Page 103 of Penalty Kiss
Someone yells, “Get a room!” The crowd roars.
I grin up at her. “You’re my real prize, sweet heart.”
She laughs, breathless and radiant. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously into you,” I say, and it’s not even a line. It’s just true.
All I care about is the way she’s looking at me—like I’m hers, and she’s mine, and this whole messy, sticky, sun-drenched moment is exactly where we’re meant to be.
“Go wash up, Pie King.”
I give her a mock bow, feeling the sticky blueberry stains on my face.
“As you command, Peach Queen.”
The crowd’s still buzzing as I weave through the booths, vendors calling out congratulations and offering napkins I definitely need. I duck into one of the shops on Main—an old-fashioned general store with creaky floors and a bathroom tucked behind a rack of novelty socks.
The cold water hits my face like a reset button. I scrub my hands, watching purple swirl down the drain, trying to breathe past the adrenaline and the way Tara looked at me—Like she wants me just as much as I want her.
I towel off, glance in the mirror. Still flushed. Still very much not done with her.
Outside, the sun’s lower now, casting everything in gold. I spot her across the street, laughing with someone, hair catching in the breeze.
That’s when I see them.
The festive hum dims like someone hit mute. A dark maroon, tinted SUV pulls up past Tara and stops. Twothick-necked men get out from the front, movements purposeful and predatory. Then a third man, emerges from the back, adjusting his jacket as his head looks around furtively.
My eyes narrow to focus, a cold knot tightening in my stomach. The severe line of that jaw, the glint of his eyes… Lucien Delacroix.
He gives a short, sharp nod. The two men flank him, forming a wedge as they start across the lawn, their destination unmistakable. They’re moving on her.
The world narrows to a single objective.
Get to her. My love. Nothing else matters.
“TARA!’Her name tears out of me, not a shout so much as an animal sound.
She turns. Her laugh dies when she sees me charging towards her. A defenseman on a breakaway.
Heads turn. But the men are too fast. One goon grabs her arm. She struggles, her cry of surprise cut off as the other one claps a hand over her mouth. They’re dragging her toward their SUV.
The crowd frays, screams splitting the air. Chaos.
“Call the police!” someone shouts.
My focus is a laser. My legs pump, eating up the dry, packed earth. People part before me, a sea of shocked faces.
I reach Lucien first. He turns, a smug, triumphant sneer on his face. He doesn’t even have time to register my presence before my right fist connects with his jaw. There’s a sickening crunch, and he crumples to the ground like a cheap suit. One down.
The goons don’t stop. They’ve got Tara almost to the SUV’s open side door.
“Hey!” someone yells. A pear sails through the air, hitting one of the goons in the shoulder. Then another, an apple. A loaf of sourdough. Someone throws a decorative gourd that bounces off the van with a hollow thunk. An apple glances off my shoulder, another hits Tara’s back, and a snarl rips from my throat.
“Where are the damn baseball players in this town? Get your aim right!” I roar, not breaking stride.
That’s when Cedar Falls joins the melee.
Mrs. Henderson lifts her oak cane like she’s about to join the fight. Thankfully, before it comes down to that, a tall man snatches it mid-air. With one swift crack across the back of the bastard’s knees, the thug howls and collapses.
