Benny’s hand flashed toward his sword, but the solder had his pistol out so fast the blade was only a quarter drawn. The barrel dug hard into Benny’s cheek, right beside his nose.
“Give me a reason,” said Peruzzi.
The other soldiers chuckled, and they swung their rifles up toward the girls.
Peruzzi sneered. “You suckered those idiots who were working this detail earlier. You ever touch any of my men again and I’ll hurt you in ways you ain’t ever heard of.”
The gun barrel was cold, but it felt hot against Benny’s skin. He was absolutely terrified, but at the same time a vicious rage was boiling in his gut.
“Y’all better put that gun down,” advised Riot.
“And y’all better shut your ugly mouth,” said Peruzzi, mocking her Appalachian accent.
“Just trying to give you fair warning is all,” she said, seemingly unflustered by the guns.
“Yeah, well how about you kiss my—”
And there was a low growl.
A deep-chested growl that sounded like it came from a bear.
Riot smiled. Everyone else turned to see Grimm standing inches behind the rearmost soldier, dressed in his full battle armor except for the spiked helmet. The dog was more massive than even the largest of the men, and anger made muscles bunch and flex under his hide. The motion clanked the chain mail he wore, and yet everyone had been so absorbed in the confrontation that they hadn’t noticed the mastiff’s approach.
The big ranger, Joe, walked slowly toward the group. He was dressed in camouflage, with boots, gun belt, sidearm, sword, and rifle. He carried a heavy duffel bag easily in one hand.
Nobody said a word as the ranger drew near. However, Peruzzi lowered his pistol.
“Grimm,” said Joe, “down.”
The dog immediately stopped growling and sat. But his eyes burned with a clear desire to bite something that would scream.
Joe walked up to Peruzzi and then kept walking so that the soldier had to give ground and back away. He backed the man all the way to the upraised bridge. Peruzzi’s shoulders, heels, and the back of his head thumped against the steel. Without taking his eyes off Peruzzi, Joe reached down and took his pistol away from him. He dropped the magazine into the sand, ejected the round, and tossed the pistol into the trench.
Peruzzi opened his mouth with the beginning of a sharp protest, but Joe leaned in so close that their foreheads touched.
“Go ahead, sergeant,” mur
mured Joe quietly, “say it. Say something. Tell me exactly what’s on your mind, because as you know I’ve always been fascinated by the particular species of thoughts that evolve in your brain. It’s like science fiction sometimes. Hard to believe a human brain is at work here.”
Peruzzi was able to hold eye contact with Joe for three seconds, and then he looked down. But Joe wasn’t interested. He leaned back far enough to bring his hand up between them and tap Peruzzi sharply on the forehead.
“I didn’t catch that,” he said. “I missed the part where you apologized to these young women and to my friend Benjamin here.”
“S-sorry,” mumbled Peruzzi.
Joe patted his cheek. “Yeah, I know you are.” His back was still turned to the other three soldiers. “It would suck for all parties involved if I turned around and saw that you three stooges were still pointing your weapons rather than standing at attention with rifles slung.”
Grimm growled again, softly but meaningfully.
The soldiers snapped to attention.
Joe gave Peruzzi a last penetrating stare. “We’re not going to have this discussion again, are we, Sergeant Peruzzi?”
“No, sir.”
“And I can sleep soundly at night—every night—in the sure knowledge that nothing untoward will happen to these four young people here . . . or their friend in the blockhouse. I mean, we can agree on that, right?”
“Yes, sir.”