"What the hell are you doing?" Brett broke free, lurched to his feet, and tackled Gideon into the side of a bus.
Gideon linked his hands and hammered Brett's back like a club, forcing Brett to lurch away.
Pressing the advantage, Gideon lashed out with a roundhouse kick and followed with a lightning-quick jab to the gut.
Brett swung, his powerful biceps bunching with his fist, but Gideon ducked fluidly and retaliated with an uppercut that snapped Brett's head back.
Jesus.
Gideon didn't make a sound, not when he struck out and not when Brett landed a direct hit to his jaw.
The quiet intensity of his fury was chilling.
I could feel the rage pumping off him, saw it in his eyes, but he remained controlled and eerily methodical.
He'd disconnected in some way, retreated to a place where he could objectively observe his body doing serious damage to someone else.
I'd caused that.
I had turned the warm, wickedly playful man who'd enchanted me all evening into the cold, murderous fighter in front of me.
"Miss Tramell."
Angus grabbed my elbow.
I looked at him desperately.
"You have to stop him."
"Please, return to the limousine."
"What?" I looked over and saw blood dripping from Brett's nose.
No one was intervening.
"Are you crazy?" "We need to take Miss Ellison home.
She's your guest; you need to see to her."
Brett swung and when Gideon feinted to the side, Brett rammed his other fist forward, nailing Gideon in the shoulder and sending him backward a few steps.
I grabbed Angus by the arms.
"What's the matter with you?! Stop them!" His pale blue eyes softened.
"He knows when to stop, Eva."
"Are you shitting me?!" He looked over my shoulder.
"Mr.
Ricci, if you would, please."
The next thing I knew, I was slung over Arnoldo's shoulder and en route to the limo.
Lifting my head, I saw the circle of bystanders close in with my absence, blocking my view.
I screamed my frustration and pounded at Arnoldo's back, but it didn't faze him.