Page 5 of Radar

Xander was about to have his brains bashed against the rock. Clenching his jaw, he hardened his neck muscles to stop any momentum.

“Where is these?” the goon growled.

In a surprise reprieve, the man jumped off him. His coconspirators jerked Xander to his feet, where they unbuttoned Xander’s coat and dragged it down his arms. One of the men searched the pockets and seams while the others held Xander’sarms in vice grips. They lifted his sweater and shirt, running hands over every inch of him, taking the opportunity to land punitive blows as they went.

Xander didn’t feel any pain. Adrenaline was doing its job of masking in the moment so he could stay in the fight.

He’d feel it later.

The attack had been fast and violent despite the leisurely crawl his brain was taking him on.

This encounter was probably at the three-minute mark from the signal whistle to the rabbit punches he was bracing his muscles against.

The way they groped and rubbed every inch of him, Xander might have thought their intention was rape, but they’d asked, “Where is these?” This was a robbery, he reasoned—hoped.

Right now, Xander was rubbery on his legs, not yet able to hold his full weight. Not that he was trying all that hard. Holding him up made this—whateverthiswas—more complicated for the attackers.

Playing possum sometimes served a fighter well. In a moment, Xander could just burst out with his special forces fighting skills and take down all three.

Joking. He was joking.

Okay, maybe not joking, Xander thought as he wrapped his hands around the scruff of two of the men’s necks and banged their heads together in a violent blow. The hollow-sounding thunk of the heads crashing one against the other cast a nauseating echo.

Stunned, they dropped to the ground.

Xander raised his fist in the air and drove his elbow down behind him to break the grip of the man at his back and to feel for the guy’s position. Nodding forward, Xander banged his head backward, impacting the goon’s face just as a light flashed in front of Xander with such high lumens that he squinted his eyestightly shut and ducked his head to protect his ability to see on this gloom-filled night.

The light lowered to his stomach, and a woman’s voice, menacing and authoritative, said something incomprehensible; he supposed it was in Slovak.

The three men staggered back to their feet and shambled off into the shadows.

Xander fell against the wall, sliding down until he sat with his knees posted and his head curled over.

“It’s Anna.” She turned her light toward the street and did a sweep.

Xander realized she was breathing just as hard. She must have leaped up from her bar booth and raced to his aid.

He raised a hand in acknowledgment.

“Well, shit, Xander.” Anna shoved her gun into her waistband and reached under his arms, dragging him to his feet. “You can’t sit on the ground without your coat. You’ll go hypothermic.”

As he stood, Xander looked around him for where the thugs had tossed his jacket. He noticed Anna didn’t have a coat on either. Yeah, she’d jumped and run out into the subzero night to come to his aid.

That’s how he remembered her from the AWG. If someone was in trouble, Anna was the first to plunge into the fray to help with zero thoughts of her own safety.

He should never doubt that her character was above reproach.

“They took the coat with them,” she said. “Do you know who they were?”

Xander winced as he took a step forward. “Me? No. Did you recognize them?”

“Why would I rec—Come on.” She pulled his arm over her shoulder, holding it in place with her outside hand as her inside arm snaked around his waist. “Walk.”

Xander moved gingerly to the bar door.

Before Anna turned the knob, she said, “No one knows I’m meeting you. My good friend Tatiana lives in the apartment upstairs. I always hang out with her on Tuesday nights and have for years. Those men aren’t associated with The Family, I can assure you. Why would you think that?”

“Because I’m here with you.”