“Goddamn city isn’t safe even for rugrats.” He studied them. “Which one of you attacked the asshole?”

Holding his aching jaw, Gabe forced out the answer. “Me.”

“Me.” “Me.” “Yo.” Four kids; four answers.

Gabe braced himself to be hauled away. The others were doing the same.

Instead, the guy’s mouth curved into an approving smile. “You boys got guts. And already made yourselves into a team.”

Phillip leaned toward the bedstand, fumbling for the phone. “You hit me with a god-damned bat. They’ll lock you little bastards up forever.”

Lock us up? Fear chilled Gabe’s skin. His knees wobbled.

The stranger’s gaze went icy. He took two steps, slammed his huge fist into Phillip’s jaw, and knocked the jerk out cold.

Turning, the big man put his hands on his hips and looked them over.

Shakily, Gabe braced his legs and stared up. Why’d he do that? What did he want?

With relief, Gabe felt Kana’s shoulder rub his on the left. Miguel moved to stand on Derek’s other side.

The man nodded, like he was pleased or something. “Name’s Mako. I’ve been next door, visiting an old buddy. He said this here is a foster home?”

That was a safe enough question. Gabe nodded.

Mako glanced at Phillip. “Is the pervert your father or uncle?”

“Uh-uh.”

Mako frowned. “How about the rest of you? He a relative?”

The three shook their heads.

“Guess that’s good. Do any of you got family around here?”

“No,” Miguel muttered while Derek and Gabe shook their heads.

Kana snorted. “If we did, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, guess not.” The man’s face tightened. “When the asshole wakes up, sounds like you’re going to be in trouble. True?”

Gabe blinked back tears because it was true. No one believed what kids said—not if a grownup said different. If Phillip told the social worker that the foster kids ganged up on him or tried to steal something—jeez, he could say anything—then they’d get dumped into a group home.

Gabe’d heard awful stories about those places. Got to leave before Phillip wakes up. He eyed the door and then realized Mako’s gaze had followed his.

“You’ll run.” The man’s eyes narrowed.

No one answered.

“The streets are no place for kids,” he muttered. “An’ if shit hits the fan, y’all will be like ducklings in a lake of hungry bass.”

Miguel made a worried sound. He was the youngest and really nice.

Saying stuff to scare kids wasn’t right.

Gabe tried to stand taller. “You shouldn’t try to scare us.” When the ice-cold gaze came to rest on him, he almost fled right then. Instead, he forced out the words. “We don’t have any choice, mister.”

“It’s Mako, kid, or Sarge works.” The man ran his fingers through his hair and scowled. “This’s fucked up.”