Julian Read Free Page A

Aidan, arms pumping, eyes focused on the boy. Aidan was suddenly glad he was taller and heavier than most teens his age. As the man brushed past, Aidan threw a hip check, launching the stranger over his back and into the street, where he crashed to the pavement, let out an explosive grunt and lay still.
    Aidan steadied himself, then lined up on the second pursuer. The guy had seen what Aidan had done to his partner so he would be on guard. He’d probably try a head-fake. Training his eyes on his opponent’s chest as the man barrelled toward him, Aidan took a step forward. The man feinted to the left but his shoulders tilted to the right, giving away his intention. Aidan dipped his knees, jammed his shoulder into the man’s chest, heaved and, using the man’s momentum against him, redirected his body off his feet and into the air. The man pivoted and tumbled with a crash into a row of trash cans, strewing garbage across the sidewalk.
    Aidan snatched a glance over his shoulder in time to see the kid bolting between two houses, then turned back to the two remaining men quickly closing on him. They split up, like forwards rushing the net. As the first reached him, Aidan held up his hands, as if surrendering, and faked a smile, bringing a look of confusion to the pursuer’s face. Still grinning, Aidan head-butted him. Aidan felt the blowin his forehead, heard the crack of bone, then a howl. Groaning, the man cupped his hands over his broken nose as blood dribbled off his chin.
    Three down. By now the element of surprise had evaporated. Aidan scurried backwards to give himself room. The last attacker reached into his jacket as he rushed forward. Aidan heard a click, saw the blade, threw up his hands in desperation as the man lunged and slashed at his face. He felt a bee sting on his palm, then a burning pain. The attacker stumbled, thrown off-balance by his charge. Aidan stepped in and buried his fist in the man’s stomach. As he grunted and folded, Aidan turned and ran.
    He flew along the street and threw himself down the driveway where the kid had gone. Ahead, he saw the boy vaulting a fence. He must have watched the action from hiding before taking off when Aidan began his sprint. Trailing blood he hardly noticed, Aidan caught up to the boy on the road, loping toward a café on Dundas Street. Smart little guy, heading to a place with lots of people.
    “Hold up!” Aidan called, pulling a hanky from his hip pocket and wrapping it around his hand. “They’re gone.”
    The boy walked on without turning around. A few minutes later Aidan and he were sitting in a booth at the back of the crowded doughnut and coffee shop, the kid with his jacket over his knees to hide a wet spot Aidan had noticed but ignored.
    “Who were those guys? Why were they after you?” he asked.
    “You got a phone?”
    “No, don’t you?”
    “It was in my backpack. I’m supposed to keep it in my pocket.”
    “Are you going to answer my question?”
    The kid looked around, then got up, holding his jacket at his waist.
    “Wait a minute,” Aidan snapped. “Don’t you realize you were almost kidnapped?”
    “I’ll use the pay phone,” the boy said, and he walked away, picking his way among the tables to a phone near the washroom door.
    Aidan followed. “You’re not going to call the cops, are you?”
    “No way.”
    While the kid used the phone, Aidan washed his bloody hand at the washroom sink, not quite believing that he had taken on four guys and left them on the ground. He was relieved that the boy wasn’t going to involve the police, who would make life complicated for both of them. Dark red blood oozed steadily from the gash in the edge of his palm, opposite the thumb. He dried his hand as best he could, then rewrapped it in the bloody handkerchief.
    The kid had been petrified by the ordeal, Aidan realized—so scared he’d wet his pants—but had shown no surprise. Most kids his age would have been babbling their heads off once they