Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(5)

She frowned, watching him for a moment. Speaking so quietly no one could hear her but me, she said, “Put him through the wringer, didn’t he?”

“Oh yeah.”

An approaching engine and the crunch of tires on gravel turned my head, and I looked as another patrol car pulled into the parking lot. Our backup—Officers Ericson and Beal—stepped out. We briefed them on the situation, and they agreed to take it from here with Nathan while Laura and I focused on Asher. Fine by me. After everything Asher had said—and not said—I wanted to throttle his son of a bitch ex.

As it often was, the aftermath of an altercation like this was pretty straightforward. Witness statements. Damage reports. Phone numbers exchanged in the name of insurance claims and follow-ups. Signatures on paperwork. Warnings about more bullshit. A tow truck en route to take Asher’s Ferrari to the dealership. A few more warnings for good measure in case Nathan decided to get cute.

It was frustrating to be unable to arrest Nathan. We nearly had the opportunity to do so at one point over the damage done to the restaurant, but the owner had backed down on pressing charges after Asher had offered to pay more than twice the actual damages. As long as Nathan didn’t show his face here again, the manager would let it go, so we couldn’t make an arrest. For good measure, Asher had pleaded with us not to take Nathan into custody. I didn’t have to ask why. I’d been to enough domestics—in particular those that came on the heels of the abuser being arrested for a previous domestic—to understand where he was coming from.

The best I could do was inform Nathan that further contact with Asher would be construed as harassment and even stalking, and that this would be his one and only verbal warning. That seemed to get the point across.

When all was said and done, Nathan’s sister came and got him, and before he left, he reiterated his pledge to stay away from Asher and the house until further notice. Once the asshole was gone, Asher climbed into the passenger seat of our cruiser while Laura took the back. We didn’t want him feeling like he was being arrested, and anyway, she didn’t need as much leg room as he did, so she didn’t object.

“So where are we headed?” I asked as I pulled out of the parking lot.

“Mercer Island.”

Well, that wasn’t a shock. With what he undoubtedly made as a top professional athlete, of course he lived in one of the richest cities in the area.

On the way, Asher didn’t say a word except to give me the occasional direction. He stared out the window, his gaze distant. It didn’t strike me as a celebrity being aloof in the presence of lesser mortals. From the moment I’d started getting his statement, I’d had the impression he was barely holding himself upright. I couldn’t really blame him for being up in his own head now.

Half an hour after we’d left the restaurant, I pulled down a winding driveway that led through some trees and to a circular courtyard in front of an enormous house. It was typical Mercer Island opulence—at least three stories, huge picture windows, and a five-car garage. From what I could see of the high-ceilinged entryway, there was a colorful blue and yellow glass chandelier—I would have bet money it had been made by Chihuly himself. I couldn’t see much beyond the house, but I was pretty sure we were at the very edge of the island’s west coast, which meant he undoubtedly had a spectacular panoramic view of Mount Rainier, Lake Washington, and Mount Baker. This was definitely not a place a man could buy on a cop’s salary supplemented by a military retirement.

Asher cleared his throat and unbuckled his seat belt. “Thanks for the ride. And, um, everything.”

“Don’t mention it.” I pulled a card from the console and held it out. “Mercer Island is out of my jurisdiction, but if you need anything, call me. If he shows up, or you just need some backup while he’s moving out, say the word.”

Asher looked at the card, then at me. After a moment, he took it, and with unsteady hands, he tucked it into his wallet. “Thanks. I, um. I might take you up on that.” He looked up at the house, apprehension written all over his face. “I think he’ll stay away. I hope he will.”

I studied him. “Do you want me to check on you after my shift?”

He turned to me again, brow furrowed.

“Won’t be for a few hours yet, but I can give you a call. Make sure everything is all right.”

I seriously thought he’d wave my concern away and insist he’d be fine, but to my surprise, he quietly said, “That might not be a bad idea.”

“Okay.” I handed him another card and a pen. “Why don’t you write down your number?” I had it on the report, but I felt better about him actively giving me his number for the purpose of me calling him later.

Asher wrote it down and handed back the card. “Thanks again. I really appreciate it. That you give a shit, I mean.”

I smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

He almost smiled back. Almost. Then he got out of the car, and he opened the door to the backseat so Laura could get out. They exchanged a few words I didn’t hear. After a moment, he headed for the house and she climbed into the passenger seat.

Once Asher was inside, I started up the driveway again.

“Think his ex will leave him alone?” Laura didn’t sound overly optimistic.

I shifted in the driver’s seat and kept my attention fixed on the road. “God, I hope so.”