LITMIR.BIZ

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and followed Sela Wu back to the motor court where some of the riders were staying.

      Good thing, he reflected a little later, the other racers hadn’t yet made it back this hazy afternoon. He and the athletic Ms. Wu made loud sounds of pleasure like they were auditioning for a porn epic while making love in her room.

      “Shit,” Wu enthused afterward, lying beside him, a taut leg over his six-pack abs, his now limp member in her hand. “You sure have a luscious dick, Noc.” She wasn’t going to feed his ego more and tell him she enjoyed having it in her mouth and other parts of her body.

      “That’s the sweetest thing a woman has ever said to me,”

      They laughed and let their sweat cool on their skin. After going at it again, the two stepped out and got some food at the Desert Rose diner two blocks over.

      The following morning, minutes past dawn, Brenner left her room and got on his bike resting on its kickstand. He put on his helmet and started his machine and quietly rode off the lot, his wheels crunching on the gravel. He went halfway down the block, parked his bike, and walked back to the motor court.

      Purposely, he didn’t cross the gravel but came back along the thin concrete ribbon of a walkway to the rear of the establishment. Then he went up the stairs to the second floor. He knocked lightly at a specific door and said, “Problem with your credit card, sir.”

      There was movement on the other side. A man cleared his throat. The night locks were undone, and the door opened to a sliver. Brenner shoved it wider and stepped quickly into the room. He held a set of folded up nanchakus, nunchucks they were commonly called, in his hand. Brenner shook the folded nunchucks at the pleasant-faced man. The martial arts weapon was made of two stout and short wooden clubs joined by a short length of chain. He’d removed them from the backpack strapped to his motorcycle.

      “You were in the Desert Rose and the bar yesterday,” Brenner said calmly. “I don’t think it was a coincidence.”

      Calmly as well, the other man, in his forties Brenner estimated, held up his hands. “I’m quite sure you know how to use those things,” he said, pointing at the nunchucks. “I can assure you, I won’t give you any reason to beat a rhythm on my graying head.”

      The man was dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt, but Brenner imagined he’d look at home in an old-fashioned smoking jacket and silk pajamas. He added, “But how did you know I was staying here as well? I made sure to let you two lovebirds leave ahead of me last night.”

      Brenner took a step toward him. “You jonesing for Sela, man, that it? I can cure you of that condition real quick.”

      “Mister Brenner, violence is not necessary, really.” He gestured toward the round table and the two chairs found in each room. “Have a seat, and I can explain why we reached out to you.”

      “I don’t give a shit about no, ’we,’ understand?” When he’d spotted the pleasant-faced man again the previous night, he’d wondered about such being happenstance. When he and Sela Wu got back to the motor court after dinner, he’d gone back out to the front desk later. On duty was an overweight but pretty twentysomething behind the desk who’d checked him in when he’d first arrived. She’d also been at the race, and, after a bit of flirting, including laying his phone number on her, he got the room number for the dude that looked like that guy her parents used to watch on TV.

      “I represent an entity that could use a man of your talents,” the older man was saying. He’d sat down, talking up to the still standing Brenner. “My name is Efrem Koburn, and yes, this looks a little creepy, but I’m no freak. I just wanted to see how you handle yourself; how you were when not on stage, if I make my meaning clear.”

      “You don’t.” Brenner wasn’t sure how to interpret the vibe he was getting off the man. He seemed sincere, but he also seemed like a man practiced in the methods of persuasion.

      “Let me show you this.” Koburn was up and reaching for his folded pants atop the small dresser. Brenner let one of the nunchuks dangle, ready for striking. Koburn had his wallet in his hand and removed a card. He handed this to Brenner.

      On the car it read, VIGILANCE INITIATIVE, and there was a phone number below the name that was an 888 number.

      “Scuba diver, award-winning surfer, you can fly a jet, you’ve won mixed martial arts matches.” He flicked his hand as if he were a magician about to make the lady appear. “You’re a high school dropout, yet I’d wager you appreciate the physics involved in where your sweet spot is when making three-pointers.”

      The stranger smiled faintly at his six-foot three-inch visitor, who, though still, gave the impression of a fluidly muscled jungle animal capable of beauty and harm in its actions.

      “Your nickname, Noc, that some kind of surfer term? I would have thought your friends would have an affectionate term for you for the seemingly effortless way you have of mastering various skill sets.” He considered what he was saying then added, “Oh, is it some sort of idiomatic rendition of how you knock out, eliminate, your competitors? Possibly originated by a drunk buddy in a bar?”

      A stoic Brenner said, “You got a point, Koburn?”

      “You’re wasting time just getting by, Ned, earning pocket change and the rent money on your abilities. You could be doing so much more for yourself…for your fellow man.”

      “Vigilance some kind of pyramid scheme, huh? Gonna recruit me to sell highrise condos on undeveloped parcels?”

      “How about saving lives, fighting for justice?” The pleasant-faced man got serious.

      Brenner crumpled up the card and tossed it on the table. “How about you make sure you stay away from me and Sela? You just do that, and leave your blowing smoke for the suckers.” He walked out while the other man shook his head slightly.

      CHAPTER TWO

      The attacker was large, six-five or so, and, though his belly was protruding, there was muscle in his upper arms and chest. His fist clipped Brenner on the side of his jaw, and he staggered back. The big man pressed his attack but was rudely surprised when Brenner not only evaded his next blow but countered with a one-two combination that made stars burst behind his eyes.

      “That ain’t shit, bitch,” the large man blared, but he didn’t immediately wade in either. He had his fists up in defensive mode as did Brenner, the side of his mouth bloody. Each man circled the other on the basketball court like old time bare knucklers. The larger man, called Griz, short for grizzly, suddenly charged, trying to tackle and upend the smaller Brenner.

      Griz got his meaty arms around Brenner, determined to humiliate this tanned white boy. An underhand blow to Griz’s jaw rocked him, and the big baller stumbled, letting Brenner go while he did his best to stay on his feet. Griz’s side had been losing in the pick-up game. There was just something so goddamn sure about this bronze-haired surfer boy with his effortless layups and steals that had gotten under Griz’s skin. He lost it when the dude called him out, yet again, on his blatant fouls.

      The big man looked around and, suddenly, there was Brenner to his flank, just coming into the periphery of his vision. But he got his hands up too late, and Brenner was suddenly close inside his arms, and he unleashed an uppercut that sent an electric jolt through the larger man, making him buckle at the knees.

      The onlookers as one gasped, “Da-yum.”

      Griz fought back, but the end was inevitable. He got off a solid punch, but Brenner deflected it and unleashed a flurry of combinations to his mid-section and jaw. In less than another minute, Griz was down on all fours on the asphalt, breathing hard, his mouth dripping blood, mostly now from the missing front tooth.

      “How manly you are,” a woman said. There were several other women about, but this one was dressed designer uptown in a hip hugging skirt and matching silk jacket. She had her arms folded and was leaning on part of the chain link fence. Black haired and dark-eyed, she was a knockout.

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