Page 67 of Under Arthur’s Protection

The corridor was empty. The receptionist glanced at us as we walked by the front desk. I nodded and smiled, but didn’t stop to sign out or return our passes.

It was late afternoon. Outside, the sky was gray, and the October air was cool. The parking lot was to the right, down a short path curving past the building’s edge. Ours was one of only half a dozen cars there. No one visible. The driveway ran directly from the lot to the street, maybe a hundred and fifty feet.

“Straight to the car, Gwen.” I fished the key fob from my pocket and pressed it. The SUV’s lights flashed. I steered her along the wall, keeping her between me and the stone so no one could come at her from behind. Twenty feet from the car. “I want you behind the driver’s seat.”

“Why can’t I sit in⁠—”

As we reached the corner, the man in the blue ballcap sprang out in front of us.

Fuck!

He closed the distance fast, angling to cut us off.

“Get to the car!” I pushed Gwen forward and turned to face him at the first row of cars.

He went for the sword case, not for me. Both hands on its solid frame, yanking on it.

I held on and pulled back.

He stumbled, but tried again. I caught his wrist and twisted. He yelped, his grip broke, and I shoved him backward onto the pavement.

“Help!” screamed Gwen, who was not running for the car. “Someone help!”

A second man came from behind a parked SUV. Younger, bigger, he drove his shoulder into my hip before I could get out of the way.

I slammed into the door of a hatchback hard enough to dent it. I brought the sword case up and cracked it across the side of his head.

Oh, fuck—the sword.

The padding inside was thick. It had to be fine. It had to be, because this asshole had a fistful of my jacket.

He wasn’t trained. Didn’t pin my arms or try to unbalance me. But he also went for the case.

I punched him in the side, and as he doubled over, I put a knee into his face.

He swore in French and dropped to the pavement.

“Arthur!” screeched Gwen from too close. “Watch out! He’s got a knife!”

I spun.

Blue Ballcap was back on his feet. He slashed at my right arm with a folding knife. The blade caught my forearm, slicing through my sleeve and into flesh.

A hot line of pain. “Fucking hell!”

“Put the knife away!” Another French voice joined in from somewhere behind me. Three of them? What was going on? “You’ll get someone killed!”

Blue Ballcap looked past me, toward the third man. Toward Gwen. Blue Ballcap feinted low and came high. I blocked with the case. The blade punched through the hard surface and stuck.

Thank fuck.

Blue Ballcap tried to pull it free, but I wrenched the case sideways, and the knife tore out of his grip, embedded in the case.

“Gwen, get into the car!” I backed up, keeping the case between the two attackers and me. I flipped it so the knife was on my side, where neither of them could reach it.

The bigger man stood, spat out blood, and began circling.

Fuck. They’d figured out a tactic. They were going to come at me together. Where was the third one? I pivoted and took a few more steps back to keep both of them in view, searching the car windows for Gwen’s reflection. When I found her, she was still safe. Not in the SUV, but safe. The big man got inside my guard and drove a fist into my ribs. The air left me. I doubled over, but when he grabbed for the case, I twisted and swung it into his knee.