Luxury Model Wife (17 page)

Behind them, someone shouted, “Bar fight.”

Victoria watched as Steve took three giant steps through the bathroom door, grabbed the man by the front of his lapels, and dragged him up from the floor. “You picked the wrong goddamned night and the wrong woman to mess with, asshole.”

When the man found his footing, Steve punched him square in the stomach. A loud
oomph
sounded from his lungs as he buckled over. Steve shoved, and the other man stumbled backwards out the swinging door.

The larger man regained his balance after smacking the opposite wall. He charged at Steve with fists raised. “You’re dead, fucker.”

*****

Steve dodged a right uppercut but swerved too late to avoid a solid left hook.

Blue Suit’s fist connected with Steve’s cheekbone and shot thunderbolts of pain through him. His head snapped sideways and the room blurred. Through a haze of stars, he heard Victoria scream.

Blue Suit hit him again and he dropped to his knees. The carpeted hall floor did little to absorb the impact. Steve pushed forward on all fours then rolled to avoid a kick to the head. He lurched to his feet, blinked, and fought off brain fog.

For a fat fuck, this guy was pretty fast.

Steve’s head throbbed but he threw a quick succession of punches that connected with the other man’s jaw. A crunch sounded after a jab to the nose, spattering blood across the suit’s face and over his lips.

Blue Suit charged with a garbled, furious roar. He grabbed Steve around his waist in a bear hug and shoved him hard to the floor on his back. A few patrons screamed—though others cheered—when more punches were thrown.

The two men rolled into the bar. Stools teetered like bowling pins as people scrambled to get out of the way.

Blue Suit struggled to get to his feet, but Steve wrestled him to the floor. The son of a bitch was as strong as a bull. Steve used a chokehold to immobilize him.

A pair of bouncers pushed through the crowd.

Steve was outweighed, but he was strong and he was sober, which gave him the edge he needed. He gripped the other man by the throat and refused to let go. The man in the blue suit flayed in a desperate attempt to free himself, but Steve only tightened his grip.

Steve would see the man dead before he ever touched Victoria again.

“Who sent you?” Steve forced out the words between breaths. He tightened his grip. Blue Suit made gurgling sounds deep in his throat. His face had begun to turn as blue as his suit.

“Hey, dudes, break it up.” A deep voice, probably one of the bouncers, boomed above the crowd.

Steve ignored him. He’d been in this bar enough times to know the bouncers rarely interfered with a fight. As long as the brawlers didn’t break anything, the paid muscle just called the police.

“Who, dammit?” The bar had become a frenzy of screams and cheers.

Sirens blared. Victoria shouted something, but Steve couldn’t make it out. The room around him grew fuzzy with the strain of subduing Blue Suit.

Suddenly, arms like steel pulled backwards and his hands tore free from his adversary. Someone dragged him to his feet. His arms were pinned behind his back and zip ties cinched his wrists.

A voice dripping with sarcasm growled in his ear. “Conducting sensitivity training, Carlson?”

Steve shook his head to clear it as he was propelled forward. “Shit. Wilson. It had to be you.”

“Shut up and keep moving,” Officer Wilson replied, pushing him through the crowded nightclub. Patrons parted to let them pass. Some clapped their approval. Others hooted or heckled.

They reached the exit and crossed into the neon-lit parking lot. Steve stumbled and Officer Wilson grabbed him by the elbow to steady his feet. When they reached his police cruiser, he pushed Steve face-first against the car. “I dare you to move.”

Steve kept his cheek pressed to cool steel. “I tried to use my words, officer, but the other guy wouldn’t listen. So I had to kick his ass.”

“You’re a real wise guy, aren’t you, Carlson?” Wilson gave him another shove.

*****

Victoria rushed to the parking lot. “When she spotted Steve cuffed and pressed against the police car, she approached the officer standing by. “Officer, please don’t arrest him. Steve was only protecting me.”

Steve lifted his head to watch while she pointed to Blue Suit being hauled to a separate police car. “That man assaulted me. I’m sure we can find witnesses.”

Victoria lifted the hem of her short-sleeved shirt and angled her arm. “I have bruises to prove it.”

To his credit, the officer took a flashlight from inside the car and used it to inspect Victoria’s arm. A visible handprint in shades of purple had begun to form.

“Want to go to the hospital? Press assault charges?”

“No hospital. But I will press charges if you think I should. That man has been following me. When he grabbed me tonight, Steve intervened.”

The officer in the other cruiser opened the rear door of his car and protected Blue Suit’s head while he climbed inside. The cop pursed his lips but said nothing. His penetrating gaze searched Victoria’s face. It was clear he was calculating, evaluating.

He cast an eye on Steve then told him to turn around. “This about the Van Orr estate? What we talked about at the station the other day?”

Steve flicked blood from the corner of his mouth with his tongue. “Most likely. Though I don’t know who that guy is or why he attacked Mrs. Van Orr.”

The rookie ran a hand over his cheek. “How ‘bout you let the police learn the answers to that.” He pulled a tool from his belt and cut Steve’s bindings. “Okay, hotshot, get out of here.”

Steve rubbed his wrists but grimaced when he tried to smile. “Thanks.”

Victoria sighed with relief. “Thank you, officer.”

“The name’s Wilson.” He offered a curt nod. “Come down to the station to press charges.” He and the other officer got into their cars. The man in the blue suit’s bloodied face contorted with fury through the back window as the cars drove off.

“Give me your car keys.” Victoria held out her hand.

“I can drive,” Steve replied.

Victoria was in no mood to argue. She wiggled her fingers and set her jaw. Men hated to turn over two things—car keys and remote controls.

“I’m not taking no for an answer.”

He finally reached into his jeans pocket and fished for his keys. When he handed them over, Victoria saw that his knuckles were as bloody as his face. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Then I’ll drive you home.”

“No way,” Steve argued. “Some hack reporter will spot you in the ER and write about our night on some blog.”

“You need medical attention.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Victoria walked with him to his Chevy and opened the doors. “If you won’t go to the hospital, I’m taking you to see a doctor. You could have a concussion or a sprain. You might need stitches. I know just the man to see.”

*****

Victoria pounded on the townhouse door until an outside light clicked on and the snap of a deadbolt sounded.

Jimmy Van Orr peeked through the opening. “What’s going on?” His face was swollen with sleep and his brown hair had bed head. His toned, hairless chest was bare above a pair of gray cotton sleep shorts. His feet were also bare. “Why are you banging on my door at two in the morning?”

“Let me in or I’ll broadcast the reason to the entire neighborhood.” She was in no mood to play nice. “The police will also want to hear what I have to say.”

Jimmy moved back and opened the door all the way. Victoria brushed past him and stepped inside the foyer. She was about to speak when a feminine voice spoke first.

“Who’s this, Jimmy?”

Victoria turned toward the sound. A curvy blonde about forty stood inside the pool of light cast through a window from the moon. She wore a low-cut red negligee, slit from ankle to hip. She took a step toward Victoria, her eyes flashing jealousy and suspicion.

“I’m his stepmother.” Victoria grinned at the confusion the other women registered.

She turned back to Jimmy. “Tell your girlfriend to cover up. I brought a patient. You’ll need your medical bag.”

“Take whoever your friend is to the emergency room.”

“No. This was your fault. You fix him.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s about your goon squad. Call them off before they kill one of us.”

“My
what
? You’re not making sense.”

“Don’t play dumb. You set your dogs on Steve Carlson and me. I’ve been harassed and assaulted. Steve got hurt helping me. I’ve left messages with your answering service since Pinnacle threatened us the first time. You never answered my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Victoria inclined her head toward the blonde. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Jimmy’s voice turned petulant. “Katherine’s a website designer. She’s creating the site for the medical center.”

Victoria couldn’t have cared less. “Whatever. Just call off your thugs. I won’t be intimidated. And you’re going to rectify some of the damage you’ve done by treating Steve Carlson’s wounds. He’s in the car.”

“Carlson’s here? No way. You should have taken him to a hospital.”

“He got hurt protecting me. I’m not taking him to the ER.” The bar fight had probably gone viral on social media. She wouldn’t risk his further embarrassment at the hospital.

“What happened?”

“Get your medical supplies and I’ll tell you while you patch him up.”

*****

Steve limped to the front door of Jimmy’s million-dollar townhouse with Victoria by his side. His busted cheek bled, his knuckles had been sliced raw, and his ribs felt like they’d been slammed with a hammer. Still, he’d gotten worse in Middle East combat.

This wasn’t the way he’d planned to confront his former friend about the trouble with Pinnacle. Coming to Jimmy’s place looking like an accident victim put him at a distinct disadvantage.

He sighed in resignation. If this was the way he had to see Jimmy, so be it. His pride wasn’t so bloated he couldn’t play patient for Victoria’s sake. If it were up to him, he would have gone home for a stiff drink and a hot shower and crawled into bed.

Jimmy opened the front door, but didn’t say a word when Steve entered with Victoria. Steve could tell his old friend was relieved nothing messy had been brought to his door—no torn limbs or gunshot or knife wounds—just some non-lethal cuts and bruises.

And the stink of rotten memories.

“Let’s go into the den,” Jimmy said. “Katherine went back to bed.”

“Katherine?” Steve whispered the question to Victoria.

“The girlfriend.”

“Ah.”

Jimmy walked off, apparently expecting Victoria and Steve to follow. Once inside the den, Jimmy pointed to a brown leather sofa and motioned for Steve to sit. “Take off your shirt.”

Jimmy left the room and returned with a stack of fresh towels and some bandages.

Victoria helped Steve remove his shirt, her fingers brushing his skin like a balm. Despite the circumstances, her eyes flashed at the sight of his half-naked body. Though his face felt like it’d been flattened with a meat mallet, he grinned up at her as if to say,
I know what you’re doing
.

To her credit, she winked at him and grinned back.

Jimmy got down to business. “What’s going on?”

Victoria answered. “As if you didn’t know. You swore you’d stop me from doing business with Carlson’s.” She glared at Jimmy and stood her ground.

Jimmy leveled a malevolent stare at Steve and then disappeared into a powder room. The sounds of water running followed. When Jimmy returned, he pulled on a pair of plastic gloves and checked Steve’s pupils with a pinpoint flashlight. “You’ve got guts coming here.”

Steve blinked against the light. “Wasn’t my idea. But I appreciate your help all the same.” He kept all traces of sarcasm out of his voice in deference to Victoria.

The apology seemed to throw Jimmy off his stride. He looked from one to the other as if unsure what to say next.

“You set us up.” Victoria’s voice had a hard edge Steve hadn’t heard before. “First you had Carlos threaten us, and now some moron is following me. Is that who’s been prowling around my house? When he assaulted me, Steve stepped in.”

“What prowler?” The hair on the back of Steve’s neck tingled.

Victoria ignored the question and pointed a finger at Jimmy. “Your guy got the worst of the fight, by the way. He’s at the police station. Or the hospital.”

“Yeah, he was wearing his nose on his cheek last time I saw him,” Steve added.

Jimmy scowled at him, but turned back to Victoria with an expression that caused Steve’s sore fists to open and clench. Jimmy looked at Victoria the way…a man looks at a woman who isn’t his stepmother.

“When have I ever given you the impression I’d hurt you?” Jimmy replied.

Victoria glared at him, her spine ramrod straight, obviously not seeing what Steve saw. “You’ve resented me for years. Setting your thugs on me seems like the obvious next step.”

Jimmy unrolled clean gauze and disinfected it with peroxide. “That’s ridiculous. I admit, I didn’t argue when Bruce and Carlos told me they were going to try and reason with you. Why not? They wanted your consignment and they’re furious they missed out. But those guys are harmless.”

“So you say,” Victoria replied.

Jimmy began dabbing dried blood from Steve’s face and the sting made him grimace. “I had nothing to do with this.” He held Steve’s chin to assess his work, then added more peroxide to the gauze, and continued cleaning his wounds with more force than was necessary.

“Ow.” Steve pulled back.

Jimmy leaned closer. “Hold still. That wound on your cheek is one millimeter away from needing stitches. Don’t tempt me to sew you up anyway—without anesthesia.”

Steve held still, but he didn’t like taking orders from Jimmy, or being at his mercy.

“I’ll tape the wounds with butterfly bandages,” Jimmy said next. “You should be okay.”

“Great.” All of a sudden, Steve wanted to take Victoria and get the hell out of there. He hated being at Jimmy’s mercy and despised the way he looked at Victoria.

Steve tasted his bruised bottom lip. No wonder things had gotten so complicated.