Rushing out of the bathroom, I went to his desk and grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote my parting words. I wasn’t even trying to stifle my smile. I rolled up the towel before laying it down on the center of his bed, then propped the lubricant next to it, and stuck the note over the almost empty bottle. I stepped back, admiring my handiwork.

Sawyer was going to lose it whenever he sobered up enough to read words again. I wished I could see the look on his face.

I was turning to leave the room, for good, when I heard it whisper open almost as quickly as it closed. Spinning around, I found Sawyer, dripping wet with key in hand, looking at me like I’d just tripped his trap.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, locking the door behind him.

Other than being a horny bastard, Sawyer had never done anything to make me feel threatened or unsafe or scared. I felt all of those things now.

“What’s this?” he asked, crossing the room towards his bed. “A present?”

I didn’t reply—every instinct in my body was firing, telling me to get out of this room. I slowly started side-stepping my way for the door.

Peeling the note from the bottle, Sawyer’s eyes squinted. “Have fun releasing yourself,” he read, a slow smile stretching over his mouth. Dropping the note onto the bed, his head whipped to where I was making my way towards the door. “Oh, baby, I plan to.”

It was right then, the look on his face even more than his words, that kicked my adrenaline into high gear. I gave up on slow and sprinted towards the door. I wasn’t fast enough.

“Where are you going?” Sawyer said, grabbing me from behind. Damn, he was strong for a stumbling drunk. The icy swim in the water must have sobered him up. “You just got here.”

“Let me go, Sawyer,” I warned, trying to free my arms where he’d pinned them at my sides.

“Or what?” he taunted, dragging me back to his bed. “You going to cry to your could-care-less bitch of a mother, or maybe your wouldn’t-know-if-the-room-was-burning-down father? Or maybe all your friends that were mine before they were yours?” Reaching the side of the bed, he threw me down on the mattress, hovering over me. “Be a good little bitch and behave.” He looked purposefully at his nightstand where I knew he kept some kind of handgun. He’d explained it was to ward off intruders, but apparently it was also handy to threaten a girl into doing whatever he wanted. “Or I’ll have to make you.”

“God, Sawyer. Who the hell are you?” I said, grabbing the bottle rolling on the mattress and lobbing it at him. “You really had everyone fooled, didn’t you?”

“Not quite everyone,” he said, stretching his wet shirt above his head and tossing it into the corner. “Holly and Jude pretty much have my number, but look what that knowledge did to their reputations. If I were you, after tonight, I wouldn’t go crying in the streets to the townsfolk I’m some kind of monster.” He grinned down at me, his eyes wide with excitement. “Because, sweetie, they ain’t going to believe your story over mine.”

I scooted to the side of the bed, calculating how much time it would take me to get to the door, wondering if I could get there faster than Sawyer could get to me. Since he was standing between me and the door, the odds were not in my favor. “Why now? Why after months of being a ‘patient’ boyfriend are you doing this now?”

“Because I can,” he answered, his hands working over his belt. “And because I want to. That’s all the justification I need.”

I had to try. I had to make a run for it, because either way, Sawyer wasn’t going to stop.

“So your brilliant plan is to rape the girl you just had a fight with in front of witnesses, with two hundred people around?” I was trying to appeal to his intelligence, what little he had in his drunken, crazed state.

“No, my brilliant plan is having consensual sex with my girlfriend who’s going away in the fall and wants to have one last romantic night before we part ways,” he said, pulling his belt free and tossing it over with the shirt.

Shit. He’d thought this through. And I knew in a court of law, his story would be the one that would stick. Now was the time to run.

Scrambling across the bed, I dashed for the door and made it three strides before I took a clothesline to the neck. I fell to the floor, coughing, feeling like I was choking on my own throat.

“I wouldn’t recommend trying that again,” Sawyer said, standing over me, his hair leaking drops of lake water on my face.

Turning my head away, I tried to get my breath back. “One day, Sawyer Diamond,” I said between clipped breaths, “someone is going to stand over you the way you are me and kick your ass. And I’m going to have a front row seat.”

He dropped down on me, pinning me with his weight. Shoving my legs apart with his knees, he ran his tongue up my neck to the tip of my ear. “Maybe tomorrow,” he breathed into my ear, “but not tonight. No one’s coming to your rescue tonight.”

Wiggling my legs, trying to free them from his grasp, I lifted my head. “No, Sawyer,” I said, just outside his ear, “no one’s coming to your rescue.” And then that self-defense class my parents forced me to take when I was thirteen paid out its weight in gold. Sinking my teeth into his ear, I wiggled one leg free and planted my foot once, twice, and a third time into his crotch.

He roared in agony, one hand grabbing his ear and the other grabbing his assaulted manhood. Scrambling to get the rest of me from beneath him, I slid along the carpet, knowing if I didn’t make it to the door before he made it to the nightstand, no number of self-defense classes would matter.

Then the door I was crawling towards burst open, part of the jam splintering off. Bursting through the door, Jude took one look at the scene playing out on the floor and went into a rage. Rabid beasts had better self-control than the fury that flashed in his eyes.

Not a word spared, Jude threw himself on top of Sawyer, his fists going to work on him before Sawyer knew someone else had joined us. Flipping Sawyer on his back, Jude straddled him, focusing his fists and fury on his face.

Each hit landed with a crack—each one released a little more blood. Deciphering if Jude’s grunts or Sawyer’s groans were louder was impossible. When it became obvious Jude was not planning on teaching him a lesson, but taking his life, I pushed myself off the floor and stumbled towards them.

“Stop, Jude.” My voice wavered almost as badly as my legs. “Stop.” Reaching out, I rested my hand on his shoulder.

He didn’t stop, but his punches grew slower and less frequent.

“Yeah, you might want to listen to her,” Sawyer said, spitting blood from his mouth onto the carpet. “Unless you want to find yourself locked up again. Who’s going to be here to watch after Lucy when I corner her in some other room then, Ryder?” Sawyer looked up at Jude with a bloody smile, challenging him like he had a death wish.

Jude’s muscles rolled beneath my hand, his breaths lifting and lowering his shoulders half a foot each time. “I told myself the next time I heard about you doing this to another girl, I was going to rip your dick off and stuff it down your throat. But since the girl I found you with was Luce,”—he looked back at me, his whole face lined, before leaning down so his face was an inch from Sawyer’s—“I’m going to kill you.”

And the scariest thing that had happened so far tonight was that threat. Because it wasn’t a threat; I could tell by the tone of his voice that he meant it.

Instead of crawling to them, I was crawling away from them, positioning my body in front of Sawyer’s nightstand. I doubted Jude knew if and where Sawyer kept a weapon, but I also knew he’d look, and the nightstand would be the first thing searched.

Shoving up, Jude stood over Sawyer, seething down at him. “Luce,” he said, keeping his eyes on Sawyer, “mind moving away from there so I can finish this son of a bitch?”

I swallowed—he already knew. “No,” I said.

“Luce, this is between him and me right now,” he said, his back quivering. “Move.”

My fight had shifted from keeping Sawyer from raping me, to keeping Jude from punching the shit out of him, to now keeping Jude from murdering him. I should have hit my exhaustion point about one busted door ago, but I was a girl with a lot of fight in her.

“No,” I repeated, my voice stronger.

“Damn it, Luce,” Jude shouted, “he deserves this!”

I rose, taking a step toward him. “I know,” I said, taking a few more steps until I could wrap my hands around one of his. I waited for him to look at me, and when he finally did, I saw the conflict in his eyes. “But you don’t.”

His eyes closed, the rage still rolling off him. “I’m going to get locked up for good one day, and I can’t imagine a better reason for serving a life sentence than for taking out a bastard like him. I don’t care, Luce.”

Lifting one hand to his cheek, I tilted his face towards mine. “But I do.”

He looked at me, thunder rolling through his eyes, and then down at Sawyer. His entire body stiffened again. “I want to kill him, Luce. I want to kill him more than I’ve wanted anything.” A ripple ran down his back. “I don’t know how to walk away.”

“Let me help you,” I said, waiting. I’d wait however long it took—I wasn’t walking away until he walked away with me.

Below Jude, Sawyer chuckled, spitting another spray of blood. “The felon and the slut riding off into the sunset together,” he laughed. “We won’t have to hold our breath for that happily ever after.”

Jude flinched, but I wouldn’t let him go.

“Don’t waste your life on this bastard,” I said, refusing to look at Sawyer because I was good if I never had to look at that face again. I smiled at Jude. “Why don’t you waste it with me instead?”

The lines smoothed from his face as he held my stare. And then finally he smiled. “I’ll take that deal.”

Nodding towards the door, I pulled on his hand.

Another laugh came from Sawyer. “At least someone’s going to be getting a piece of that ass tonight.”

I groaned—Sawyer had no sense of self-preservation.

Grabbing him by the shirt collar, Jude pulled him up. “You just don’t know when to shut up,” Jude said, drawing his fist tight. “Let me help you.” He drove his fist square into Sawyer’s mouth, sending him crashing back down on the floor.

“Luce.” Jude looked back at me, his face composed. “Wait for me in the hallway,” he said. “I’m not going to kill him,” he added, answering me preemptively.

“Jude.” I wasn’t going to leave him alone this Sawyer.

“Look at me,” he said, waiting for me. “I’m fine. I won’t kill him.” And then, he looked all meaningful at me. “Trust me.”

This was my chance. My chance to show him the trust I’d denied him. The trust he’d deserved that I’d felt he hadn’t. How could I say no and expect us to ever have a fighting chance?