The young woman hurried down the darkened sidewalk. It hadn’t been such a great idea on her part to stay so late at the library, but she’d needed to study for the LSATs. The test was only a few weeks away, and she needed to do well for her law school applications.

Flinching a little at the squeal of tires and the smell of the rotting garbage that hadn’t been collected from a nearby dumpster, she clutched her bag closer and sped up. Her apartment was only a few more blocks away, and she desperately wished she was in it already.

When her arm was grabbed roughly, she opened her mouth to scream only to have it cut off by a foul-smelling hand covered by a glove. Even as she kicked and scratched, her assailant wrapped his arm around both of hers, holding her against him as he pulled her into a side alley.

Fear burned in her. She knew what happened to women when they were dragged into dark, creepy side alleys. She tried to remember what her self-defense class had taught her, but her terror was all-encompassing, not giving her an opportunity to recall anything. The arm banded around her throat was slowly cutting off circulation, and she began to feel lightheaded.

When she was tossed to the ground and held down, she didn’t recognize that the tiny, pitiful sounds she heard was her own whimpering. Hearing the ripping of her buttons, she tried to thrash out once and was clocked, hard, for her efforts.

And then, just as suddenly as the man had grabbed her, she was freed. Stunned by relief for precious seconds, she clutched her shirtfront together and rocked herself a little before pushing to her feet to look around

She heard the thud of fists, the whip of a silken cape, and the blue cap with its silver lining. "Avenging Angel," she whispered. He’d saved her. She hadn’t believed in him before, but, watching him immobilize her attacker and tie the man up with rope, she was transformed into a believer.

In moments, her would-be rapist was lying, tied up, in a corner, and her savior walked towards her. He wasn’t as tall as she’d thought he’d be, she thought, despite her awe. He wore his signature blue and silver uniform, the one she’d often heard of, his mouth grim as he approached.

"Are you okay?" His voice was soft and kind as his eyes assessed her condition. She couldn’t tell what color they were and tried to remember everything about him.

"Y-yes." Her voice trembled. "You saved my life! I don’t know how to thank you."

His lips curved slightly. "Just doing my job." He glanced over his shoulder at the attacker. "You should call the police. He’s not going anywhere."

She turned to study her assailant, no longer frightened of him—just repulsed. "Thank you so much," she said again, turning back to her hero.

He was gone.

Her eyes searched the long alley and up and down the buildings around her, but he was nowhere to be found. Sighing with relief from his rescue and still in awe, she located her bag and did as he’d told her. She called the police.

***

"Okay, fellas!" The choreographer clapped her hands together, signaling for them to stop and come together. As the four sweaty and out of breath men gathered around her, she smiled. "You’ve made a lot of progress in the past couple weeks, but we’re coming down to the wire. Thirteen days until the opening show."

AJ dabbed the sweat off his forehead. "Think we’ll be ready?"

She studied them. "Maybe. There’re still a few things here and there that could be better. Howie, are your shoes full of lead?"

"Huh?" He looked down at his sneakers. "No. Why?"

"Because you tend to stumble a little sometimes. I just wondered if those shoes were too heavy for you because that’s what it looks like." She lifted onto her toes and jumped lightly. "Think, twinkle toes." Even as Howie blushed and Nick giggled, she turned to Nick. "Nickolas."

He stopped laughing. "Yeah?" He had to fight the urge to shuffle his feet.

"I know you’ve been on a terrific diet for the past year and a half, but don’t touch the Whoppers anymore."

"But I didn’t," he began and was cut off by her deadly stare.

"I know who and what I saw at the Burger King on La Cienega. I need you to move like a fairy, not like an elephant." Her gaze passed over AJ and rested on Brian. "Brian."

He sighed, shoulders slumping a little. "I know. I came in late on a lot of stuff. I still get a little mixed up on the words sometimes. But, I swear, all my free time is spent listening to the tracks and singing along."

AJ patted his shoulder. "Try dancing and singing in front of a mirror. It helps me out."

The choreographer smiled at him before resting her hand on Brian’s arm. "You’ve improved a lot. I didn’t even have to tell you what you still need to work on because you already know. I think we’re all pretty proud of you. Right, guys?"

There was a chorus of "yeah" and "absolutely" and a lot of pats on Brian’s back. "Thanks, guys. I promise I won’t let you down."

"We’re not worried," Howie told him. "You’ve never let us down, and you’re not about to start."

"And on that uplifting note," the choreographer grinned, "take an hour and then be back here, ready to work on the last couple songs."

Brian watched the other guys grab water bottles and let them walk out of the room before he sat in a corner and rested his head against the wall. He was excited about the tour, sure, but he was worried that he would let the others down. It didn’t matter what they said because he knew he’d already disappointed them by messing up so often on the lyrics and the way his voice was never where it should be at the right times.

Closing his eyes, he sighed. He knew Baylee was more than ready to be out on the road with the Boys, but Brian wondered if he was doing the right thing for either of them. Maybe it was too soon to be on the road. Baylee should have been starting first grade in the fall, not going on tour. True, he’d gotten his kindergarten education from a tutor when they’d been…traveling. But there was more to first grade than learning things from a tutor. He wanted Baylee to have friends and to gain experiences that every five and six year old should have. If Leighanne had been there, she wouldn’t have allowed Baylee to be on the tour all the time.

But she wasn’t, he thought, despairingly. She was gone, and, with her, any rhyme and reason to his life. Unable to sleep, his nights were full of restlessness, loneliness, and the fears and doubts of being a single parent.

***

"Look, Captain, this guy is dangerous." Mackenzie Adams slapped the latest copy of the LA Times on the desk of her commanding officer. The headline was, once again, about another rescue by the Avenging Angel. "He’s taking the law into his own hands."

Captain John Riley scanned the front page and couldn’t quite suppress a grin. "Lieutenant Adams. Mac." He gestured to a chair. "Have a seat."

Frowning, she dropped into one of the cushy armchairs across the desk from him. "You know I’m right."

"Look, maybe the guy is a little deranged. It’s not normal behavior to go rampaging across the city like a superhero or something." Riley shook his head. "Apparently, he wears a uniform, and I can’t help thinking that no sane man would strap himself up in Spandex. But I can’t argue with the fact that he’s saved at least fifty people in the past couple months."

Mac fired up again, green eyes flashing furiously behind her glasses. "Captain. If you agree that he’s not all there up here," she tapped her head, "then doesn’t it follow that he could snap at any time? Instead of saving the victim, maybe, one night, he’ll end up hurting someone."

"Now, Mac, there’s no proof of that."

"Not yet, but, if we don’t try to stop him, we might get that proof. Avenging Angel or not, he’s too dangerous out there."

Riley folded his hands on his desk and studied one of his best agents. She was brilliant, had stellar instincts, and was stubborn as hell. "The LAPD hasn’t been complaining about the extra help they’ve been getting. If it wasn’t for this Angel guy, who knows how many people would have ended up in the hospital, or, worse, in the cemetery. The fact is, Mac, no matter how much you want to do something, I just can’t give any federal authorization to apprehend the man or even set up a team to find him."

"You don’t need a team." She leaned forward, face intense, eyes determined. "I’ll do it. Just say the word, and I’ll find this guy."

"Mac, we don’t have any way to find this man. There’s no proof of his existence, other than the fact that he’s saved dozens of people. They’re the only ones who’ve seen him, had any interaction with him."

"Then, I’ll start with them. Maybe he’s been helping people in a focused part of the city. Captain, as much as it may seem so, Los Angeles is not safe with him out there."

He shook his head. "I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but this is one case that’s not going to happen. Besides, if we locked up this city’s new mascot, the media and the mass public would have our heads on a platter."

"And if we don’t find him before he does something terrible, they might have our heads on a platter because we didn’t stop him." But Mac knew the strategies of war. She knew it was better to retreat from a battle if there were other ways for her to win the war. "Fine." She stood, brushing her too-long bangs out of her eyes. "I won’t do anything. I just hope I won’t be saying I told you so at some point in the future."

"If that time comes, you can celebrate about how right you were." But Captain Riley smiled anyway. "Get back to work, Adams. I need those reports from the Blakeley case before you leave today."

Sure, Mac thought, frustrated, as she walked back into the bull pen of the FBI’s Los Angeles offices. Some of the men and women working called out greetings to her as she passed. She’d been working here for five years and had risen fairly quickly through the ranks because of her stubbornness and her instincts. Those instincts were humming now, she thought as she pinned her unruly bangs to the top of her head.

She strode into her corner office and shut the door. Tugging off the band that held her dark hair up, she tried to massage the headache that was beginning to brew. She hated being shot down when she knew she was right about something. And she was right about this Avenging Angel.

The law was wielded by those who’d been trained to handle it, not by some whacko that decided to take matters into his own hands. Mac tacked the cover page to a bulletin board already crowded with other articles about the city’s caped crusader. Stepping back, she studied the pictures and headlines with a sharp eye.

Captain Riley had been right about one thing, she decided. She didn’t have any solid place to start looking for the Avenging Angel. But she knew how to wait. Sooner or later, the guy was bound to slip up. And when he did, she’d get him.

In the meantime, she had other lives to save.