Rosa’s new living quarters on Lantana Island had one small bedroom, an attached mini-kitchen and bathroom, and a sitting area that was only just big enough for a double-seater couch. The space was even smaller than her tiny apartment at home, but with its gauzy curtains and brightly patterned bedspread, it seemed much prettier. It was set well back from the guest bures and the beach, and there were two other units on either side — one for Mere, and one for the resort’s chef, Celina. A vase filled with fresh flowers had been left on the wooden dresser, and the room was fragrant with their scent.

Rosa woke up there the morning after her arrival. This early it was a little cold. Well, chilly enough that she’d pulled the bed sheet over her, which was probably the coolest it ever got on Lantana Island. She’d felt a bit jet lagged last night, but once she’d fallen asleep she’d slept well. Perhaps because Otto was two thousand miles away. Or maybe it was the fresh sea air. Or the deep silence, broken only by the chirps and clicks that had been coming from a couple of small, fat lizards — geckos — that had been on her ceiling.

Now there was only one gecko. Had it mated with the other one during the night, or eaten it? Or perhaps it had seduced it, exhausted it with wild lizard sex, and then eaten it. She could imagine Dalton doing something similar. He probably used his buccaneer looks to seduce women, and then, when they were exhausted from a night of unimaginable pleasure—

Rosa cut off the thought with an impatient sound and sat up. She wasn’t going to lie around dreaming about Captain Ass-Wipe. She had a wedding to put together and only four days to do it.

Rosa sucked in a deep breath through her nose, held it for the count of three, then hissed it out through her teeth. Rosa Roughknuckles could handle it. The new her could deal with anything.

Which reminded her. She needed to learn how to defend herself. Before leaving Australia she’d taken some beginner karate lessons, but here at Lantana, lessons weren’t an option. Instead, she’d been watching fight training videos on YouTube so she could practice the moves on her own.

But for now the wedding was more important. First she’d call her sister, then she’d get to work.

She grabbed her cellphone off the dresser and opened a video chat window. It rang for long enough Rosa thought it was going to click to voicemail, but then a fuzzy, dark image came on the screen. Carin’s face, puffy with sleep. Her long hair stuck out at all angles.

“What kind of time do you call this?” groaned her sister.

“It’s six o’clock here,” said Rosa. “Doesn’t that mean it’s eight o’clock there? I thought I’d catch you before work.”

“No, dummy, it’s four in the morning here.” Carin yawned. “I thought you were the ultra-organized one?”

“Sorry. Want me to call back? I was just ringing to let you know I got here safely.”

“I’m awake now.” Carin drank some water from a glass on her bedside table, then propped her pillows up and settled back on them. “So tell me about the island. What’s it like?”

Rosa sat cross-legged on her bed, gazing out at the trees. The dawning sun touched the top of the leaves with gold. “Exactly like the pictures I showed you, only even more beautiful, if you can believe it.” Rosa described the resort and told her sister about her brief visit with Tiny. She hesitated before mentioning Captain Ass-Wipe, but finally said, “Tiny’s brother is here, looking after her.”

“Her brother? His name’s Dalton, right? I thought he was a deranged serial killer on death row.”

Rosa snorted. Though Carin was two years younger, the rumors must have made the leap from year to year at their school like a nasty virus, growing stronger as they went.

“I hadn’t heard that one,” she said.

“So spill. Which of the rumors is true?”

“All I know is he has nice eyebrows.”

“Nice eyebrows?”

“One of them has a scar going through it, so it looks like it’s broken. It makes him look like a freebooter.”

“You’re weird, you know that?”

“So people tell me.” Rosa pictured Dalton. “It’s not just his eyebrows. He has this shaggy black hair that looks windswept even when he’s inside. And he was shirtless.”

“Shirtless?” Carin raised her eyebrows, interest in her voice. “He’s hot?”

“Like a freebooter,” repeated Rosa patiently. Had Carin not heard her the first time? “But he’s also really mean.”

“Most serial killers are.”

“How are your rehearsals going?” asked Rosa. Her sister had scored the lead role in a stage production of Lady Windermere’s Fan.

“Life is far too important a thing to talk seriously about.” Her sister gestured theatrically with her free hand as though on a stage.

“A quote from the play?”

“Not one of my lines, unfortunately. But Oscar Wilde’s a genius. I only wish you were going to be here to see us perform.”

“I’m sorry to miss it,” said Rosa. “Listen, I’d better not talk too long. Everything’s okay with you?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Carin glanced up, her expression suddenly pensive. “Everything’s great.”

“I can’t believe you’re an actress. You’re the worst liar in the entire universe. How do they let you do plays?”

Carin sighed. “Okay, I should probably tell you. Not that you can do anything about it, and I don’t want you to worry. But I caught someone looking in my window yesterday, and I think it might have been Otto.”

“What?” Rosa scrambled off the bed and stood up. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I got a fright, that’s all. By the time I got outside, he was gone.”

“You went out to confront him? Are you crazy?” Rosa paced around her little bedroom, pressing the phone to her ear hard enough to hurt.

“I probably should have stayed inside and called the cops, but I was pissed off, and maybe not thinking clearly.”

Rosa closed her eyes, her stomach twisting itself in and out of knots like a tentacled sea creature brought to the surface. She wanted to yell at her sister, to tell her again how important it was to be careful. Too late for that now. Besides, Carin hadn’t done anything wrong. It was Otto she really wanted to scream at.

“You did call the police though, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, but I got the impression they weren’t that interested. Otto didn’t try to break in, and I’m not the one with the protection order. They came around and took a statement, but I don’t know if they’ll actually do anything.”

“You told them it was Otto?”

“I told them I thought it was him. Problem is, I can’t swear to it. Not a hundred percent.”

Rosa’s chest felt tight. Carin suffered from debilitating panic attacks, so having Otto harassing her was the last thing she needed.

“Can Jake stay with you for a while?” she asked. “Or even better, could you go and stay with him?” Carin’s best friend was loaded, and had plenty of room for guests.

“If it was Otto, he was most likely looking for you,” said Carin. “Hopefully he’s figured out you’ve left the country, and now he’ll leave me alone.”

“Hopefully. But don’t take this lightly. He’s as crazy as a sack of snakes, but if he wasn’t clever, he’d be back in jail already. He was on parole when he started hassling me, so the police would have come down hard on him if they’d found any evidence.”

“I guess I can stay with Jake for a few days. Might mess up his love life, but it’s not like he’s short of dates.”

“Okay, good. And I think you should file your own protection order.”

“You really think I need to go that far?”

“Yes, I do. And if you see him again, call the police right away, okay?”

Before they hung up, Rosa made Carin promise to email her every morning to check in. By that time, she was pacing anxiously around the small room. She needed to go and punch something. Maybe there was nothing she could do to help Carin, but even with the wedding looming over her, she wasn’t going to put off helping herself.

She dressed quickly in shorts and a T-shirt, and jogged down to the beach in her bare feet. This early it was deserted. Thank goodness there was nobody around to see her first training session. But she still felt self-conscious as she stopped on the sand, then spread her feet, bent her knees, and extended her arms in front of her.

Left shoulder forward. Right elbow back. Bounce a little. Now punch!

The YouTube videos were a lot more fun to emulate than her beginner karate lessons had been. The guys in those videos looked totally badass. Rosa shifted her weight to her front foot and spun as she kicked. Once, twice, three times. Then she kicked with the other foot, and tried a few punches, too. It felt great. She picked up the pace, adding some jumps to the kicks, and stringing the moves together. Surprising how quickly she got puffed, but it felt good to be doing something.

If she ever saw Otto again, she’d kick his ass all the way back to Creepsville. On the way, she’d give him a private tour of Fist City, before stopping off at World of Hurt—

“Nice moves.”

Rosa spun around, chest heaving from the excursion. Dalton had his hands on his hips. His lips were pressed together, although it wasn’t even seven o’clock yet, so surely he couldn’t be angry she was doing this instead of working?

He was just as irritatingly handsome this morning as he’d been yesterday. He wore running shorts, trainers, and an old white T-shirt that clung to him like a lover, caressing the muscles of his chest and arms. The sun lit up the scruffiness of his hair and the angles of his face, as though a heavenly finger couldn’t resist reaching down to touch him.

“Crap,” she mumbled under her breath. Of all the people to catch her out practicing, why did it have to be him? “I’ll be in my office by eight,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about my work not getting done.”

“Don’t let me interrupt your workout.” He waved his hand in an arrogant gesture, as though ordering her to continue. His gesture made her back stiffen. She wasn’t his to command.

“It’s not a workout. It’s hand-to-hand combat training. And I’m a lethal weapon, so you’d better stand clear.” She got back into her starting pose with her fists raised and her knees bent. If she ignored Dalton, maybe he’d go away.

“No, it’s not,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s not hand-to-hand combat training. It’s a glorified workout, nothing more. If you’re practicing those moves because you want to defend yourself, you’re wasting your time.”

She couldn’t keep the outrage out of her voice. “This is the training done by Navy SEALs. If you have a problem with it, take it up with the elite division of the US Navy. I’m sure they’ll be grateful to you for telling them they’ve been doing it wrong all this time.”

“That kind of training is fine for SEALs. Just not for you.” He stepped toward her, stopping an arm’s length away. “You’re what, five foot five? And you don’t weigh as much as a wet cat. Anyone you’re defending yourself against is likely to be taller and heavier, so you won’t get close enough to punch or kick them. And if you do manage to strike them, all you’ll do is break your hand or foot.” He copied her stance, spreading his own legs and bending his knees. “Here, try it. Give me your best shot.”

She weighed less than a wet cat? Was that meant to be an insult? Rosa balled her fists. “You want me to punch you?”

“I want to show you a better way. One that will actually work for you.” He cocked his head. “That is, if you’re serious about learning to defend yourself.”

How dare he assume that because he was a man, he knew more about fighting than she did?

She brought her fists up in front of her face. “I don’t want to hurt you.” That was a big, fat lie. She wouldn’t mind hurting him. In fact, she’d probably enjoy it rather a lot. Did that make her a bad person?

“I’ll risk it.” He dropped his hands. “I’ll even give you a free shot.”

She moved closer. Dalton was a lot taller than she was. The face of the imaginary opponent she’d been fighting — Otto’s face — had been at her level. In real life, Otto was a little shorter than Dalton, and not nearly as well-muscled. But yes, Otto was also taller than she was. So what? She was Rosa Roughknuckles, the toughest freebooter in the South Pacific.

“Come on.” He motioned her forward. “Try throwing a punch.”

She curled her fist and punched up, aiming for the irritating curl of his full lips. He dodged backward, so the punch didn’t connect. And at the same moment her punch was supposed to land, she felt a sharp tap against her ribs. He’d simply reached out and touched her, and she hadn’t seen it coming, let alone been able to defend against it.

“Trying to punch my face leaves you exposed,” he said. “I have superior reach and strength. You’re not fast enough to surprise me, and you can’t win by fighting the way Navy SEALs do. You need to be smarter than that.”

Rosa lowered her hands, disappointed. “Then what would you do?”

“There are plenty of self-defense moves that’ll be effective. Just stay away from the showy punches and roundhouse kicks. They only work in the movies.” He slipped off his trainers so he had bare feet too, and took up a fighting stance. “Here. I’ll show you some techniques that’ll be more effective for you.”

Self-defense moves didn’t sound nearly as badass as Navy SEAL hand-to-hand combat training. She wanted to strike fear into an attacker’s heart with impressive jump kicks and spinning strikes. Still, even Chuck Norris had probably started small.

“Why would you help me?” she asked, settling back into a fighting stance.

“Because I misjudged you.” He said the words coolly, without a hint of apology in his tone. Still, Rosa had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep from giving him a satisfied smile.

“You did?” she asked sweetly, hoping for more.

“Try going for my knee. Kick it sideways, so I can’t keep my balance. You want to drop your attacker if you can, to safely get away.” He reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her wrist tight. “So now I’ve got you. Show me what you’re going to do.”

For a moment, she couldn’t show him anything. His touch had made her heart leap, as though he’d taken those paddles they use on TV medical dramas, yelled CLEAR, and pumped a thousand volts through her system. Blame the fact she hadn’t been touched by any man for a long time, let alone one who looked like a pirate fantasy come to life.

Stop it, Rosa.

“Um.” She struggled to clear the confusion from her brain. But it wasn’t just the contact making her dopey. He was so close that all she could smell was man-spice. She wasn’t even sure she knew what man-spice was, except that he smelled of it.

Some part of its composition was fresh air and hard work, just like yesterday, but it was also mixed with a delicious cologne. The scent didn’t just go into her nose or lungs. No, it arrowed right through her, tickled the depths of her belly, and messed with the muscles that supported her legs.

“My knee,” he prompted.

That’s right. She couldn’t think about his bulging biceps, or his wide chest, or his yummy scent, or his still-unshaven jaw, or the fact his lips were all too kissable.

His knee. Sideways.

She kicked it with the side of her bare foot. Hard.

He went down, grunting with pain and pulling her with him. She hit the sand with enough force to make her teeth snap together. He landed half on top of her, pinning her.

“Ooof.” She struggled to catch her breath. “Heavy.”

He lifted his upper body off her by pressing the sand away, as though he was doing a push up. All she could do was watch his biceps flex as he pushed up to standing.

“We can tick that move off.” He spoke with gritted teeth. “But next time, save the full-strength kicks for any real-life dangerous situations you might find yourself in.” He extended one hand to help her to her feet, lifted her as though she weighed nothing, and took her wrist again. “This time, we’ll work on breaking the hold, so you don’t get dragged down with your attacker.”

Although he was still touching her with his thousand-volt grip, his gorgeous face was close enough to make her weak, and his man-spice was stronger than ever, she managed to nod. “Half-strength kicks,” she said. “Got it.”

Then she gave him a long, slow, and very satisfied grin. Rosa Roughknuckles had dropped him like a stone. Maybe becoming a badass lethal weapon wasn’t such a wild fantasy after all. And, oh boy, wouldn’t that be a dream come true.