Free Mustard on Top by Wanda Degolier Page A

held the gauze on his wound while the other was balled in a fist.
    “ I didn’t, but it’s possible—”
    “She has no comment.” Ben stepped between them. “Now step back.”
    “If this—” Helen started.
    “Helen.” Ben interrupted. His tone warned her to stop talking.
    She started over. “If this is related to my restaurant sir, I’ll pay for everything.”
    “No one intentionally hurt you. You need to calm down.” Ben acted like a grizzly bear protecting his cub.
    The man dropped his gaze and took a step back. Ben’s shoulders relaxed. Helen sought out the man who’d spoken. “You said you saw something shoot out of Hot Diggitys?”
    “Sure as day.”
    “Get these people the fuck away from me,” the injured man swung out with his free arm.
    “Everyone please give him room to breathe.” Ben used his hands to push at the invisible barrier until people backed up.
    “Including you.” The man narrowed his gaze at Ben as he teetered off to one side. Ben put a hand on shoulder and eased him upright.
    “You’ve lost a lot of blood, you should sit,” Helen said. A muscle in the man’s jaw worked. He clearly had no intention of taking her advice. “If you’re going to stand, at least put your arm around me for support.” Helen went to his good side, lifted an arm, and draped it over her shoulder. Heavy and awkward, he threw her off balance. Once they’d steadied, Helen said, “I’ll stay with you. Let’s sit down until the ambulance gets here.”
    Her close proximity seemed to calm him, and she guided him toward a bench. He tripped and his momentum yanked Helen forward. She tried to stop his fall, but the injured man fell couldn’t regain his balance and fell on top of her.
    Pain shot through Helen’s shoulder when she hit the ground. She couldn’t breathe and tried to push him off. Suddenly, he rose off her. Gasping, she watched in horror as Seth tossed the man aside. He stumbled backward and fell again. Seth pounced on him.
    “Seth.” Helen screamed.
    Straddling the man, Seth slammed his fists into the man’s face.
    Her injuries forgotten, Helen shot up, and leapt toward them. The man put up no fight, as Seth hit him again and again. “Seth, Stop!”
    Ben reached Seth first. With one knee on the ground behind him, Ben rammed his forearm under Seth’s chin. Seth’s head jerked back tilting at an awkward angle against Ben’s shoulder. He stopped striking the man and began clawing at Ben’s arm and face.
    Ben placed his foot on the ground then stood, dragging Seth, gagging, struggling, with him.
    Sirens cut through the chaos.
    Seth’s bright pink face dripped sweat as Ben backed him away from the unconscious man. When he was ten feet away, Ben released the chokehold and pushed Seth toward the street. Seth whirled back on him, but glanced over Ben’s shoulder toward the approaching emergency vehicles, and he took off running.
    Helen turned back to the injured man. A middle-aged woman had knelt next to him and was grasping his wrist. “Is he okay?” Helen asked.
    “He’s got a pulse.”
    People parted ways as an ambulance drove down boardwalk.
    “Seth Drivoul is a hothead,” the woman said.
    Helen nodded in agreement then sat beside them. “You’ll be okay,” she told the injured and unconscious victim as two men in dark-blue uniforms rolled a gurney to a stop in front of him. They took his vitals before securing his neck with a brace and sliding him onto a board, which they lifted to the gurney.
    Helen stood and surveyed the scene. Ben, talking to a police officer, pointed in the direction Seth had fled. Another group of people were searching the grounds for something, while another police officer spoke to the man who’d said he’d witnessed the accident. The paramedics slid the injured man inside the ambulance.
    Visions of Seth’s bloodied fists had her stomach churning. Seth’s temper had gotten him blacklisted in Hollywood. She didn’t appreciate witnessing his famous