Alexei slung his arm over Sean’s shoulders, reeling him in close as they walked down the street. “We go back after pancakes?”
“Kind of thought we could do something else? Maybe hit up the National Mall and go to a museum or maybe the gardens.”
Alexei wasn’t a big fan of museums—looking at paintings or ancient objects was boring—but Sean liked to go every now and then. He wasn’t going to say no to something Sean enjoyed. “Is what you want, we go.”
Sean flashed him a smile. “Great.”
Their plan for the day was a fun one—too bad they never got to enjoy it.
As usual, there was a wait to get into Flapjacks. The restaurant always rated high on food blogs and was a big draw for tourists and locals alike. Sean slipped out from beneath Alexei’s arm, intent on adding their name to the electronic list, when a pair of office workers with the rapid strides of people needing to be somewhere cut through the small crowd of people waiting on the sidewalk.
He couldn’t say what tipped him off—just that something did. Before the folded-up piece of synthpaper could smack against his chest, Alexei grabbed the guy by his wrist and shoulder and slammed him face-first against the nearest solid object. The car parked on the side of the street shuddered from the impact, the man’s scream of pain drowned out by a car alarm going off as Alexei dislocated his arm.
The guy heaved against him, and Alexei didn’t think, just slammed him harder against the car, one of the ceramic throwing knives he always carried suddenly in his hand and pressed hard against the man’s kidney.
“Move, I kill you,” Alexei growled.
“Is that a fuckingknife?” the guy shrieked, voice gone high-pitched in fear.
“Lyosha!”
Only Sean’s shout stopped Alexei from killing the man in his grasp any number of ways he knew how. He wouldn’t even need his knife to do it. Narrowing his eyes, Alexei didn’t take his weight off the guy, keeping him pinned to the car, the knife and incessant pressure not letting up.
“Fucking hell, man, it was just a goddamn subpoena!” the guy yelled frantically, tears of pain sliding down his face.
“Think it funny to attack someone?” Alexei snarled.
“Oh fuck you, I was just doing my job—”
“Lyosha,no, he’s a process server, not the enemy,” Sean snapped, grabbing him by the shoulder before Alexei could do something stupid.
Like kill the asshole.
“This is assault!” the guy shouted. “Someone call the cops!”
Sean waved two crumpled pieces of synthpaper in front of Alexei’s nose, a grim expression on his face. “Subpoenas. Exactly like the other one.”
He didn’t have to say Jamie’s name for Alexei to know who he was talking about. The team had been informed by the brass when Jamie was served with the subpoena concerning his role as the financial backer to Root Source, Inc. Sean had commented at the time they would probably be targeted for service as well.
Apparently, he was right.
Alexei looked past Sean at the huddled groups of people that had rapidly put distance between them. The other process server was hovering just out of arm’s reach, as if he wanted to come to his partner’s defense but understood that was probably not the best course of action if he wanted to stay alive. Quite a few in the crowd were recording what was happening.
“Need to fix,” Alexei said, jerking his head in the direction of the cameras.
MDF hackers could legally surveil people in an attempt to keep every metahuman’s classified identity a secret in situations like this. The right to privacy was always being fought over in the court every couple of years by the ACLU or other attorneys. Congress had deemed long ago that the needs of the many outweighed the few in this particular instance and that divisive law remained on the books.
Sirens sounded in the distance, growing louder with every second that passed. The Metropolitan Police Department had a quick response rate for most calls, only because this was the nation’s capital. Alexei had lived in Boston, where sometimes they took their sweet time coming into immigrant neighborhoods. But this was an up-and-coming location for more well-off people, so when someone called for help, the police rushed to answer.
Alexei scanned the area, making sure no other threats were present before he let the asshole go, tucking his knife back out of sight. The guy lurched backward, face a little gray, his left arm hanging limply against his body at a bad angle.
Sean put a hand to Alexei’s chest and pushed him back a few steps, shaking his head in warning. “Don’t touch them,” he ordered in a low voice. “Base, we got a problem.”
Alexei ignored whatever conversation Sean was having with the supervising agents on duty back at headquarters over encrypted comms in favor of glaring at the two process servers so hard both men had to turn their backs on him.
“Quit looking like you want to murder them. Cops don’t appreciate that attitude,” Sean said.
“Not care about cops,” Alexei retorted.
