The Vixen and the Vet (19 page)

Scarlet shrugged but didn’t meet Savannah’s eyes. “Nothing else
to
say.”

“Right.” Savannah turned to Asher with tears in her eyes. “I can’t stay here.”

He unlaced his hand from hers and swiped at her cheeks with his thumb, first one, then the other. “Then you’re coming home with me for a little while, darlin’.”

“
Vanna!” exclaimed Scarlet, turning in the doorway to stare at her sister. “That’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is that you won’t sort this,” Savannah said in a calm, measured voice, encouraged by Asher’s gentle support. “Your future brother-in-law tried to assault me. And you want to act like it didn’t happen. But it
did
happen. And it needs to be sorted.”

“So what do you want me to do?” demanded Scarlet in a shrill, out-of-patience voice, her little manicured fingers curled up in tight balls by her sides.

Savannah jumped up with her hands on her hips. “I want you to tell me you believe me. I want you to talk to Trent, and I want him to talk to Lance. I want Lance to admit he was out of line and apologize to me and tell me it’ll never happen again. You want to do this the Southern way? No police? Fine. But we still
settle accounts
. And if you won’t settle them, I can’t be around you.”

Scarlet stared at Savannah for a long moment. “I’m sorry, Savannah. Truly, I am. But I just don’t feel it’s my place.” Then she slipped out the door, closing it carefully behind her.

Asher stood up, wrapping his arms around Savannah from behind, and she turned in his arms to weep against his chest.

***

Settle accounts.
They were the only words that buzzed through Asher’s head as he drove into town the next morning.

Not that he didn’t love having Savannah staying at his house. He loved waking up beside her this morning and knowing that she’d still be there when he got home. He loved knowing that they’d have all day together: to walk in the woods, to make love in the grove, to have dinner together at the long dining room table that had been so lonely for so long.

But he loved her too much to take any pleasure in her rift with her sister. He could see how it was eating at her, but he also knew that Scarlet would need to admit what had happened for Savannah to return home. Further, she’d need to secure a proper and contrite apology from her fiancé’s brother. Nothing less would do. Hamilton was lucky that Savannah hadn’t pressed charges, though Asher silently agreed it would have been a tough case. Assault without witnesses and resulting in near-equal injuries wouldn’t be easy to prove. And if Scarlet wouldn’t even stand up for her own sister, there’s no way Goosey and Jenny would agree to be involved. Not that they’d seen anything anyway. According to Savannah, Lance had already rolled off her when they found her.

Settle accounts.
Savannah was right. It was the Southern way. And while Savannah and Scarlet had their own accounts to settle, so did Asher. Another man had violently put hands on his woman. And he’d be damned if he let it go without a scene.

It would mark the first time he’d gone anywhere in town, aside from the Carmichael house, in eight years. That reality barely crossed his radar as he pulled into the parking lot adjacent to the small white clapboard house that acted as offices for Hamilton & Sons Financial.

Hap Hamilton, Lance and Trent’s father, was the executor of the Lee family trust, having inherited the job from his father, Henry Harvard Hamilton. Although Asher didn’t know Hap very well, they’d spoken on the phone now and then over the years, and until now, Asher had had no issues with the Hamiltons. That had changed. After settling matters with Lance, he fully intended on moving his business to a different financial firm and cutting ties with the Hamiltons permanently.

He parked his car and walked as briskly as his leg allowed to the front door, entering the small reception area. A young woman looked up from her keyboard, and Asher braced himself.

She gasped, then winced, her face contorting as she showed her teeth and narrowed her eyes in horror. “Oh dear,” she whimpered, then closed her mouth, trying to recover. She dropped her eyes from his face quickly, taking in his pressed oxford shirt, crisp khakis, and expensive shoes. She finally exhaled, and he saw her shoulders relax.

“Which way to Lance’s office?” he demanded in a low, clear tone.

She didn’t look up, but pointed. “T-to the left. L-last door on the left.”

Asher turned without another word, walking down the tastefully decorated corridor past a conference room and a small lunchroom. When he got to the final door on the left, he turned the knob and threw it open.

Lance Hamilton sat in a tall black leather chair with his back to the door, talking on the phone. “I can’t guarantee it, Miz Simmons, but I sure will try.”

At the sound of the door slamming shut, he swiveled in his seat, his eyes growing wide as he took in Asher standing before his desk. He stared at Asher’s face in fascination for a moment, then grimaced in distaste, wrinkling his nose.

“Miz Simmons, I’ma need to call you back. Somethin’ unexpected and unpleasant has just found its way into my office. Uh-huh. In a jif. Bye, now.”

He placed the phone back in the cradle, never taking his eyes off Asher. Then he leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers under his chin. “See now? I thought you were just a children’s story, Asher Lee.”

“I’m not,” said Asher, clenching his fist.

“Can I help you?” asked Lance, with a curious expression.

“You laid hands on something that belongs to me.”

“Oh. Oh, ho, ho.” Lance rocked lightly in his chair, a smarmy smile spreading across his face. “Now, this wouldn’t be about that cold Northern slut, Savannah Carmichael, would it?”

Asher saw red. Raw, raging red. He leaned over the desk and grabbed Lance by the knot in his tie at the base of his throat and jerked him forward until his face hit the desk. Lance was so shocked, he didn’t have a moment to react.

“Call her a slut again,” snarled Asher.

“She’s just a cheap piece of Northern tail.”

In an instant, Asher yanked Lance up, let go of the knot, drew back his muscular, corded arm, and smashed his fist into Lance’s already bruised nose. Blood spurted onto Lance’s desk and down his shirt as he drew back his fist to hit Asher, but Asher blocked the hit with his palm and pushed Lance backward. Lance crashed unsteadily backward into his desk chair, which tipped over, causing Lance to crash onto the floor.

Asher rounded the desk and pounced, straddling the younger, less fit man, pinning his arms to his sides. His fist connected with Lance’s nose one more time, and the sickening sound of cartilage snapping preceded Lance’s shrill scream.

“You broke my nose, you asshole!”

“You want to roughhouse with someone? Fight with me.”

“I was raised
better’n to fight a cripple.”

“The hell you were.”

Lance tried to free his arms where Asher had them pinned to his sides, but Asher’s legs were too strong.

“You’re garbage. You get off on hurting women, you sick twist.”

“I never touched her. She’s a lying slut.”

Asher spat on the bloody mess that was now Lance’s face. “I told you not to call her that.”

He raised his fist again, and Lance whimpered, clenching his eyes with fear as a tear rolled down his cheek.
Coward
, thought Asher.
You’re just a bully and a coward.
He stilled his hand and lowered his fist, speaking in a low, lethal tone.

“You listen to me, Lance Hamilton, and you listen good. If you
ever
go near Savannah Carmichael again with anything but the utmost respect, I will come back here with my Army-issued sidearm and I will shoot your balls off your body. That is a bona fide goddamned promise. Nod if you understand me.”

Lance had opened his eyes, but most of the fight had left them. He was breathing heavily, probably from the pain of the broken nose, but he managed to nod.

Asher climbed off him and headed to the door. When he looked around, Lance was crawling to his knees and using the side of his desk to support himself as he stood up. He clutched his nose, hands covered in blood.

“I’m
filin’ assault charges!” Lance shouted from behind his desk.

Asher had opened the door, but now he whipped around, crossed the room and had his fist back in Lance’s face before Lance knew what hit him. He fell back into his chair, whimpering from the pain as Asher grabbed the sides of the chair, trapping Lance.

“Boy, you don’t know when the hell to shut up!”

Lance sat back miserably, staring up at Asher, every bit of piss and vinegar gone.

“Listen up, Lance. This is the last time I’ll talk nice to you before I make your face look like a copy of mine. You’re not filing anything. Not against me. Not against her. If you
ever
dare to bother Savannah again, I will find Serena Shepherd, and I will pay whatever it takes to bring her back to Danvers and have her corroborate every word Savannah Carmichael says about you. So unless you want to be known as the county rapist and be taking it up the ass in lockup for the next decade, you will leave this alone and you will
never
go near Savannah Carmichael again. You hear me, you goddamned rapist?”

“I hear you. I hear,” Lance mumbled, slumping back in his chair, utterly defeated. As Asher exited the office, he found Trent Hamilton standing in the hallway, looking pale and shocked. He’d obviously overheard everything.

“Your brother’s a
menace
,” said Asher, wiping his bloodied knuckles on his pants. “Get him under control before you marry into that family. I mean it. Or I’ll be back for you too.”

Trent swallowed, looking at Asher with something new in his eyes. Respect? Admiration? Yeah. It was there behind the shock and awe. Maybe girls weren’t the only people Lance Hamilton had bullied in his lifetime. Maybe Trent had been a victim too. Trent finally nodded once, never taking his eyes off Asher’s.

Asher reached out to squeeze Trent’s shoulder before turning to head back down the hall.

***

“Oh my,” said Miss Potts. “Oh! You don’t say! Is that right?”

Savannah knew it wasn’t polite to eavesdrop, but she was dying for a cup of coffee. She pushed the kitchen door open and gave Miss Potts, who held the phone with rapt attention, an inquiring glance. She waved Savannah into the kitchen, pointing out the coffeemaker in the corner of the counter. Savannah took a mug down from the cupboard and filled it, leaning against the counter.

“That is just shocking, Sophia. Oh my. Just shocking.”

Savannah looked up, and Miss Potts gestured to the kitchen table, where a covered cake stand rested on the center of the table. Savannah uncovered it to find biscuits and muffins. She took one and sat down.

“The ambulance? Oh my. Couldn’t someone have just driven him to the local clinic for a stitch? Oh, really? Broken that badly? Oh my.”

Savannah bit into the muffin and tried not to grin. She was familiar with these sorts of conversations. She’d heard them in her mother’s kitchen a thousand times. Someone in Danvers had gotten into a tangle with someone else and the whole town was abuzz.

“Well, I have to say, I always thought he’d turn out bad. I had him in my class and he was a troublemaker from the get-go. Worried a storm his brother would be the same, but Trent was a much sweeter child. Anyhoo, I imagine he had it coming. Does anyone know why?”

Savannah’s ears perked up as soon as she heard Trent’s name, and she started concentrating more carefully on the conversation, trying not to look overtly interested. Miss Potts caught Savannah’s confused eyes and beamed beatifically before turning her attention back to the call.

“Yes. Yes, Sophia. You’re right. Well, wonders never cease. I’m sure he’ll be back any minute. Oh, yes. Yes, I will. Bye now.”

Miss Potts replaced the phone and turned to Savannah, resetting her face into a kindly smile. “How’s your muffin, dear?”

“It’s very good,” said Savannah, searching Miss Potts’s face, trying to figure out what was going on. “Miz Lee’s recipe?”

Miss Potts grinned. “Of course.”

“So, uh, something big must’ve happened for Sophia Henry to have the gossip mill running at this early hour. Is it even 8:15 yet?”

“Yes, dear. It’s almost 9.”

“Did I hear Trent Hamilton’s name? And something about Asher?” Savannah looked around the kitchen. “Where
is
Asher?”

“Well, I suspect he’ll be back any minute.”

“Back?”

“Seems he had business in town.”

“What business?”

“The kind of business that gets Lance Hamilton’s face beat in,” she said sweetly.

“W-what?”

“Yes. In fact, it seems Asher Lee showed up in town for the first time in almost ten years. Parked at Hamilton & Sons, walked right in, broke Lance Hamilton’s nose good, and left.”

“A-Asher?” The muffin hung from Savannah’s limp fingers. “Asher went to—”

“Asher,” confirmed Miss Potts, taking the muffin from Savannah and placing it daintily on a napkin.