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“How are she and the kids doing?” Anya asked.

“They’re coping, but it’s hard. Jia’s done everything she could to change or move her deployment, but her command isn’t budging. I’ll be moving into the house to watch the kids in another few weeks.”

I smiled at my brother. “Did I hear right that you’re playing uncle to Rae’s auntie?”

He shrugged, like hanging out with someone else’s kids for the summer was no big deal. Interesting. I glanced between him and Rae. Last I heard, she was still dating Simon, a friend of theirs from high school. Their situationship seemed odd to me, more long-distance waiting game than romance, but I couldn’t really judge. If it were Anya, I’d be prepared to wait.

I looked at Rae with new eyes. Long, dark hair with a tendency to curl, a petite but athletic figure and a steadiness that implied maturity beyond her thirty years. She and Zach had been close for years. But she’d always been taken. Simon had bounced between stations in Florida and Connecticut as he moved up the chain of command. Rae had seemed content with their relationship, and I’d seen no reason to pry. But now that she and Zach were playing house? I had questions.

We were full of beer and good cheer by the time we left Harbor Brews. Only to stop short when we spotted Owen propped against the wall, watching the exit.

“We’re done with you,” I growled, advancing on the other man.

“Too bad I’m not finished withyou.” His gaze slipped to Anya, making me want to step in front of her, shield her from his lazy perusal. He had no rights there anymore.

“No. We’re done,” Anya reiterated, her voice strong and sure.

Pride filled me. For all his posturing, Owen couldn’t scare her anymore. Not now that she had us.

“Are you sure about that, Princess? I still have some very interesting pictures. Bet the sheriff would love to see them.”He ended his sentence on a playful lilt, the underlying menace curdling below the surface.

I stepped forward, crowding him. His eyes flickered. He thrust back his shoulders, using his full brawn to seem bigger. But a small man will always be small where it counts. And a man who’d use a woman he professed to love had to be the smallest man who ever lived.

Owen waggled his phone at Anya, his smile ugly.

I plucked the phone from his fingers with a growl. “Fuck that.”

Owen reached for it, but I was faster. I slapped a palm to his chest, shoving. He tripped and fell on his ass. Anya gasped behind me. Thank god for gangly Fenwick arms. They’d beefed up over the years, and all the work in the salt houses helped. It’d take more than an asshole like Owen to best me.

He struggled to his feet, foul language flowing, red-faced with anger. His hand shot out, reaching again for the phone. “That’s mine.”

“Maybe, butshe’snot. She’s mine to protect now. You need to accept that.”

Owen’s lip curled. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself involved in, island boy.” His eyes flickered, choreographing the right hook before he moved, making the punch easy to block. Easy to counter with a jab of my own. Owen stumbled back again, falling to the concrete.

I shook out my right hand. Anya stepped to my side, soothing her fingers over my bruised knuckles.

“I said we were done, Owen. You should have listened,” Anya said, her voice hard.

“You think just because you found a homegrown fuck boy, you’re protected?”

I hated the sneer in Owen’s voice. The confidence.

“Yeah, Owen. I’ve found my people. My place. I’m not Anne-Marie Genter anymore. You and my parents need to accept that. I’m out for good.”

The rest of our party emerged from Harbor Brews, Lee and Clay rushing to flank me. Each grabbed one of Owen’s arms, effectively immobilizing him.

The other man spit out a fresh stream of invective, cursing out me, Anya and our ancestors. “Let me go. You can’t do this,” he blustered, spittle flying from the corner of his mouth as he became more agitated.

“Less talking, more deleting,” I growled, holding the camera up to his face so it unlocked. “Where are these pictures you keep bragging about?”

“They’re not even on there,” Owen said sullenly, resisting Lee and Clay’s hold.

“No. He’d keep them close. Hand it here.” Anya extended her palm, and I gave her the phone. She scrolled the folders with a frown.

“When we were dating, you used to love your clever hiding spots and nicknames. Remember?” She flicked a dismissive gaze to her ex. “Let’s see. We did a lot of sailing together. Does that make my blackmail folderYacht Club?” She touched the folder, her expression triumphant. A few taps and she grinned, slipping his phone into his jacket breast pocket. Careful not to touch him. “Not very creative of you, Owen.”

The ferry whistle blew, announcing the boat’s arrival in the harbor. Owen jerked his shoulders. Lee and Clay eased their grips, releasing him.