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He swiped at me ferociously, the blade whizzing past my ear on numerous occasions. I managed to duck out of the way. This wasn’t a fair fight at all. I was too distracted with the fact that Vivian was still struggling in the arms of her captor, failing to free herself from his knuckle-white grasp.
“Vivian!” I shouted out to her.
I knew it was a mistake to get distracted the second my attacker swiped at me. His blade sliced past my upper right arm, the sting excruciatingly deep. The smell of rust and salt filled my nose. Red soaked into the fabric of my jacket, streams of it trickling down the length of my arm and dripping from my fingers.
I avoided taking another slice but received a kick to the inside of my knee instead. My legs buckled out from under me. My assailant swung his closed fist, knuckles connecting with my jaw. My skull vibrated. Everything hurt. I was seeing double.
“Jesse!” Vivian screeched.
The man trying to drag her away made the mistake of clasping his hand over her mouth. She opened wide and chomped down with all her might. He yelped in agony and recoiled, giving her just enough space to punch him square in the nose. He fell back and hit his head on the curb. Out cold.
She ran to me but couldn’t get past the knife-wielder. He glared at her, murderous intent in his eyes.
“You stupid bitch,” he hissed. “You and that redhead pain in the ass are going to pay.”
“Redhead?” Vivian panted. “You mean Molly? She’s alive?”
“Not for much longer. Not if I have anything to say about—”
I lunged at him, batting the knife out of his hand and trapping him in a chokehold. I squeezed with all my might, counting the seconds until he was perfectly still. He wasn’t dead. Unfortunately. But at least he was no longer a threat.
Vivian ran to me, inspecting my arm. “Oh my God, Jesse. You’re bleeding.”
“It’s fine.”
“Fine? How is this fine? We need to get you to a hospital.”
“No. You’re coming with me back to the safehouse.”
“Look, I know you’re mad at me, but you really need to see a doctor.”
“I’m not mad, Vivian.” I stared her down, barely able to keep my voice level. “What I am is really. Fucking. Disappointed.”
“Jesse, I—”
“Stop. Talking.”
I looked her over. Apart from the emotional and mental trauma of almost being kidnapped —again— she seemed alright physically. Still, Vivian was on the brink of tears, the rims of her eyes red and whites glossy. Any other day, I would have scooped her up and kissed her until she felt better. But this was different.
“What you did was stupid,” I said, reaching into my pocket for my phone. I called Devin, who answered in a hurry.
“Did you find her?”
“Yeah. I need you to send a car and a cleanup crew to my location. Have them deal with the cops when they get here. I’m taking Vivian back to the safehouse.”
“Send a car? What happened to yours?”
“Totaled it. Which reminds me, call the dealership. She’s going to need a new… everything. Copy?”
“Jesus. Yeah, copy that.”
I ended the call and shoved my phone back into my pocket, turning to check on Vivian. She was trembling, clutching something tightly in her hands. I was too angry to ask her about it. Instead, I covered my wound with my palm and applied pressure to staunch the flow of blood. I wasn’t going to lose the arm, but it still hurt like hell.
“We really should take you to the emergency room,” she said, voice so quiet and small I barely heard her over the gathering crowd. Some of them were taking pictures. Not good.
I shrugged off my jacket and draped it over her head, pulling her close to my chest. I still had a job to do, and that was making sure my client was secure. I couldn’t risk anyone getting a good look at Vivian. There was no telling who was watching. It was highly likely the cartel had members nearby, keeping a finger on the pulse. She was exposed out here, a lamb with a target on her back.
Her wellbeing came before mine.
