He snatches his hand away as if she’s bitten him, and she breaks free.
She jabs her elbow into his chest, and then goes for her weapon, but he grabs her again, slamming her hand against the door until she drops the gun.
But she’s not giving up. She lunches forward, ramming her head into him.
Then I see the flash of metal and my heart, already pounding as I’m about to reach the walkway, nearly stops.
He strikes the back of her head, and she drops to her knees.
"Last warning," the voice hisses.
He starts to skulk away, but I’m there. I hit him like a freight train, tackling him away from Olivia.
We crash to the pavement, rolling.
My fist connects with his jaw, the impact jarring up my arm.
He twists, breaking my grip, and slams an elbow into my ribs. Pain explodes in my side, but I've been hurt worse.
I drive my knee up, catching him in the stomach. He grunts, momentarily winded.
I hear a thump and I turn to see Olivia has collapsed. The distraction costs me.
The attacker slashes with a knife, catching my forearm.
I hiss but manage to grab his wrist, slamming it against the ground until the blade clatters away.
He headbutts me, stars exploding behind my eyes. Then he's up, staggering backward, face obscured by the hood of his jacket.
He spits, then turns and sprints down the street.
I’m torn between pursuit and killing the mother fucker and checking on Olivia. She wins out.
I rush to her side. "Olivia, stay with me."
Blood trickles down my arm as I kneel beside Olivia. Her eyes flutter, unfocused, before rolling back. She goes limp.
"Olivia!" I press my fingers to her neck. Her pulse is there, steady but rapid.
A gash on her temple bleeds freely, and I can already see bruising forming where she hit the door.
She needs medical attention. I could call 9-11, but I can’t wait with her.
"Dammit," I mutter, scooping her into my arms. Pain shoots through my ribs where the attacker landed his blow, but I push through it. Olivia's head lolls against my shoulder.
I carry her to my car, scanning the street for any witnesses or returning threats. Nothing.
After settling Olivia in the passenger seat, I grab my phone and dial as I slide behind the wheel.
"It's me. Need you at the Canal Street property. Now." I hang up before Angelo can ask questions. Next call is to Dr. Moretti, La Corona’s off the books physician.
"Medical emergency. Two patients. Lacerations, possible concussion. Twenty minutes." I finish with the address and his confirmation that he’ll be there.
I drive carefully but quickly through the city, taking a circuitous route to ensure we're not followed.
Every few blocks, I glance at Olivia. Still unconscious, her face pale. Blood mats her hair.
"Should've listened to me," I tell her unconscious form. "Stubborn woman."
