Gemma stepped up to Jethro’s side, a snub nose in her hand that she pointed at Blue, who gasped and tightened his hold on his gun.
Shock took Jethro for a second and then he moved. The woman had a bloody gun? “Whoa. Wait a sec. Everyone chill.” He placed a hand on Gemma’s gun and gently pushed down, ready to leap in front of her if Blue squeezed the trigger of his gun. The moment her weapon was pointed down, he edged her behind him again.
Apparently he had no choice here. He held out the wallet to Blue, and when the idiot tried to take it,Jethro struck.
* * * *
Gemma’s hand shook around the cold metal as Jethro put her behind him again, his solid body forming a bulwark between her body and the threat. Maybe gun to gun wasn’t a good idea, but now hewasn’t covered.
Then he moved.
Fast.
One second he was in front of her and the next he had the other guy’s gun in his hand, striking fast and hard. The guy with the blue mask fought back wildly, and Jethro countered each punch almost methodically, striking painful-looking blows, often with the butt of the attacker’s own gun. Finally Jethro punched the man in the neck, and he went down to the ground, out cold.
Jethro turned toward the other two, who’d frozen in place. He cocked his head and stuck the gun in his pocket. Snow fell onto his dark blond hair, and his usually warm eyes held cold warning. He rolled his shoulder and just watched the other two men as if he had all the time in the world. His chest was wide, his stance set, and his body deadly.
“Jethro?” Gemma whispered. Why had he put the gun away? Where had he learned to fight like that?Whofought like that? How did he seem so…calm?
The guy with the knife smiled and charged.
Gemma screamed.
Jethro turned at the last second, grasped the man’s wrist, and twisted. The knife clattered harmlessly across the ice. Then Jethro pulled, and something snapped. Loudly. The guy cried out and tried to pull away, but Jethro held him by the broken arm, staring impassively at the wounded attacker.
The guy sniffed and then punched out withhis other hand.
Jethro caught the guy’s fist in his palm andtwisted again.
The wrist broke. Gemma gagged, backing away. How could such violence be so calm?
The man fell to the ground, shrieking and clutching his broken arm. Jethro kicked him right in the face, and his head bounced twice before settling, his eyes closed.
The last man standing, the one with the red mask, shook out his hands. He looked at his unconscious buddies and then lowered his head and charged, ramming Jethro with a strong tackle right in the gut. They smashed onto the ice, skidding to the center of the parking lot, Jethro beneath him. They came to a stop, and for a second nobody moved.
The attacker levered himself up, fist raised.
Jethro almost causally threw out his arm, blocking the punch. Then he wrapped both legs around the man, scooted him down, and pressed his legs hard against his neck. “Go limp,” he suggested.
The other man flopped like a fish, struggling and grunting with the effort. Jethro kept him in place.
His air gone, the other man had no choicebut to go lax.
Jethro loosened the hold of his legs and pushed the man off him before gracefully rolling up to his feet. He walked toward her and straightened his clothing, brushing ice off his jacket. He looked like he’d just gone for a peaceful stroll through a park. There wasn’t abruise on him.
Gemma’s mouth gaped open and she looked at the three unconscious men on the ground. She was too stunned to move. Her brain wouldn’t process the intense and yet oddly peaceful violence. How could violence be peaceful? The saliva in her mouth dried up and her throat ached.
“Are you all right?” Jethro asked, halting several feetaway from her.
She had the strongest urge to point her gun at him. “What just happened?” she croaked.
His brow furrowed. “I’m not certain. Please go back inside the restaurant while I call the authorities.”
How could he act so normal after he’d just kicked the crap out of three armed men without breaking a sweat? There was no doubt he could’ve killed all three had he so chosen. Who was this man? She stepped back, her hand shaking so wildly on the gun that she had no choice but to drop the weapon back into her purse. She glanced at her watch. “I–I have to get Trudy.” She couldn’t be late to pick up her daughter. Trudy should never be scared.
Jethro sighed and looked around, as if not quite sure what to do. “All right.” He reached in his pocket and drew out his car keys. “Take my vehicle and drive directly to the day care—it’s just around the corner. Please park my car right next to yours and leave my keys under the seat. Also, be very careful driving home. I take it you’re staying at Serena’s?”
Numbly, she nodded.
