between Ziggy’s legs and twisted around and down in an ugly manner. Ziggy pulled the hand inward and upward, making the guy’s full weight all hang from the back of his wrist. He screamed.
Ziggy nodded and relaxed his grip. “Sit,” he growled. “And if you ever want to use this wrist again in your lifetime, do not move so much as an inch.”
The man just moaned, curling on himself, his free hand trying to reach down to his damaged balls. It was over. Holy cow.
Meanwhile, I felt cold and weird for some reason. My heart hammered inside my chest and my knees turned to water. From the violence, maybe? Whatever. I didn’t have time for this. I had to do something to help. Paparazzi over at the gates shouted out questions and pushed and strained to get the best shot, but we all just ignored them. The whole situation seemed surreal. Like something out of a bad movie.
“Mae,” said Ziggy, looking up at me from his weird position atop the stalker. He actually looked weirdly relaxed, like he could sit there all day like that. “You did good, figuring it out. It’s okay now. Situation’s under control. Can you hear me?”
“Ah. Y-yes.”
“I need you.”
“You do? All right. What do I do?”
“You have to make some phone calls, okay? Can you do that for me, please, while I keep an eye on this piece of shit?”
“Sure.” I set my handbag on the ground, kneeling beside it. So much stuff. But my cell was definitely in here somewhere. “Right.”
Ziggy scowled. He took one hand off the wrist lock he had the guy in, and wiped it on his jacket in annoyance. It was slick with blood. Dripping with it. No sooner had he wiped his fingers off than thick red streams of blood coursed back down it.
My jaw fell open. “You’re bleeding. He cut you.”
“First rule of a knife fight. Someone’s gonna bleed.” Resigning himself to the fact that the hand wasn’t going to miraculously stop with the blood, he raised the arm up and pinned it between his neck and shoulder. Compression and elevation, I guess. His gaze returned to the moaning man beneath him. “I’m fine. Find your cell. Knowing your bag, if you start looking now it should only take an hour or two.”
“That’s not funny,” I snapped. “I’ll call an ambulance after I make whatever call you want me to make. The police first, right?”
“Police first. And I don’t need an ambulance. I can get myself to the hospital once this is dealt with.”
I pulled the cell out my handbag, bringing up Detective Ortega’s number. “Detective? This is Miss Mae Cooper. We were just attacked by a man with a knife. I think he’s the person who’s been sending the boxes, and Ziggy, my bodyguard, has him detained. Let me give you the address.”
“Good work,” said Ziggy once I finished the call. “Now I need you to call Sam, tell him we have a situation and need backup. Give him the address. Okay, Miss Cooper?”
“Got it.” I repeated the process, giving Sam the details and address. Ziggy kept his gaze moving between the guy on the ground and our general surroundings the whole time. “Sam is on his way.”
“Excellent. Good job.”
“You’re the one who did all the work.”
“I wouldn’t say that. Actually, I think we make a good team.”
My smile was a weak tremulous thing.
“Now I want you to get in the vehicle, lock the doors, and remain in there until we’ve got more people on scene, okay?”
“No.” I picked up my handbag and got back onto my feet. Though I retrieved a silk scarf out of it first. “Let me see the cut.”
“Stay back please.” Ziggy gave me his best I’m-very-serious-about-this eyes. “Do not come any closer.”
“Give me your arm.”
“Mae, it’s not that bad and I need you safe. Don’t worry about it.”
“Blood is dripping off your fingers. Stop playing the tough guy and let me stop the bleeding before your arm falls off or something.”
He just looked at me.
“I’m not going anywhere until you let me see it.”
With a sigh, he held out the damaged limb. The knife had slashed through the suit and shirt, the cut a good hand’s length at least. Whoa. Lots of blood. I wrapped the scarf around the wound, firmly but not too firm. At any rate, it seemed to be about the right amount of pressure to slow down the flow of red stuff. It’d been a number of years