If Porky had had an ounce of sense he would have run. Instead he charged. Jack sidestepped at the last second, drove his fist into the flabby belly—a solid solar plexus shot—doubling him over. And still Porky wouldn’t quit. Even bent almost in half, he tried to grapple Jack’s waist. Jack didn’t have time to dance; he had to get to Gia. He clubbed the guy on the ear, grabbed him by the back of his coat collar and the back of his belt, and gave him the bum’s rush toward the end of the landing. At the last second, Jack lifted him and sent him sailing in the flight he’d intended for Vicky. Screaming and kicking and windmilling his arms, Porky hit the granite hard and kept going, rolling and tumbling the rest of the way down.

Jack didn’t wait to see him land. Turned and ran back to Gia and her attacker.

“C’mon, babe,” this guy was saying as he pawed Gia. “Stop fighting it. You know you want it.”

As Jack arrived he spotted a similar crest on this one’s blazer. That was about all he had time to notice before the guy slapped Gia across the face.

Something detonated within Jack then and things got fuzzy. Vision constricted to a short, narrow tunnel, sound warped to a muddled roar, and he was grabbing the guy by his blow-dried hair, ripping him off Gia, and slamming his face into the base of the stone columns. Once, twice, and more, until the meaty crunches became wet slaps. Then he threw him against the museum’s front wall. As he repeatedly body slammed the man into the granite blocks, Jack became aware of a voice… Gia’s… shouting his name. He released the guy and turned toward the sound.

Gia stood below, on the next landing, clutching her hysterical daughter in her arms. Saying something about getting out of here.

Jack shut his eyes, forced a deep slow breath. Sounds filtered back, rising in volume. Gia’s voice, loud and clear.

“Jack, please! Let’s go!”

Sirens rose in the distance. Yes… definitely time to go—

But as Jack stepped toward Gia and Vicky, he saw alarm widen their eyes. That prepared him for the slam against his back and the arms wrapping around his throat in a stranglehold. The impact knocked him off the top step. Locked together, he and his attacker were pitching forward toward a granite-hard landing. Jack twisted in the air, wrenching the heavier weight of his attacker around to position the other beneath him. The hoarse voice raging incoherently in his ear cut off abruptly when they hit the steps. The other guy had taken the full impact on his back, cushioning Jack.

Jack rolled off and was shocked to see that it was the same guy he’d pulled off Gia and battered against the wall. His face was a bloody mess and he shouldn’t have been able to stand, let alone attack. Wasn’t standing now—lay sprawled on his back, gasping for air. Had to have at least half a dozen broken ribs. But then he groaned, tried to roll over, and for one incredulous second Jack thought he was going to get up and come at him again. But then he slumped and lay still. Guy was a hell of a lot tougher than he looked, but not that tough.