Maximum Commitment (Sin City #13) - Tricia Owens Page 0,59

he quickly grabbed. Ethan yanked on the man’s extended arm while thrusting the heel of his own hand toward the man’s solar plexus. Ethan underestimated the man’s strength. The man stumbled forward, but not far enough to make contact with Ethan’s hand. He twisted his arm in Ethan’s grasp, reversing the grip so he held Ethan’s forearm, and threw his hip out, tilting Ethan off balance. Ethan’s feet left the ground as the man attempted to throw him over his shoulder. At the last second Ethan shifted his center of gravity and rolled off the other man’s back to land on the ground on one knee.

“I don’t have a gun!” the man shouted as he took off running. “I’m unarmed!” He sprinted toward the back of the garage. Where Theo hid.

Ethan jumped to his feet, but he knew he’d be too late to tackle the man before he reached Theo.

“Theo, run!” he shouted.

But fear was Theo’s enemy, too. He cowered between the cars, too terrified to save himself. The man from the airport yelled something incoherent as he barreled toward him.

Max burst from behind a pillar and struck the running man, lifting him off his feet. Both men landed hard on the hood of a nearby Corvette, setting off the car’s alarm and flashing headlights. As they struggled atop the hood, a shard of silver caught the light.

Ethan jerked his gun out of his holster and fired twice, striking the man in the shoulder and chest. The assailant spun off into the darkness between the cars, the bloodied knife he’d wielded clattering to the pavement.

“Max,” Ethan gasped, praying for the best. But in his heart, he was aware of the brutal truth: a bulletproof vest provided no protection against a blade.

Chapter Ten

Ethan rubbed at his forehead. “Yes, you shouldn’t worry. Several months ago, we filed all the forms to make each other our attorney-in-fact for healthcare decisions. We each have power of attorney, too. Anything that Max needs, I have the ability to get it for him.”

He listened to his mother express her relief and then her concerns again, which he appreciated but couldn’t focus on. His thoughts were with Max, who’d been wheeled into surgery what seemed days ago. Ethan was having trouble keeping track of time.

Sitting in one of the family waiting rooms of University Medical Center was something he’d hoped to avoid forever. Despite his and Max’s relatively dangerous occupations, they excelled at deterrence. Avoiding injury was their primary goal when protecting a client.

For the hundredth time since the incident at the parking garage, Ethan asked himself what he could have done differently.

Obviously, he should have restrained Loren’s uncle better from the get-go. But Ethan had been caught off-guard by the man’s quick actions and strength. Maybe Ethan could have been more aggressive at first approach, but he’d given the other man the benefit of the doubt since he hadn’t had any proof that the man was violent. It had turned out to be an error, but being physically aggressive with an innocent person would have been a mistake, too.

He flexed his free hand and studied his trigger finger. If he’d shot sooner, Max could have avoided being stabbed. But until that knife had been revealed, Ethan had unable to use deadly force to defend them. He understood, logically, that he’d acted as soon as he could have. But that understanding did nothing to relieve his guilt at being too late to prevent Max from being harmed.

“—Ethan, yes?”

He blinked rapidly. “Sorry, could you repeat that, Mom? I zoned out for a moment.”

“Ah, honey. You need some rest. You’re under too much stress.”

“I can rest later. I need to be here for Max.”

“Yes, I know, honey. But you also want to be clear-headed for him, too. Is there anyone there with you?”

“A couple of the agents stopped by but I told them it’s better if they all wait until Max is out of surgery and ready to take visitors. There’s no point in any of them being here.”

“They could keep you company.”

He smiled wanly. “I’m fine, Mom. Max has endured way worse for me in the past.”

“It’s not a competition about who can suffer more,” she reminded him gently. “Maxmillian wouldn’t want you to be stressed. I think you know that.”

“I do.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “It shouldn’t be long now, Mom. I’ll be okay. If for some reason they think it’ll take longer, I’ll rest up a bit. But I’m really okay. I just