He said nothing.
Adrenaline pumped through her veins. She focused her strength and aimed a punch at the nerve plexus in his shoulder, expecting his arm to go numb. Nothing happened. He dragged her in short bursts toward the alley.
She heard her purse hit the sidewalk with a thud. The jangle of keys. As soon as she got one hand free, she was going to break his fucking nose. She purposely went limp in his arms, making him take her full body weight. He shifted his grip.
Perfect. She faced him now, chin tucked. She lowered her arm to give her more momentum for the strike. She let him drag her another three feet while she got her feet firmly on the ground, bent her knees, jumped and hit…
Air.
Her target fell away from her as Matrix man from the bar grabbed him by the hair and lifted him off the ground. She reeled, off-balance.
Matrix man held the mugger by the throat.
“Hey, he’s mine!” Audrey reached to knock his arm aside. “Call the cops if you want to do something useful. He might be alive when they get here.”
Matrix man flinched and stepped away from her, hauling the mugger with him. The mugger wasn’t moving. He seemed frozen in place. That pissed her off even more. Now he got all cooperative? “Let him go!”
Matrix man glanced down at her with his electrifying eyes. “No.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the creep reach into his pocket. She darted forward.
Cal held the lowlife scum by the throat, sending just enough current down his arm to stun him. It was cute that the blonde wanted to finish the fight, but she hadn’t exactly been winning when he’d entered the fray. Another ten feet and she’d have been in the alley. He wouldn’t even have seen her on the street.
He boxed her out with his shoulders, not wanting to make accidental contact. The distraction cost him. Metal flashed. The blonde threw herself between them. He cut the current. Was she fucking nuts?
“Stay back,” he yelled. “He’s got a weapon.” He grabbed the creep’s wrist and zapped him again. Nothing happened. The kid twisted in his grip, jabbing him in the arm with the silver rod. Red light cracked to the ground. His hand abruptly jellyfished. He looked down and saw that his coat was smoking and his forearm was broken in half, jagged edges of bone punching through the skin.
He snarled. What the fuck was that thing? It was not a gun. It had to be some sort of energy device. The woman threw herself at them again. Cal twisted so that she bounced off leather, not his skin. He had a split second to get his body in between her and the weapon. He moved, faster than he ever had in his life, but he lost his grip on the kid.
“Stop!” She grabbed his good hand. “He’s running, and you’re hurt.”
Cal jerked his hand out of her grasp and fell to his knees, unable to support his weight and control his negative charge at the same time. She sank to her knees beside him, easing him to the sidewalk.
“Don’t touch me,” he ground out, afraid to move, afraid to breathe.
She didn’t smell fried. She didn’t look fried. He rolled onto his back.
“Do you have a cell phone? Mine was in my purse and you need an ambulance.”
“Yes. Wait, no. Are you crazy?” That was all she had to say? Not thank you? He didn’t need an ambulance—a doctor, sure, but not the kind she meant. He sat up. His arm dangled, useless.
She gasped. “That’s worse than I thought. Lie back down.”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
“That’s because you’re in shock. Lie down before the bone does any more damage to your skin.”
He ignored her. Leaning to the side, he wrestled his charge under control and eased his insulated cell phone out of his pocket. He hit number one on speed dial. When the Doc answered he said, “Your services are required on Broadway and Bailey. Bring Sam—we’ve got outside involvement.” He ended the call.
“Can I borrow your cell? That asshole got my purse. I’ll call 911.”
“No need. I’ve got help coming. Don’t touch my skin, okay?” When the girls got here, he’d leave with Doc and let Sam do damage control.
“Hospital,” she insisted. “You can’t go home like that. If the pain doesn’t drive you mad, your arm will get infected. A bacterial infection can kill you.”
“You’re a doctor?”
She nodded. “I don’t even want to think about the germs that live in this neighborhood.” She held out her hand.
He ignored it. “I told you, I called my doctor. If you want to do something, you could say thank you.”
“Thank you for what?” Her jaw jutted and her brow wrinkled. “I was about to drop that creep and you got in my way. Now my purse is gone and I have to make sure you get medical attention. This is not how I wanted to spend my next few hours. I was going back to work.”