Page 58 of He Has Charm

The elevator stops when we reach a sub-basement level, and the guard takes us into a substantial security hub with multiple cameras and consoles. Two men step aside when we enter. They bring us a couple of office chairs, but I remain standing and try to resist pacing, trying not to let my mind get ahead of events and project the worst.

But nothing can stop me from thinking about Harper and how she’s feeling and what that shit baseball player did, or tried to do. Don’t go there. She’s probably right that she would have taken care of Easton if I wasn’t there. Or someone would have.

Finn is on his phone texting and we both look up when the door opens. Rafe, Zoey, and a woman in a security uniform enter the room. The guard who escorted us starts the introductions.

“This is the security manager, Ms. Vogert.” We exchange nods. “And this is—”

We exchange bro-hugs with Rafe before security guy can finish his intro. Zoey steps up and gives me a hug.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “Harper is with Chelsea and Ryan and she’s fine. They’re going to take her home.” She hesitates. “She’s worried about social media.” Zoey scrunches her nose in distaste. “I get the concern. I do. But I told her and I’m telling you not to worry. I’ve started a mini campaign of my own talking about your heroics.” Shit.

“That’s not the issue, Zoey. I don’t want her reputation damaged by her association with me.” She laughs.

“She said the exact same thing only in reverse. You two are such a cute couple.”

“Except we’re not supposed to be a couple,” I say, meaning it on more than one level. She frowns and nods.

“I see. I get it. We haven’t implied you’re a couple, but we’ll have to pay extra attention to that angle.” I nod. Rafe and Vogert are talking as they watch one of the monitors.

“Looks like they found the footage that caught the knockout,” Finn says, grinning as he moves in to watch over Rafe’s shoulder.

“Wow,” Rafe says as Vogert backs the footage up to before the punch and stops it when Easton walks up to the bar next to Harper. She’s drinking an ice water and looks around, her eyes searching, and I know she’s looking for me. Then Easton starts in on her.

“I wish we had sound, but Ms. St. John’s body language speaks volumes,” Vogert says. Zoey stands watching with her hands covering her mouth, shocked and then pissed. My blood boils as I watch the asshole commit his crime of overbearing obnoxiousness all over again. Rafe turns to me and nods, his face grim.

We watch the punch and Easton falling back against the barstool. The blood spurt is caught clear as day on camera—which is too fucking bad because the media will relish showing that shit over and over again, pretending to warn people against the graphic nature which ends up more like being a tantalizing invitation. Vogert stops the clip and turns to the room.

“No doubt you threw the first and only punch, Mr. Knight.” She gives me a half smirk and reminds me of one of my aunts. “Knight is an apt name under the circumstances. Because in my professional opinion you were justified in your defense of a victim and I’m not recommending we call the police in.”

“Agreed,” Rafe says. I nod at them both.

“However,” Vogert says, “Mr. Easton may file a complaint and then it would be up to the police to decide whether his charge should be brought for prosecution. He would also have the option of a civil trial.”

Finn blows out a whistle and my heart thuds so furiously I wonder if I’m okay, whether this is normal or whether it’s an irregular heartbeat like my cardiologist told me to watch for. Did my dad’s heart feel like this before it happened?

* * *

By the beginning of practice the next day, the story, including some cell phone video clips, are all over social media and the news and some of the guys are busting my balls, calling me the white Knight. So I shouldn’t be surprised that Ham Jett is waiting for me after practice as I get off the ice. Delaney is with him and I automatically look for Harper, but she’s not here. Disappointment strikes me.

And as I take off my helmet and gloves and hand them to the equipment manager, Ham greet me and I follow him to the edge of the hallway. Thank fuck today’s practice is closed to the press.

“What brings you to Beantown today, Jett? By the way, Harper is doing an excellent job.” I grin, hoping whatever he has to say isn’t going to be too terrible because his smile isn’t the joyful kind. It’s the I’m sorry, my friend, thing are not good kind. I don’t bother trying to read Delaney’s game face.

“Delaney and I thought it would be better if Harper stayed away from the rink for a while.” I keep my face neutral.

“Is that right?” I steel myself, hoping to hell they’re not going to pull the plug on the agreement that she be my handler. I’ll insist she stays if I have to, though I’m not sure it’ll have any teeth behind it. Plus that would be crazy wouldn’t it?

“You know last night’s incident caused a media kerfuffle,” Delaney says. Jett chuckles.

“You’re going to have to make an official comment,” Jett says. “There are two sides to this story. The version where you’re an overly aggressive bully who didn’t need to punch Easton because he was just talking to the lady—that’s Easton’s version. And the version where you’re a Knight in shining armor rescuing a woman who was being assaulted by an asshole who should know better.”

“I got that. I’ll do whatever I need to do.”

“So far Easton isn’t filing any charges, criminal or civil. I have a call in to his attorney about signing a release if we can come to an agreement about settling the public debate.”

“Fuck. You want me to play nice with this guy—hold him blameless publicly to avoid a lawsuit? Because you know he’d never file the criminal complaint—he’d get buried.”

“You’re right,” Jett says. “On both counts.”