“Solomon wants a word,” the Para said.

Liam’s expression chilled. “I don’t see him here, and I don’t speak to men who are too cowardly to deliver their own messages.”

The Para bared his teeth. “Only an idiot insults Solomon.”

“Only an idiot works for Solomon,” Liam corrected. “He was captured by Containment, lives in Devil’s Isle, and uses errand boys. Not exactly great leadership.”

It happened simultaneously—the Paras behind moved forward to grab me as the ones in front moved toward Liam.

Liam’s gun—the one he’d handed over to Containment—sure would have been handy right now.

The first guy who came at me smelled like rancid water. I sidestepped him and, when he paused to pivot, smashed a boot heel into his instep. He swore, stumbled, staggered back.

The second one came in lower. I reached out to hit him, but my fingers skidded off slick, rubbery skin. It was like trying to punch a stingray.

The Para roared, lunged forward. I tried to dodge, but he was faster. He wrapped an arm around my waist, hauling me into the air.

“Let go, you asshole!” I kicked backward, trying to land my heel between his legs, but he kept dancing away from my feet.

The sound of bone and flesh connecting punched through the air. I looked for Liam, saw the first Para howl and stagger back as Liam’s uppercut landed.

Liam was built like a boxer—solid and lean—and he moved like one. Light on his feet, quick to move, and quick to dodge.

The Para tried to hit back, but his swing went wide when Liam ducked to avoid it. He came up again, landed a blow to the Para’s stomach, which put him in a crouch.

With his partner down, the next Para stepped up, and he didn’t look nearly as excited to fight now.

I squirmed, trying to get free, but the Para’s arm tightened around my waist. He was stronger than me, and I didn’t have a weapon that I could actually use. Not with cameras potentially engaged.

I needed a distraction.

I went for the obvious. “Containment!” I yelled.

He started, dropped me. I hit the ground and, when he leered over me, nailed him in the crotch.

He might not have been human, but he was human enough. He made a strangled sound, fell to his knees.

I looked back. Liam took a hard punch to the side, but stood straight again, eyes gleaming. Liam Quinn clearly enjoyed a good fight—and battle looked pretty good on him.

The time Solomon had managed to buy ran out. An air raid siren began to howl, just like the kind Containment had used to warn us of incoming attacks.

Agents hurried out of buildings and alleys toward us, batons raised and ready to meet unyielding flesh.

Curtains snapped closed as Paras who’d stopped their business to watch ducked inside again, made themselves invisible. They were interested in this human skirmish, but didn’t want any part of a Containment investigation.

The agents rushed forward, surrounding the Paras and yelling orders until they were on the ground facedown, hands behind their heads.

“Solomon will hear about this!” the first Para muttered.

“Yeah,” Liam muttered. “From me.”

•   •   •

A few Containment agents escorted Solomon’s men to some unseen part of Devil’s Isle too depressing for me to even imagine. Two others asked us questions about the fight—who’d started it, what it was about. Not surprisingly, Liam didn’t give them much, and they sent us on our way pretty quickly.

We didn’t see a single Para on the walk back. Either it had gotten too late even for them, or they’d decided they were better off inside—away from Solomon’s men and Containment.