Sasha pushed open the heavy door to the stairwell, thinking about her courtroom performance. Noah would have been proud of her. The client and the firm would be pleased by how she handled today’s hearing.
If she could convince VitaMight not to settle before Judge Cook wrote an opinion, she figured she might even deliver a dismissal. That would be a nice card to have in her pocket when the partnership vote came up.
The door swung closed behind her with a quiet thud.
She started down the stairs and two things happened.
One, heavy footsteps hurried down from the landing above her. And two, a big, young guy rounded the corner from the landing below at full speed.
She locked eyes with him and he yelled up the stairwell, “Gregor, it’s her!” The footsteps from above quickened.
She wasted a precious second berating herself. The fundamental rule of Krav Maga was to be ready, be aware of your surroundings. Walking around lost in thought invited an attack.
Then she began the calculations that were second nature. At least two of them. Not complete amateurs, because they had spread out to trap her between them. Not total pros, because the downstairs guy should have waited until she rounded the corner going down and ambushed her then.
Multiple attackers meant she was going to have to hurt the first guy badly enough to incapacitate him for a while. Unless she could get back to the door and the fourth floor hallway before they reached her.
She wheeled around and headed back to the door. The guy coming up from below made it to the landing before she got there.
He grabbed her from behind by her hair, pulling her back and down.
She let her briefcase drop from her right hand to the floor.
He’d be expecting her to pull forward, away from him. So, she arched her back, leaning into the backward momentum.
She turned and planted her left foot as a base, stopping the fall. As she swung around, she drove her right hand into his groin.
He doubled over and she grabbed his shoulder with both hands, pulling him forward and into two fast groin kicks.
His friend appeared in the stairs above. Another big guy, older. She searched his face. Didn’t recognize him.
No, her brain screamed at her. She’d seen them before. They were the guys from the lobby of her office building who’d been talking to the security guard when she’d walked by.
The young guy straighten up, panting, “Lady, just give me the files. I won’t hurt you. Irwin just wants his files back.”
Tim Warner’s bloodied, smashed-in face flashed in her mind.
“Go to hell.”
His fist shot out. She bobbed left, and he caught her off-center with a glancing blow to the right corner of her mouth. She felt her lip burst and tasted warm, metallic blood.
Sasha rolled with the momentum pushing her to the left and dropped her left elbow. She pulled back and drove the elbow into his chin.
His head bobbled back from the force and his mouth fell open. She thought she might have cracked his jaw from the way his mouth was hanging.
She smacked her left elbow into his chin again. Followed it with her strong side, her right elbow. Smashed it into his cheekbone. He howled.
Once more, she brought her elbow up, crashing into his shattered cheek. Then she grabbed him by the shoulders and kneed him hard in his groin, stomach, groin again.
He was bent forward, panting and cursing now. She dropped him and he crumpled to the floor. Didn’t move again.
His friend had reached the landing now and was lunging toward her, his eyes darting from her to the heap at her feet.
He grabbed her by the throat. She plucked at his wrists and pulled his hands loose.
Once she was free, she bent to pick up her briefcase. As she stood, the guy brought his hand up, swung from the side, and smacked her cheek hard, open handed. Her eyes watered from the sting.
He shuffled back a step, raising his arm to hit her again. She ducked the wild swing and ran.
She skittered down the stairs, heels flying across the slick marble and her hand sliding down the brass railing. She covered the four floors to the lobby in under thirty seconds.
The old guy had grabbed for her as she went, but missed and tripped over his friend. He toppled hard down the stairs and landed with a thud on the third floor landing, bounced off the marble and then fell still.
She listened for sounds from above, but the men were not moving.
When she hit the ground floor, she turned into a back hallway and left the building through the connected post office. She wanted to avoid the guards and any colleagues who might be in the lobby.
She could feel her cheek swelling. Bruises had probably already bloomed on her face and her throat. Blood from her split lip was dripping down her chin. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and ran a shaking finger across her teeth. They all seemed to be intact.
She wished she could just sit down on the wide stairs outside the post office and cry. Let great heaving sobs shake her body until they ran out. But, she didn’t have that kind of time. The guys in the stairwell weren’t down for good. She needed to get back to the office, call Connelly, and figure out what to do next.
She ran the length of Grant Street at full speed, dodging between office workers and crossing against the lights.