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The five of them turn back to the deposition, but before the lawyer can repeat his asinine question, a deafening crunch comes from outside.
Julia’s head whips up, her alarmed eyes meeting mine.
“What the hell?” one of the lawyers mutters under his breath as he stands.
Holding out a hand and motioning Julia to stay back, I cross the room, looking out the fifth-story window to the courtyard below. Smoke floats by the wide windows, swirling in the breeze. A familiar red BMW is in the hedges, the front end crumpled against one of the decorative boulders.
“Y’all might want to stop giving Ms. Donovan a hard time. Your doctor just drove into the courtyard. At speed.” I say, pointing out the window at the man stumbling from the wreckage of the car. Even from up here, I can see the blood trickling down his forehead.
The four lawyers and Julia rush toward the window, but I catch Julia, pulling her back away from the glass as the man down below heads toward the front doors of the building, weaving toward the decorative fountain. I see a glint of metal in his hands and a flood of adrenaline pours into my veins.
“Call security,” I bark at the lawyers. They stare at me dumbfounded, frozen to the spot. “Now!”
Handing Julia my phone, I push her backward through the room to a supply closet.
“Mateo, what are you—”
“Get down and call 911.” I tell her as I push her into the closet and shut the door. There’s a key in the handle. I turn it, locking the door, and pocketing the key.
“This is overkill, asshole,” she yells, banging on the inside of the heavy wood door.
“Yep. Love you, babe,” I say before bolting from the room, leaving the bewildered lawyers in my wake. I head straight for the stairs, sprinting down the five flights at break-neck pace. From above, Grimaldi looked injured and possibly drunk. Either way, he certainly wasn’t moving at top speed. If I’m fast enough, I can head him off in the lobby.
I hit the ground floor landing and slam on the brakes, peeking through the small window of the door that looks out into the lobby. I breathe a sigh of relief when I spot the asshorn fumbling with the elevator buttons, his back to me. He’s weaving on his feet and I can’t spot a weapon, but my angle sucks.
I push the handle down silently, opening the door wide behind me. I keep my back to the wall and stay out of sight as I try to get a better view of his right hand. But then the elevator door opens and I’m out of time. I can’t lose him here.
I charge at him and the stairwell door hasn’t even shut behind me when I hit him, tackling the stumpy man to the elevator floor. A knife skitters out of his hand, sliding across the elevator floor and just out of his reach. He throws an elbow, connecting with my face, but I’m so pumped up on adrenaline that I barely register it.
I wrestle his arms behind his back, effectively squashing his face into the carpet as I get a good grip on him. He squeals like an angry pig, thrashing under me, but he’s done. There’s no way he’s getting out of my hold. Glancing at the knife, an angry shudder runs through my body.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter under my breath.
The elevator door tries to shut on his legs, getting close and bouncing back when the sensors see him. I don’t have cuffs or zip ties, but I can hear sirens in the distance as he struggles underneath me, so I’m guessing Julia called 911 like I told her to. Building security is still MIA, so I just sit on the doctor, keeping his hands secure while we wait for the cops to show up.
“Get off me, asshole,” he slurs, bucking uselessly underneath me. I can smell the booze evaporating out of his pores and it’s an honest-to-God challenge keeping my breakfast down when his breath hits me.
“No thanks, douche nozzle. You and I are going to sit here until the police catch up.”
“Fucking bitch ruined my life,” he mutters.
I pull his arms higher, making it hurt just a little. Considering that he’s talking about the woman I love, I’m feeling rather proud of my restraint. It would beso easyto break his arms.
He keeps flopping but really, even if he were sober he wouldn’t stand a chance. The elevator door tries to shut again, and an alarm sounds overhead.
“Well, that’s fun,” I mutter.
A minute later, I hear footsteps running our direction, echoing through the lobby behind me.
“Over here,” I call out, just in case the alarm and the feet sticking out of the elevator doors aren’t a dead giveaway. “I’m private security.”
Looking over my shoulder, I see two officers behind me, guns drawn but pointed at the floor.
“It’s been fun, bud,” I say to Grimaldi before raising my voice. “He’s not cooperating. I’m happy for you boys to take over anytime.”
One officer steps into the elevator, kicking the knife into the corner. He cuffs Grimaldi, finally letting me back off. I wince as I get to my feet. I bashed my knee pretty good when I tackled him, and I can already feel it swelling. Julia’s going to be so pissed when she sees it.
The second officer is holding his position in the lobby, eyeing me warily with his baby face. “We need to get a statement,” he warns me.
