Mikkel had gotten the text to meet up with Fredrik for booze and lunch. The Dane had brought food so they could have a picnic or something. He was dressed in his usual tight pants and jacket, not paying attention until he heard the Swedish.

"Let him go!" Mikkel hated violence and instantly panicked. However from years of protecting Rik his fight or flight instinct swayed heavily toward fight. He was on the guy, nails gouging into the hand in Fredrik's hair and the other digging into his bag for the pepperspray. He wouldn't hesitate.