Her Man Friday(72)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

The man laughed. "Fourteen. Yeah, right. Like I’m supposed to believe that. Lookit ‘er." Following his own advice, he turned to offer Chloe a salacious perusal. "Ain’t no fourteen-year-old looks that good, pal."

Leo opened his mouth to comment, but a third voice cut him off before he could say a word.

"Yes, well, if you think she’s pretty, you should have seen her mother."

Leo snapped his attention around at the voice that came from behind him, and was surprised to see Schuyler Kimball standing just behind Eddie.

"Where did you come from?" he asked.

Instead of looking at Leo when he answered, Kimball took a few steps forward and focused on the scene in the booth. He frowned when he noted the belligerent expression on the ape man’s face, then, when he saw Chloe crying, he went absolutely rigid. Funny, but Leo had never noticed before how big and threatening-looking Kimball was. But dressed in black trousers and a black turtle-neck, with every muscle he possessed flexed that way, he cut a pretty damned intimidating figure.

But as furious as he obviously was, all the billionaire said in response to Leo’s query was, "As luck—or, perhaps, irony—would have it, Freiberger, I was on my way to see you, hoping we might have a little chat. Then Lily darling called me on the cell phone to alert me to this other matter. I wasn’t far from here. It was just a matter of having Claudio turn the car around."

That was when Leo noted that Kimball wasn’t alone. Behind him, shadowing Eddie, stood another man—or something—who was even taller than Leo was. Gee. Suddenly the odds seemed much more workable than they had when he’d first entered Smoky Joe’s.

"Oh, great, another one," the ape man said when he saw Kimball standing by Leo. He turned to Chloe. "Just how many men are you doin’, sweetheart? You must be better than I thought. I can’t wait to get between your sweet—"

He never finished what he was going to say, because Kimball lurched past Leo then and reached into the booth, grabbing the man by the throat and squeezing hard.

"Your next word," he said in a surprisingly calm voice, "may be your last. If I were you, I’d think very carefully before I chose it."

The man’s eyes bugged out, and his face began to grow purple, and Leo wondered if he should step in and intercede before Kimball killed the guy. Nah, he decided. No reason to be hasty. Might as well let this thing run its course.

"Now then," Kimball continued in a benign voice, loosening his grip just the tiniest bit. "You were saying… ?"

The man had reached up to circle both of his beefy hands around Kimball’s wrist, but he hadn’t managed to alter the billionaire’s grip one bit. He uttered a feral, guttural sound, then surrendered to Kimball’s fury and loosened his hold. Roughly, raggedly, he somehow managed to mutter, "Who the hell are you?"

Kimball gritted his teeth in a way that made Leo take an involuntary step backward. In a voice that chilled him further, the billionaire announced quite clearly, quite threateningly, quite adamantly, "I’m her father, you bloated, revolting pig. And if you ever come near my daughter again, I will kill you. With my bare hands. And I shall take great pride in committing the act. Do I make myself clear?"

The ape man stared into Kimball’s face for another moment, and Leo was pretty sure the guy’s bowels were about to fail him. Sure enough, the instant Kimball loosened his grip, the man scrambled out of the booth and through a door nearby that was labeled in peeling letters, Res ro ms.

Kimball, however, didn’t move. He only stood bent over the table with his white-knuckled fist gripping nothing but air. Chloe continued to cower in the corner, her shoulders shuddering in silent sobs, her face turned away, her entire body shrunken into a ball. Then slowly, very slowly, Kimball’s fist unclenched, his fingers uncurled. But instead of dropping his hand to his side, he moved it toward Chloe’s hair. For a moment, his hand only hung suspended there without touching her. Then he cupped his hand over the crown of her head in much the same way a father would if he were trying to comfort his daughter.

Chloe’s head snapped up at the contact, her face a mess of running mascara and rouge. Still cradling her head in one hand, Kimball reached into his pocket and withdrew a handkerchief, which he used to wipe away the worst of her tears and makeup. Awkwardly, Chloe reached up and took the scrap of silk from his hand, then blew her nose indelicately into it.

"I’m sorry," she said in a very small voice. "I didn’t mean to—"

"I understand," Kimball said, cutting off her explanation before she could even begin to offer one. His voice softened some as he added, "Believe it or not, Chloe, I do understand. And I’m sorry, too. We can talk about it on the way home."

Chloe started crying harder then, as if in doing so, she were releasing years’ worth of pent up emotion. But somehow, she managed a brief smile through her tears. Kimball brushed his hand over her head one more time, then extended a hand toward her to help her out of the booth.

"We’ll talk later," he said to Leo, the statement in no way inviting comment. Then, to the other men present, he added, "Gentlemen, if you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to take my daughter home now."

Without a word, the big man who’d accompanied the billionaire into the bar extended Kimball’s coat, and Kimball draped it around Chloe’s shoulders. Then, after only a small hesitation, he dropped his arm around her shoulders, too. Gently, he led her toward the exit with the massive bodyguard right behind them. And all Leo could do was stand there watching them go.

Unbelievable, he thought. Kimball really had come through.

"Thanks, Eddie," he said to the man who stood gaping as he watched the scene conclude.

"No problem, Leo," he replied. "What can I say? I got a soft spot for kids. I’d like to have a couple of my own someday."

Leo started forward, more than a little anxious to rid himself of Smoky Joe’s for good, but he halted mid-stride when the door to the bar opened again, and Lily Rigby came stumbling through.

Her long black hair was half-in and half-out of a ponytail caught at the top of her head, and an oversize leather bomber jacket hung open over gray sweats and a big, man-style shirt. She’d accessorized the ensemble with her enormous hiking boots, and, as a result, she didn’t exactly look like a Victoria’s Secret model. In spite of that, every male eye in the place—which was pretty much every eye in the place period—homed in on her, and she gazed about the room with much apprehension.

"Yikes," she said to the room at large, obviously not having seen Leo standing back in the shadows. She glanced around at her surroundings—and her companions—and went pale. "Um, hi. Nice place you’ve got here," she muttered. Smart woman that she was, she clearly sensed immediately that she shouldn’t be there alone, and she quickly turned to go back out the way she’d come in. Unfortunately, another of the bar’s missing link patrons entered behind her, halting when he saw her, blocking her way.