The other assailant sucks in a breath and shifts his gaze to Jonas. “What’s the other ending?”
“You return what you stole from us. Before we leave, I’ll show you how to stem your friend’s bleeding.”
“And then?”
“And then you hit the emergency call icon on your phone, you halfwit!” Jonas points at the injured man. “Your buddy might pull through if the ambulance gets here quickly. And if he does survive, the pair of you will kneel and swear to whatever God, Satan, or alien overlord you worship that you’ll become honest men.”
“Do it,” the prone man grunts.
His associate nods to Jonas who nods to Peter and me. We recover our belongings while my would-be rapist calls an ambulance for his accomplice. Meanwhile, Jonas grabs the muggers’ backpack, tucks it under the wounded man’s leg, and wraps his scarf snugly over the wound.
“Press the heel of your hand here and hold,” he says to the mugger who squats down next to him. “You’ll be pushing the femoral artery against bone, understand?”
The mugger nods. “Like this?”
Once Jonas is satisfied that sufficient pressure is being applied to the correct point in the groin, he stands up.
“Let’s go,” he says to Peter and me.
We run out of the unlit stretch as fast as our legs can carry us. When we’re back in the safety of the well-lit and still-animated Bloomsbury, we slow down to catch our breath.
I glance at Peter. He looks too shaken to speak. His adrenaline must be crashing after it gave him the courage to stand up to our attackers.
That was what he did, right?He didn’t run away when they gave him a chance. He stayed and threatened them.
Jonas doesn’t appear to be in as much shock as Peter. He checks his watch, eyebrows drawn.
To cope with my own distress, I feel the need to talk and voice my gratitude. “Thank you both for what you did there! Jonas, you’ve got some skills! Where did you learn to do that?”
“During my military service.”
“Does Monaco have mandatory military service? Does it even have an army?” Asking these questions calms my heartbeat and redirects my thoughts from the way things could’ve gone for me in that dark stretch.
“It wasn’t mandatory,” Jonas says. “And I didn’t do it in Monaco.”
“Then where? SAS? The French Foreign Legion?”
Instead of replying, he pulls out his phone. “It’s only eleven. Mrs. Everly will still be up. I’m going to ask her to brew that calming herbal tea of hers. We need a good night’s sleep.”
How very thoughtful of Mr. Macho Man!
He taps Call, muttering to himself, “I must be in top form this weekend.”
To each their coping mechanisms, I guess.
CHAPTER21
MARGOT
At breakfast, I receive endless shoulder taps, hand squeezes, and hugs. Peter told a bunch of people about our inauspicious encounter in Somers Town, and the news spreads like a wildfire.
When the expressions of sympathy taper off, he grabs his mug, and sits next to me. “Did Mrs. Everly’s tea work for you?”
“I dropped off the moment I lay down, and I slept until the alarm on my phone woke me up.”
He pulls a face. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
