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Protective instinct roars inside me. There’s a man in the room stumbling after Jen, and he needs to fucking go down.
I rush him, so full of fury that I’m ready to rip his head off with my bare hands. Pop it off like a champagne cork. Right before I tackle him to the ground, I register his face.
Guillaume, then man who accosted me the day of the finale. What the hell is he doing here? Why is he covered in pie? Why isn’t he wearing a shirt?
The sight of Jen’s undies sticking out from his pants blankets my vision in red. I wrap him in a bear hug and slam him on the ground, a primal yell tearing out of my throat. I reach for something—anything—and manage to find a metal bowl.
The clang of the bowl hitting Guillaume’s head rings out in the space, but does little to stop him squirming.
He snaps his teeth at me, and I just manage to avoid them by jerking my head back. Flipping him over, I grab his wrists and try to subdue him, but he bucks like a man crazed.
“The cops are on the way!” Jen yells, phone in hand. She rushes around the room, producing some kitchen twine. With shaking hands, she wraps his wrists as I do my best to hold the man down. He’s speaking gibberish, yelling things as his body writhes.
It’s not until his wrists and ankles are bound that he quiets down, panting, trussed up like a pig with his face down on the floor. Jen slaps a hand to her forehead, eyes wild.
The sound of sirens in the distance makes her shoulders relax. She turns to me and wraps her arms around my waist so tight I can feel her heart thumping against me.
Then she pulls away. “I’ll go direct the cops.” She points a finger at my face. “Don’t you dare go anywhere in the meantime. I need to talk to you.” She heads for the door, then whirls back to face me. Planting her hands on my cheeks, she drags me down and kisses me so hard our teeth click. Then she’s running out the door and toward the parking lot.
Dazed, I turn back to the creep on the floor. He’s struggling against his bonds, the rough twine already slicing his wrists. I feel no sympathy as my eyes move to the pink material poking from under his pants.
It wasn’t Slim’s cronies sneaking around us at all. It was this fucking guy.
The cops burst through the door and instinctively, I stiffen. But they rush to the man on the ground, handcuff him, and drag him away.
Then Jen and I are giving statements to the police about what just happened. It takes forever. I get a lot of weird looks when I mention the crows alerting me something was wrong, but what can I say? That’s what happened.
I’m still keyed up by the time the police leave. Jen watches them walk away, her arms hugging her middle. When I make a move to go to her, three familiar faces rush toward us from the parking lot.
“Jennifer!” Mrs. Newbank cries. “Oh, you’re okay!”
Mr. Newbank whirls on me. “This is your fault. I told you to stay away from my daughter.”
“You what?” Jen straightens, jaw slack. “You told Fallon to stay away from me? What the fuck, Dad?”
“Don’t speak to your father that way,” her mother chides. She steps aside, and who walks out from behind her?
Bernard. Fucking. Franco.
A growl rumbles through my chest before I can stop myself.
Jen glances at me, her chin held high, shoulders pushed back. She turns to her parents and Bernard. “Mom, Dad, Bernard. Thank you for stopping by. As you can see, I’m safe and Fallon is safe, so your concern isn’t necessary. I’m tired, though, so I’ll call you tomorrow if you want details about what happened.”
“Who was that guy?” Mr. Newbank demands, ignoring Jen’s speech. “Is he from Fallon’s gang?”
“I’m not in a fucking gang,” I spit.
Jen’s father just snorts. “Right. That’s not what your criminal record says.”
“Dad, that’s enough.” Jen puts up a hand. “You can’t speak to Fallon like that.”
He puffs his chest. “Jen—”
“Dad. Stop.” Jen’s voice is hard as steel. She turns to Bernard. “If you’re here to invite me to Paris, save your breath. I’m not going with you. We didn’t have a connection. I’m never going to date you.”
Bernard scoffs, eyes darting to me. “Is this because of Fallon? Jen, you can do so much better.”
I cringe, waiting for Jen to deflect. But she faces Bernard with a snarl on her lips. “There is no one—no one—better than Fallon. Goodnight to you all.” She starts to turn, then pauses. “Feel free to leave Heart’s Cove at your earliest convenience. I’ll talk to you when whoever’s birthday is up next. Or the holidays. Or never. I don’t care.”
