By the time I processed what was happening, Finn had punched the kid twice in the face and shoved him on the ground. I raced outside to intervene only to find Finn whaling on the kid on the hard asphalt. They both had rips in their shirts and bloody noses. I reached for the radio on my shoulder to call Janine for backup. I was sure I could break them up—both men were much smaller than I was—but I was definitely not transporting them both in the same vehicle afterward.
I grabbed Finn around the waist and hoisted him off the other man. “Hey, hey, cool it.”
“Let me go,” he growled. “You don’t know what he did. What he said to me.”
“Doesn’t matter. Words aren’t the same as punches. Stop. Stop.”
Finn’s voice had a tinge of hysteria in it. Something bad had obviously gone down between the two of them, but this wasn’t the way to solve it. He wrestled to try and get out of my hold, but I pulled him back against my chest and stepped away from Kix. Several witnesses raced over to gawk.
Kix turned a vicious expression on Finn. “You’re going to regret this. I’m pressing charges. See what that does to your perfect fucking pristine reputation.”
Finn’s hand on my forearm went from trying to shove me off to holding on tight. I wasn’t even sure he realized it. He held my arm firmly against him like he was scared of letting go. “Dec…”
He was breathing heavy, and his rough voice broke on the word. Whatever this was about, it had cut him deep.
I moved him back toward the vehicle, only this time, I had to put him in the back. There were too many witnesses, and I needed to make sure Kix didn’t run off.
“Get in there and catch your breath,” I said, moving him as gently as possible into the back seat of the SUV.
He shot me a glare. “If you so much as mention a blank piece of fucking paper…”
I closed the door before he could finish the sentence.
Kix was already on his feet, making a scene. One hand swiped at the blood on his lip while the other pointed aggressively at me. “You’d better fucking arrest him. You were a witness. I didn’t touch him! He came at me, and I was only defending myself.”
I held out my hands in the universal “calm down” gesture and tried to keep my cool when my inner caveman wanted to pummel the kid just for daring to upset Finn.
I had it bad. It was clear I couldn’t be the officer in charge of this case. I was way too personally involved to be objective. Where was my backup?
“Take a breath,” I told him. “Let’s let cooler heads prevail. Do you need medical attention?”
His eyes darted to Finn and back to me. I could see the calculations the kid was making in his mind. His injuries weren’t serious enough for a hospital visit, but would it help an assault case? Would it help a media campaign?
Castor had run out of the restaurant with a first aid kit. “No need, no need. Looks like a simple case of a split lip and maybe a shiner. Bruises and scrapes. Boys being boys, eh?”
Now that his masculinity had been challenged by the older man, Kix gave up. “I’m fine. Whatever. But I am pressing charges.”
My backup finally arrived in the form of Rolly Kepplow, who I’d had to keep on the force due to the simple issue of being shorthanded with all of the fans in town for the Gold Rats shoot.
“What’s going on, Sheriff?” he asked, stepping out of his vehicle and eyeing Kix with a combination of suspicion and awe. I already knew how much of a celebrity fan Rolly was, so this came as no surprise.
“Physical altercation between two males,” I said, moving into work mode. “This man would like to press charges. The other is already detained in the back of my vehicle. I suggest taking them both in to take reports somewhere more private. Hopefully we can sort this out at the department.”
Kix eyed Rolly wearily. “You’re not taking me in. I’ll come down there to file a report, but not in the back of your cop car.”
Rolly looked at me, and I nodded. “Escort him in his own vehicle.” I looked around to see where he was parked. It was only then I realized he’d shown up in the McLaren. Fucking Christ.
I returned to my vehicle and leaned in. I already knew Finn legally owned the car since I’d run the plates that first night.
“He’s here in the McLaren. Do you—”
“Are you fucking kidding me? He stole my fucking car? Is he for real?”
Ooookay, so he wasn’t cooled down yet. He’d obviously crumpled up the plain piece of white paper and set it on fire.