“Gia—”

“No, wait. This beach is public property. We can stand out here all day if we please, and we might just do that.”

Jeez. This was the last thing he wanted. Up till now he’d been just a guy out for a walk with his wife or his girlfriend who had to be shooed along. Now they’d remember him. And worse, they’d remember Gia.

“Just move on, lady,” said the dark-haired one.

“No. You move on. This isn’t Kosovo, you know.”

That did it. Jack saw Turnip-head’s cheek twitch and knew she’d hit a nerve. The dark-haired guard looked Jack’s way. Jack couldn’t see his eyes behind the black lenses, but the rest of his face said, We both know where this is going, don’t we.

Jack knew. He turned, bent, pressed his shoulder against Gia’s abdomen, and gently lifted her off the ground.

“So long, gents,” he said as he carried her back up the dune.

He heard their laughter behind him and one of them say, “Now there is smart man.”

Gia was beating her fists against his back, crying, “Put me down! Put me down right now, Jack!”

He did—at the top of the dune. She faced him, furious.

“I don’t believe you did that! You carried me off like some sort of caveman!”

“Actually, I was trying to be un-caveman and avoid a fight.”

“What fight?”

“The fight that would start as soon as the guy with the orange hair shoved you and told you to shut up and get moving.”

“If he tried that I’d shove him right back.”

“No, I’d have to do the shoving, and that would mean facing both of them because I couldn’t take on one without the other stepping in, which meant I’d probably get hurt.”

“You did OK last night, and besides—”

“Those two aren’t a couple of middle-aged drunks. They’re not even rent-a-slabs. They’ve got ex-military written all over them. They’re tough, they’re in shape, they’ve probably been in battle, and though they weren’t looking for a fight, they were ready for it. It would not have been pretty.”

“Well, who said you’d have to step in?”

“Come on, Gia. Some guy lays a hand on you right in front of me and I’m just going to stand there and watch? I don’t think so. I’d have to do something.”

She threw her hands up. “I’m so sick of this macho shit!”

Uh-oh. A four-letter word from Gia. That meant she was really ticked.

“I’m not sure I know what macho is, Gia. I hear that word and I think of somebody named Tony or Hernando in a sleeveless T-shirt, tattoos on his deltoids, and a stiletto in his fist. Is that how you think I am?”

“You know damn well I’m not talking about that. It’s this ‘a-man’s-gotta-do-what-a-man’s-gotta-do’ attitude. I can’t stand it sometimes.”

“You want me some other way?”

Sal Vituolo’s words of a few hours ago came back to him. Bein’ the man of the family can really suck, if you know what I’m sayin’.