Gabriel turned. That was the problem with a voice from nowhere, telling you not to move--reacting to the surprise, one naturally moves. A man lunged at him, a blade flashing. Gabriel backed up fast, his hands out.
"I'm unarmed," he said.
The man waved the knife, which would have been far more threatening if he'd looked as if he had the faintest clue how to use it. No, strike that. In Gabriel's experience, those who didn't know how to use a weapon posed an even greater danger--that of harming someone unintentionally. What mattered was that the blade appeared clean, as did the man's clothing, meaning he had not used that knife on Olivia.
"I'm unarmed," Gabriel repeated. "However, I am not alone, Mr. Johnson."
The man tensed, confirming Gabriel was correct in his guess. Johnson inched forward, knife raised.
"I know who you are, too, Gabriel Walsh," he said. "A lawyer. A defense lawyer."
He spit the words the way one might say "serial killer." No, having defended serial killers, Gabriel knew people voiced that term with far less venom.
"You're her lawyer," Johnson continued. "That murderess, Heather Nansen."
"The term is 'murderer,' and has been since the time of Lizzie Borden, but in this case, I believe you are also missing the adjective 'alleged.'"
"Lawyers." Johnson sneered. "So it was you, wasn't it? You sent that text from her phone."
"Ah."
"Ah?"
It was apparently the wrong response. Johnson lunged, and Gabriel attempted to dodge, but he was really too big for dodging, and the knife caught his sleeve, slicing through a very expensive jacket and shirt. Skin, too, given the stab of pain, but his arm would mend. Gabriel swung up, attempting to disarm Johnson, and--to his chagrin--failing.
So Gabriel charged, barreling into Johnson, who evidently did not expect to be attacked by an unarmed man. Johnson let out a yelp. He also swung the knife, the tip of it scraping Gabriel's jaw.
Gabriel punched Johnson. The smaller man flew backward but kept his balance, raising the knife as he ran at Gabriel.
"And that's enough of that," a voice said.
Twenty-six
Gabriel
Gabriel dodged the charge and swung around to see Olivia holding her gun on Johnson.
"It's like rock, paper, scissors," she said. "Except in a game of fist, knife, gun, the gun always wins. Stop right there, Keith."
Johnson peered at her. "You...you're..."
"The dumb chick who wanted to trade in a Shelby Cobra for an Audi? Well, duh. No one's that stupid."
Johnson snarled and lunged at Gabriel.
Olivia fired a warning shot over Johnson's shoulder. "Did I say enough? You've already ruined one of his jackets." She glanced at Gabriel. "Which is the price he pays for ignoring my instructions."
"I know you're upset about what Rose said, and you don't want to have anything to do with me right now, but I sensed you were in danger."
Her brows shot up. "You thought I was refusing backup because I'm pissy?"
"Not...exactly."
She shook her head. "I said no for exactly this reason." She waved at the two of them. "Because I had things under control, and bringing you in seemed more likely to end up exactly the way it did, you barging onto my stage after I so carefully set--"
Johnson spun, slashing the knife at Gabriel, who dodged while Olivia leapt forward, gun pointed at Johnson's head.
"Yeah, sorry," she said. "Just because we're bickering doesn't mean we aren't paying attention."