“S’a long way from your classroom, Violet. What’cha doin’ out here so late at night?” His words slurred together, lazy and careless. He still wore his suit jacket, the cuff links pulsing faintly at his wrists, but his white shirt was unbuttoned, exposing a stretch of pale skin all the way to the waistband of his pants. His cheek was streaked with a smeared kiss of coral lipstick.

“I came for my sister.”

“I thought you were the smart one.” Jay looped a coil of rope around a piling and stepped one long leg up onto the dock. “Can’t you see she’s not down here? She’s probably right where I left her.” He swung the other leg up, swayed a moment, then came to a stop right in front of her.

She didn’t flinch, though she was revolted at the scent wafting off him—cigarette smoke mixed with coconut, sweet and feminine.

“You gonna have a little heart-to-heart with your sister? A little late-night chat?” He leered and leaned toward her. She put a hand up and shoved his shoulder away from her.

“Feisty. I knew there was something about you I liked.”

Violet’s stomach rolled. “I came for you too. To tell you you’re done with Trudy. She’s going to leave with me tonight, and you’re not going to come after her.” Her words were steel, cold and sure.

He raked his hand through his hair, curls in disarray. He chuckled. “Is that so?”

She lifted her head defiantly. “Yeah. It is.”

“Go on home, Violet.” He pushed past her and started for the house.

As she dragged the thick night air deep into her lungs, she recalled the sight of Trudy’s face: her split lip, the bruise swelling her left eye and temple, her hair sticky with blood. If only Violet had done a better job of protecting her sister, if she’d followed her gut, if she’d whisked Trudy away when she had the chance.

It had been her job to protect her little sister, but she’d failed. She’d let Trudy down and neglected to do the one thing her mother had asked of her, her guilt pressing down heavy on her slim shoulders.

She couldn’t change what had already happened, but she sure could make a change now. It might have been all Violet’s fault—Trudy’s broken face and heart, this night, this despicable man—but tonight it would end.

Hot rage erupted inside her at the sight of him lurching up the dock toward the house. Toward Trudy. It was so quick, like she’d been a match just waiting for a flick of the wrist and the spark. She took three long steps toward him and grabbed his arm. Under her fingers, his muscles strained against his shirt, but she didn’t let go, instead pulling and flinging him around.

“What the hell?” He stumbled over his feet and one knee came down hard on the weathered wooden boards. “What’s wrong with you?” He grunted and swung an arm up blindly. His hand connected with her cheek and a half cry, half groan escaped her mouth. Black spots tunneled her vision, and by the time she regained her footing and sight, he was on his feet again, lips pulled back over his teeth.