Maybe there was a new outfit in my future. When Jenn went off with such bravado, she’d usually recalled a wholesale fabric store or garment studio within her night’s draw. Not the street-level variety—to the trade only. Up a few stories, safe from the Wave. IT was her livelihood before, but as she would say, fashion was her passion.

I was all set to follow when Rubio pinned my arm to the rail.

“Don’t want to miss this, do you?”

Rousseau had fired up our biofuel outboard and hauled up inside the ring of canoes. He cut the sputtering engine and stood, his bare chest sheened, his favorite vest dark with sweat. Balancing easily, he stepped to the center of the boat. “Okay, lads. Listen up!”

The paddlers hushed and slewed their bows inward, stroking gentle figure-eights to keep the canoes in place.

“Such reverence,” muttered Rubio.

I dug an elbow into his ribs. “You want them after you twice in one night?”

Rousseau’s resonant baritone carried over the water. He didn’t have to shout. “It’s a hot night and I know you’re eager to go out and kick some butt.”

A round of cheers and manly roaring. Paddles slapping the water.

“You think Jake writes his dialogue? Any moment it’ll be, ‘We few, we happy few, we band of . . . ’ ”

“Will you shut up?” I hissed.

Rousseau signaled for quiet. “I get it. I do. You want someone to pay for hurting our little girl! But hear me! We do things differently, here at Unca Joe.”

Murmurs only this time. Paddles dripped. Concentric ripples chased each other toward the edges of the flooded square.

“We do not provoke. We do not attack. We don’t even know who we’re after.”

Total silence. The water gone still as a mirror, reflecting the deepening sky.

“So, instead? We defend.”

“Uh-oh,” Rubio breathed in my ear. “Daddy’s taking their toys away.”

But in the circle of torchlight, Rousseau’s grin showed pale in his dark face, fervent and rousing. He stretched both arms toward the leaden sky and clenched his fists. Rubio might question his sincerity, but I could not. “And to defend, we must be able. We must be ready. We must be strong!”

Hopeful murmurs again.

“So, tonight’s mission will be a drill. You will not engage. You will . . .”

“Like Jenn said.” I was relieved.

“Ah well.” Rubio seemed as disappointed as the crews, maybe because Rousseau had done something he actually agreed with. Smart, not to shut their anger down completely. Even a drill would blow off some steam.

“No point in a fleet of canoes going up against a speedboat,” I said.

“Or whatever else they might run into.” Rubio coughed, spat over the rail. We pushed off and moved along uptown. “I heard he was a priest before.”

“He. You mean, Rousseau? C’mon!”