What the hell? He forgot to swallow and just sat there with a glob of food in his mouth. The driver, a dark-haired kid with a jock’s muscular build, leaped out and grabbed the blonde by both arms. One of the boys in the back pushed the driver’s seat forward and leaned halfway out of the car. The jock jerked the girl toward his waiting friend. Watching on, Kennedy realized that they were going to force her inside the vehicle. Crazy. What were they thinking? If they succeeded in nabbing her, they’d be in more trouble than they could imagine.

The boys were about the girl’s age, but the jock had a definite physical advantage over her. Kennedy tried to look away rather than interfere. Trouble between local-yokel kids was none of his business. But the driver was determined to get the waitress into the car, and she couldn’t resist while wearing roller skates. When he pulled on her arms, her body followed, even though she tried to put on the brakes by twisting her feet sideways. It was all she could do to remain upright.

All four boys were now out of the car. They started pushing the girl back and forth between them, grabbing her in inappropriate places when they caught her and then shoving her over to the next guy so he could cop a feel. The girl began screaming, and the jock popped her on the mouth. A chill washed over Kennedy. He glanced toward the building, hoping to see someone race outside. Surely the owner had outdoor camera surveillance so the young waitresses weren’t entirely on their own out here. But nobody emerged from the burger shack to intervene.

“Shit.” Kennedy pushed open his door, which sent his Coke flying. He couldn’t just sit in his truck while a girl was overpowered by four young men. As his boots connected with the asphalt, Kennedy shouted, “Hey, guys! Let’s keep it friendly. Okay? Let the girl go!”

The jock spun around to glare at Kennedy. “You and whose army is gonna make us, jackass? You need to mind your own fucking business!”

One look at the terrified girl told Kennedy that he couldn’t turn his back on this. The last thing he wanted was to get in a fracas with minors. Now that he was twenty-two, he could go to jail for that. For all he knew, striking a kid could be a felony, and if the charges stuck, he might never be able to work for the state. Doesn’t matter. Nobody else was rushing from the building to help the girl, so it fell to him to do something.

He walked toward the Chevy. “I don’t want any trouble, guys.”

“Then back off,” the jock demanded.

The smell of alcohol and weed wafted to Kennedy’s nostrils. Just great. These boys were hammered and probably had the collective genius of a fruit fly. Kennedy really, really didn’t want this to escalate into a fistfight. He pulled out his cell and dialed 911. When the dispatcher answered, he said loudly enough for the boys to hear, “Four male youths are accosting a teenage girl at the hamburger joint, and—”