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a bad guy, which is why Gus ignored his angry wife and called me immediately, and why I decided to give her another chance.

Gus barely contained the panic in his voice, his words falling fast and jumbled.
    â€œShe's terrified, she doesn't know what to do.” He was almost panting down the phone he was so breathless. “Dom, shit, you have to help.”
    Fear can be contagious, I know that and have seen it, but I am immune. My fear response is almost nonexistent. If someone close to me is in danger, or even if I am, it's as stressful as a game of chess. My chief response to Gus gabbling down the phone like a rooster with his arse feather plucked was impatience.
    â€œJust call the police,” I said. “What else does she expect you to do?”
    â€œShe said something about having drugs, being there to rescue her brother and so no cops. I think I'm going out there.”
    â€œGood plan. But first, check with your wife that it's okay for you to go out and rescue a super-sexy woman who you have a massive crush on, and who's covered in bags of heroin while holding a gun on someone. If she says you can go, I'll join you.”
    Gus's voice hardened. “This is serious, Dom. She needs help.”
    â€œMaybe she does. But not ours. You're being ridiculous.” He was, of course. And the tickle of interest I felt was equally idiotic. But I couldn't help feeling that way—it was a part of me just like the other bricks that built the wall between me and everyone else. It was the part of me that I fought and repressed the most, actually. AndI knew that, like magma beneath the earth's crust, it bubbled ferociously hot, looking for a crack that would allow it to burst free and scorch everything in its way. “Impulsivity”: number fourteen on the checklist, and two more points for me.
    Gus wouldn't give up. “You're in law enforcement, aren't you obliged to help?”
    â€œI'm a lawyer, Gus. I file motions and show up to court with polished shoes. Boots, to be precise. I don't have tactical training and I don't wear a cape under my suit. In fact, as I see it, my only obligation is to call the police.”
    â€œAnd a nice girl gets arrested for trying to save her brother.”
    â€œHow do you know she's a nice girl? She's pointing a gun at someone.” A moment of silence echoed through the phone, and, given Gus's panic, I knew he wasn't telling me something. “Gus, what the fuck is going on?”
    â€œShe is a nice girl.” He'd lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. “We've talked on the phone a couple of times. She told me about her family. Her dad is in prison and has been since she was a baby. Her mother is a drug user, and she's raising her brother by herself. So yeah, Dom, she's a nice person who's living in a shitty situation, one where the involvement of the police won't help.”
    I gritted my teeth and felt a growl in my throat, low and primal. Gus was an idiot, a goat tied to a stake in the ground, waiting to be devoured. Worse, he'd tied himself to the stake. She wasn't a nice girl, she was toying with him to get to me. She was letting Gus think that he'd won her over, and she wanted me to know it. The problem was, if I didn't play along right now, then I'd lose for sure. Not that Gus would ever have her, no, either she'd cut him loose or his moral compass would flicker straight and true. But I'd lose and I didn't like to lose, especially not to a demure, unexciting, married man.
    â€œFuck it,” I said. “Give me the address.”

    The east side of Austin used to be where all the rookie cops wanted to work, the sector known as Charlie where the gung-ho boys in blue were guaranteed nightly encounters with drug dealers and gangbangers. In the rundown shopping centers and broken parking lots, there was the promise of nabbing a local politician getting his knob polished by a crack whore. I'd done ride-alongs in Charlie and had seen for myself the