Prologue
Red-faced sneers painted their faces. Their fists bunched and lifted high. As a whole, the crowd compressed to encircle the Washington News-Herald team.
Auralia had been in similar situations before, and time was of the essence.
“Go.” Auralia grabbed at Doli’s sleeve to spin her around toward the unmanned security stand.
“Go. Go. Go.” Auralia put her right fist onto her left shoulder and ducked her chin, as Remi taught her.
This technique should help keep her visual field clear while protecting her face from most strikes.
As a bonus, it gave her a sharp point to plow through the outrage.
Auralia had expected the yelling and curses, and maybe some spitting and shoving, but what she hadn’t expected was what happened next.
Someone grabbed at Doli’s camera.
Auralia heard Remi’s good counsel in her head, dropped her pack off her shoulders, and pulled it around to wear it on her front so that people couldn’t grab her as easily from behind.
She spun in place to help her camerawoman.
Shuffling a foot forward, Auralia managed to reach around Doli and wrap her fingers under the vulnerable pinky finger of the guy trying to steal their camera.
The weakest finger on the hand, one that caused disproportionate pain, Auralia bent the man’s digit back toward his wrist, producing a howl and a release.
Auralia gave the finger a little extra thrust to dissuade the guy from reaching out again.
As he violently shook his arm up and down, flicking his hand to relieve the pain, Auralia put her hands on Doli’s shoulder, a kind of buttress that gave them stability and hopefully kept them together as she pushed Doli forward.
Auralia’s elbows were bent enough to make them stabby and to prevent someone who knew how to fight from shoving a palm fist into the sides of her arm and snapping her like a chicken’s wishbone.
They were making headway.
Not fast enough.
A water bottle clipped Auralia’s clavicle and bounced away, and another bounced off the side of her head.
Kamar and his camera crew were there to her right, rolling tape and narrating the scene. That was his professional role here: observe, don’t intervene. He would do nothing to help. And he was right to make those decisions.
But the debris landing on their heads was getting larger and more bruising.
And now, the crowd had had enough of the hands-off approach. From behind, Auralia felt the tug of someone wrapping their fingers into her hair bun.
Auralia released Doli’s shoulders to reach back over her head and grab hold of the man’s wrist. With a quick bend to the right, she twisted under his arm, wrenching his wrist into a position that forced him to release her hair as she pressed his elbow straight, capturing the guy in an armbar—a point of stability for her next move.
From there, she swung her shin up between his legs.
His wide stance allowed her to aim for the hair on his head.
As Gator always told her, if you aim for the crotch, the power stops there; aim higher so the impact is crippling.
Auralia’s kick put the shithead in a fetal position where he couldn’t teach folks that grabbing was okay.
Doli pressed her back against Auralia’s.
How many times had this happened? How many times had they “had each other’s backs” as they fought their way through mobs around the world?
There were so many furious faces—men and women—oily and sweaty with bulging angry eyes and spit flying from words that Auralia couldn’t make out.
She felt Doli go down behind her, so she spun around to drag her friend up, but someone grabbed Auralia’s shirt and bra band, jerking her so that she had to fling her arms and scramble to keep herself upright.
Auralia needed to get Doli off the ground. Down was dangerous, even deadly.
To free herself, Auralia did the same bend and spin. It pulled the strap tight around her ribs, abrading her skin with elastic. She couldn’t make it far enough around to twist free. In fact, she probably trapped the woman’s fist in the shirt fabric.
Auralia reached up and grabbed the woman’s elbows as support while she lifted her knee and scraped the edge of her tennis shoe along the woman’s shin, then stomped hard on her insole.
Now Auralia brought her hands together at her navel, as if in prayer, driving them up through the opening made when the woman’s grasp encircled her. Hands overhead, Auralia made fists and drove her elbows down, forcing the woman to release.
The shock on her face.
Did this person think Auralia would just allow herself to be beaten?
This was nuts. Nuts!
Auralia’s arm twisted to block the blow aimed at her nose, vaguely clocking that this was probably the woman’s husband since she was clinging to his shoulder, hopping on one foot as she cried.
And then there was a man with a high and tight haircut who stepped between Auralia and the attacking couple, looking cool and efficient.
A woman with a bun just like Auralia’s put her hand on Auralia’s shoulder. “We’ve got you.”
Another jarhead lifted Doli to her feet.
Send in the Marines! Auralia’s inner voice sang as their group surrounded Doli and Auralia.
“Moving.” The guy in front of Doli barked.
“Moving,” their rescue group repeated.
They took a small step forward. Then another. Playing at being salmon swimming upstream, they shifted slowly toward the parking area.
Finally bursting through the last of the crowd and out through the security gates. There, the women dove into their rental SUV.
Doli shoved the gear into drive and took off as Auralia breathlessly called their gratitude to the Marines from the lowered window.
“Oorah!” they called in return, looking like that was the most fun ever.
Yeah, good times.
And to be fair, Auralia thought, if that had been Gator and Creed with their Marine buddies, they would have had the same looks on their faces.
Silently, Doli rattled and bucked down the unpaved road toward the rural highway at breakneck speed as Auralia texted their editor what had happened and that he should digitally run the story she’d already developed.
When her phone pinged in return, Auralia glanced at it. “I got a thumbs up on the story. Hey, Doli, when we get somewhere safe, we should probably pull over so I can type this up and you can edit the film. Did you have your phone video rolling?”
“If I do, will we be able to see anything other than punching and kicking?” Doli reached down and held up the phone case dangling from its lanyard. “Yup, rolling.” She tapped the phone to stop recording. “You?”
“Same. Yeah, maybe we can find a hotel or something and work on this. I’d like to record a segment where I narrate the clips that you choose. And also, we should probably give ourselves a once-over. You and I both know that adrenaline can mask some nasty wounds.”
Doli flung their vehicle onto the highway. “Go ahead and pull something up on the maps app and make the reservations.”
As Auralia scrolled, the cab suddenly filled with Doli’s booming laughter. It was infectious and cleansing, and Auralia was grateful for the release.
“Girlfriend, it is never boring getting assigned to you.” Doli reached for her water bottle and took a long, hard drag from the straw. “How is it that you keep landing these scoops?”
“When I look at a person, I get a sense of who they are, a taste in my mouth. And I don’t know if it’s because of how I’m made or where I’m from—maybe a bit of both, but between you and me, when there’s evil swirling around, I see my metaphorical pen as the sword getting dragged from its sheath.”
“So I take it that my aura is crystal clear since you keep asking for me to be on the stories with you.”
“Crystal clear might be a stretch. I ask for you because you’re good company in the lulls, and in the red zones, you’re a goddamned badass bitch. I need someone to protect my toes when I’m stupid enough to wear tennis shoes to a throwdown.”
The phone rang, and Auralia answered, “Hey, Kamar, you’re on speaker phone.”
“Holy shit, woman. Holy shit! My photographer is driving, and I’m reviewing his footage.
He got close-ups when you dropped the bomb on Lambton and Price.
Priceless.” He laughed at his own joke. When he sobered, he said, “I guess I need to call him Morrison now.
Here I was pissed that I got sent to this lukewarm-glass-of-water event.
And I was there for the event. Yeah, wow.
I should have known better when I saw you and Doli setting up. You two okay? Were you hurt any?
“Meh. You know, it could have been worse. We’re grateful to the Quantico folks. They’re the ones exchanging blows.”
“Speaking of blow, this is blowing up all over social media. Not surprising. Did you know that we have a nickname for you at IAP? RochamBlow’emUp.
” He chuckled, then heaved a sigh. “Hey, listen, this time, serious, you’d better be damned sure you’ve got your ducks in a row.
I’m going to send this clip to your phone because you need to be ready.
As the Marines were getting you out of the rabble, Price-Morrison said from the stage, he’s going to sue the shit out of Global, and then you personally for libel.
He says he’s coming for you. And there are a lot of politicians whose names are tied to his.
They’ll either lie low and let this storm pass, or—probably more realistic—they’ll use their power to make your life hell. ”