My breathing is irregular overcoming my brush with death and I calm down to regain my composure now that help has arrived in the form of . . . Dante, who is standing over the woman he knocked off me and is now wrestled to the floor. Her face is down, and her arms are behind her as Dante kneels over her.
And here I always thought a bullet was the most lethal way to die in our world, not a cat-like martial arts aficionado who strikes in one of the most public events of the year. And who would suspect a woman?
Wow, she’s brilliant, is what I’m thinking.