough, except his clothes were designer labels and his voice dripped money. He held out his hand. I stared.