Chapter 5

“I suppose with a name like Justice, you were either going to be a cop, a lawyer, or a superhero, huh?”

He had sweaty palms. Then again, at eighty-five degrees with ninety percent humidity, there wasn’t a spot on my body not sweating.

“Flunk out of law school? Rip your tights?”

Three eavesdroppers “Oohed” and snickered.

“Lawyers get criminals off,” I told the guy with two last names and no first. “Cops put them away.” I met Ames Preston eye to eye, my brown to big, baby blues that reminded me of Chinese Checkers marbles I’d played with as a kid. “And you know what? We are superheroes to a lot of people.”

“You got a point there,” Preston said.