Page 95 of The Attraction

“Who are you?” I ask, trying to look shocked he even knows my name.

“Yeah, it’s you. Listen to you talking like some rich pompous prick with your stuck-up British accent.” I can see in his eyes the instability there.

“Who the fuck are you and how do you know my name!” I take a step closer to him and get in his face.

“I’m the man that’s going to take from that bitch what her father took from me.” A glaze forms over his eyes, and I tread carefully because I think rational thought is long gone for him.

“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about. Fuck off and leave me alone,” I say, dismissing him, and it’s enough to piss him off.

And as soon as I do that, I see his hand start to move from his pocket, holding a knife. Thankfully it’s not a gun because I can deal with this. I step back a couple of feet to keep myself safe.

“Not going to happen. That bitch of yours, Harper, her father stole my money and my life, so now she can pay for that with your life.” He starts to wave the knife around in front of me.

I raise my hands in the air to show I’m not a threat and also to hopefully attract onlookers. “Whoa there, buddy. It’s not her fault. She didn’t have anything to do with what her father did. You said money, is it money you want?” I say, trying to get him to put on film that he is blackmailing us if he chooses that option, but deep down, I already know that’s not it. “If it’s money, I’ll give it to you so you don’t hurt me, because Harper wouldn’t recover from that. Please, how much money do you need?”

I can see in his eyes that he homes in on the words that I purposely said to him, that me being hurt would cause her pain, because at the end of the day, he is looking for revenge. Everyone thought he was just after money, but it’s more than that now. He wants someone to pay for his life being screwed up and going to jail.

“I don’t give a fuck about the money, cunt. I want her to hurt. Daddy’s little girl needs to pay for his mistakes.” The venom in his words has my blood boiling, and I have never tried so hard in my life to ignore my instinct to grab him by the throat and deprive him of breathing the same air as the rest of us.

“What are you going to do? Are you going to kill me and make yourself feel better? How pathetic, you weak piece of shit. You can’t blame her for the choices you made in your life. She had no control of her father’s business. Harper was just a child.” I notice to my right on the other side of the parked cars, there are people starting to assemble, and there are plenty of phones out. One of them is a guy that works with Ashton that was given the job of filming, and I also have a tiny hidden wireless microphone planted just inside my pocket that will make sure we have clear dialogue of everything.

“I don’t care about any of that bullshit. You coming to Chicago saved me a trip to London to kill her. Someone’s gotta pay, and it suits me if that’s you, asshole. I can’t wait to watch her weep at your grave. Then I might just kill her too. Yeah, I’ll kill you and wait for her to come to me. This is perfect.” The glint in his eye at all this talk of murder is unnerving for me, but I won’t let him get in my head, telling myself Harper is a long way from here and she’s safe.

“Oh, you’re so tough with that knife in your hand, aren’t you. A real man would fight fair, man to man, fist to fist. If you are standing up for your family, at least do it honorably instead of being pathetic and weak.” And taking the biggest risk of my life, I turn my back on him, showing that he doesn’t scare me, when really my blood pressure is through the roof and I’m sweating profusely. I quickly spin back around and smash my hand into his that is holding the knife, taking him by surprise. When I hear the sound of metal hit the ground, I know I’ve got him. His panic at being disarmed has him landing his first punch into my stomach. It knocks the wind from me a little, but I was ready for it, so I stand my ground.

I put my hands out in front of me and call him to me. “Come on, you gutless wonder, is that the best you’ve got?” I position myself so that he can land a few more punches on me.

“You’re a mouthy cunt, aren’t you. All talk but no fight. Come on, mister tough guy, hit me.” Needing this to look real, I give him his wish and jab him in the side, and if he had any brains, he would see I have left my face wide open for him to hit me properly. Surely after seventeen years in prison he has learned to fight and defend himself.

And then it happens, and the moment his fist connects with my jaw, I hear sirens in the distance. The pain radiating through my body tells me that this is getting real now, and I need to push him over the edge.

I land a few more punches in his stomach, but I’m holding back my real rage. I want to kill this son of a bitch, but I can’t, and I won’t because that’s not who I am. That’s not the kind of man Harper wants me to be either.

As we go back and forth trading punches, the crowd around us starts shouting, and the sirens get closer. And that’s when a split-second break in concentration from looking at the police cars tearing down the street leaves me vulnerable. He lunges at me, knocking me to the ground, and in a second, he has the knife in his hand and his arm is moving. Feeling a sharp prick in my side, I have no idea what he has done to me, but I know I’m in trouble.

Shit.

I’ve fucked up here.

But before I have time to try to push him off me, his weight disappears off my chest, and the sharp pain in my side lessens as he is being pulled backward. Everything starts happening quickly, and I just lie here watching Ashton and one of his guys pin Chester to the ground, his face pushed into the concrete, his hands behind his back, and the knife by my side where he dropped it when they took him by surprise.

Putting my hand on my side where it hurts, I’m hesitant to look but know I need to, and as I pull my hand back up, I see the red dampness on it. The sight of blood should have me freaking out, but instead, it just fuels my rage. Who the hell assessed this man and deemed him stable enough to be let free from prison, and why wasn’t he being monitored by the parole system when he started searching for Harper? If it wasn’t for Ashton stumbling on this by accident while looking into another case, then we never would have known, and I can’t even bear to think of what could have happened.

I try to push onto my side so I can get up, because I made a deal that I would be standing and alive at the end of this, and I’m a man of my word.

Letting out a groan as I manage to push the top half of my body off the ground so I’m sitting, I see Ashton glaring at me from where he is stepping back into the crowd. We don’t want to make this look like it was a set-up, so the less intervention from him and his staff, the better it looks for the case we have built. I know he’s not happy that I have an injury, but as I struggle to get up on my feet, I give him a subtle chin lift to let him know I did as I promised.

Do I feel guilty for the way we provoked and set up Chester? Not a fucking chance. He chose to come looking for me. He was the one who threatened me and to straight-out tell me he wanted to kill me and then go after Harper, so he deserves everything that happens to him. For now, he will end up back in jail, and I will have to go through a court case, but I don’t care. As long as he is off the streets then I can rest easy and go home. Well, maybe not today, I might need a stitch or two in this gash. I look at it after lifting my shirt up. Police are walking toward me, and I guess I’m in for a long night.

“Are you okay, sir?” The policeman looks at me holding my side with blood on my fingers. “Call an ambulance to check him out.” He looks at his partner who starts talking into his two-way radio.

“I will be now.” It’s the best answer he is getting from me until I can sit down for a minute and take a breath of relief.

I watch them drag Chester away, still yelling and screaming that he will kill me one day, and it just shows to all the police on site how unhinged he truly is. It makes me feel satisfied that all the pain I’m feeling right now is worth it.

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur—being taken to the hospital to be examined, a few stitches in my side, and then down to the police station to give my statement and make sure they had all the video footage from the witnesses. They played me the ones they had. Some are grainy and poor quality, but I could pick the one that came from our team because it was crystal clear and captured the whole thing from start to finish, including him being taken away and still screaming. The voices were easily heard, and there is no doubt who started it and what transpired.

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