Page 62 of Passionate Defense

“Really, honey,” she said, catching his hands with hers. “I’m okay.”

Winded from the ordeal, her voice was unconvincing, and it quivered as she spoke. Shaken, she leaned heavily against him.

“She couldn’t breathe,” Vicky added. “The bastard had her pinned to the wall with his hand over her face. She was turning blue when I walked up. We should call the police. He’s drunk and a menace to everyone he comes into contact with.”

“No, please. Let’s just go back to our seats,” Lanie insisted as she leaned back and looked up at Ethan. “I don’t want him to spoil the game. I’m okay.”

“The hell with the game,” Ethan growled.

“No. To hell with him,” she asserted. “We came to see the Sox win, and I want to see the fans swarm the field and celebrate when they do. It’s a once in a lifetime experience like you said, and I won’t let him take that away from us.” She framed her husband’s face with her hands, trying to convince him. “You and Vicky came to my rescue in time. Trust me, I’ll make him pay for this, but in court. I’m on this, honey.”

“I’ll be the one makingyoupay, Ice Cunt,” Simons threatened drunkenly. “I’ll sue your preppy professor husband for breaking my goddamned nose and take every dime he’s got.”

Still looking up at him, Lanie watched as the angry fire that was already burning in Ethan’s eyes blazed brighter. When he moved, she held on. “Please, Ethan. He’s not worth it.”

He breathed in deeply, and she knew he was exerting an iron will to get control of his emotions. It was a tall order. If their positions were reversed, she doubted she could walk calmly away.

“Okay, baby,” he said, a tremor in his still-gruff voice. “After I have another word with him.”

She gripped him tighter. “Ethan, please. He’s not worth you going to jail.”

His eyes, brilliant with suppressed rage, met hers. “I’m in control, Lanie. But you were wrong a minute ago. I’m the one who’s got this.”

Although he looked like he was ready to explode, she released him, having little choice as he turned her into Vicky’s arms. Enfolded in her motherly embrace, they both watched as Ethan bent to Simons and dragged him to his feet by his collar.

He struggled against Ethan’s grip, but bigger and younger, he was no match for his strength. Easily, he shoved him against the wall, mimicking the hold he had on Lanie earlier. Although her primary concern was Ethan not having to stand trial for murder, she felt a sense of satisfaction that the shoe was on the other foot and her man was the one giving Walt Simons hell.

“How does it feel to be helpless against someone bigger and stronger, asshole?”

“I’ll have you arrested for assault.”

“What assault?” Ethan asked coldly. “You were drunk and staggering. Such a shame you took a header into the wall.”

Vicky immediately added her support. “That’s how I saw it. How about you, Lanie?”

She was too shaken to be quick on her feet and stuttered, “I... Uh...”

“You can’t do that!” Walt whined pathetically.

“Watch me, you disgusting worm.” Quick as lightning, Ethan slammed his fist into his potbelly, then drilled him with a bone-crushing uppercut which sent his head snapping back into the wall. With Ethan no longer holding him up, Walt slid down to lie whimpering at his feet.

“That felt good. I’ve wanted to do that for years.”

“Ethan...”

“One minute, Lanie,” he said as he crouched in front of a prone Walt Simons. “I think the header you took was right here by this concrete ledge. After you busted your nose, your chin must have clipped it on the way down. Vicky?”

“He was reeling and reeking of beer and that’s what I saw.”

Ethan grabbed the front of his shirt again. “Now that we have that clear, listen up. You are going to stay away from my wife. Don’t contact her except through your attorney. You don’t come near her. For that matter, don’t even think about her. After the trial, she doesn’t exist to you. Understand?”

Walt the bully cringed and nodded in agreement.

Ethan released him, and his head hit the floor with another thud. Softer than the first, but still—ouch.

Her husband rose and came to collect Lanie. Wrapping an arm around her, he guided her toward the opening in the partition, then turned her toward the exit. She dug in her heels.

“No, Ethan. I mean it. I’m going back to my seat and having a cold beer. Then I’m cheering on the Sox as they take the freaking pennant.” She didn’t mean to shout, but he wasn’t listening. Fans nearby were, however, and started cheering like crazy. “Oh, sure,” Lanie griped, throwing up her hands. “That they hear.”

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