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with sureness toward the group Tara had first noticed. “Let’s see if you can fight, Torgo.” He was almost twice the size of the younger boy whom he addressed.
    Tara realized quickly that the younger boy had very few fighting skills as he backed awkwardly down the alley.
    His comrades spread away from him, the hope of escape obvious in their faces.
    “Don’t be telling me we have a coward here?” The large boy laughed, lunging at the younger one as he feigned a punch. “It couldn’t be, I would think.”
    Torgo turned and made an attempt to run, but he was quickly overtaken and thrown to the ground. He tried to yell.
    But the older boy sat on him and put one hand over Torgo’s mouth. With the other, he started hitting Torgo. “Not only can you not fight, you would cry like a baby for help, would you?” The large boy laughed again; the other boys stood around watching.
    Tara removed the small laser from her dress pocket and shot at a trashcan next to the group of boys. The metal can sliced into two pieces that flew down the alley in opposite directions. Its lid slammed against the wall. The pieces made a horrific sound, the screeching sound echoing off the buildings, which intensified the effect.
    The frightened boys jumped and scattered down the side street.
    Torgo tried to get up and run, but fell awkwardly back to the ground.
    Tara rose from behind the trashcan and walked over to the boy.
    “You know, son, often if you act like you’re willing to take a challenge, a bully will back down, he will,” Tara said, in her best Gothman accent. “Let me see you now.” She held up his face and looked at the scratches that were starting to bleed. “It’ll be hard to explain how you got those while studying in school.” She smiled at the child.
    He smiled back cautiously. “How did you do that?” Torgo sputtered.
    “I’m not rightly sure. I threw a rock. I was trying to hit the boy that was pounding you. That trash can had to be rotted clear through.” Tara rolled her eyes and the young boy laughed. She hoped no one inspected the destroyed can too closely.
    His laughter stopped quickly as he looked past Tara toward the sidewalk.
    Tara turned and saw a man sitting on a motorcycle, watching. Blond curls fell to his shirt. His expression revealed none of his thoughts, and dark, penetrating gray eyes stared at her without blinking. His appearance was rugged…distracting…but more than that.
    He was captivating.
    The man shifted his attention to the boy, then looked at Tara again with a bit more interest.
    She returned the gaze with an equal amount of regard. She could tell by the size of the motorcycle he was straddling that he was fairly tall. He wore a dark plaid shirt with a brown leather jacket over it. It was unbuttoned and successfully displayed a broad, muscular chest. She noticed a crest embroidered on the sleeve of his jacket and the matching crest on his motorcycle.
    “They challenged me. What was I to do?” Torgo stood as tall as his young body would allow as he spoke to the man.
    “Back to school with you. We’ll talk about this later, we will.” The words were barely out of the man’s mouth before the boy took off running as fast as his legs would take him.
    Tara stood silently, continuing to watch the man’s eyes as they surveyed her. She assumed the boy was his son, and she would never allow herself to show interest in a married man, but his look possessed her and it was hard to look away. After so long, she was finally standing face to face with a Gothman warrior…a gorgeous one at that.
    “Who might you be, lass?” The man’s voice was softer now. He studied her, as if memorizing her features, or perhaps trying to remember where he might have seen her before.
    “I’m Reena’s niece. My name’s Tara.” Tara finally remembered to lower her eyes and quickly did so. For some reason, her heart pounded, and she felt her palms grow damp.
    “I haven’t seen you before, that’s for