CHAPTER NINE
At the sound of the warning, Riley Stuart dove to the side as the bolt launched into the air where he had just stood. Rolling to his feet, short-blaster already in hand, Riley shot his antagonist squarely in the chest.
Replacing the blaster in its holster, he turned to face his unknown benefactor.
The man had light brown hair and stood a few inches taller than Riley's five foot eight. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. He wore white sneakers, a pair of 501's, and a yellow polo shirt. Riley recognized him.
“Trying to make me feel bad?” he asked the man. “I take a shot at you, and you save my life?”
“I didn't really think about it.”
“Then I'm glad you're impulsive. You don’t really look like a terrorist spy. Name's Riley Stuart,” he said, holding out his hand. “What's yo
