Finlay Donovan Jumps the Gun (Finlay Donovan, #3)(31)

“Whose idea was this again?” I asked, still short of breath. My yoga pants were drenched in places that should never sweat while you’re fully clothed.

“Your sister’s,” Vero said, throwing an arm over her eyes, “and I’m never taking her advice again. Go to the police academy, they said. There will be hot cops everywhere, they said. Funny how no one bothered to mention the horrible food, the scarcity of hot water, or that we’d get our asses kicked on the first day by a woman half our size. The whole handcuffing experience isn’t nearly as sexy as NCIS makes it out to be.” We both quieted at a soft scratching sound. “If there’s a rodent in this room, I’m out of here,” she grumbled.

The scratching grew louder. Vero’s arm slid away from her face. We both bolted upright when something thumped against the window. We got up and crept toward it, but I couldn’t make out anything past our own reflections in the glass. I rushed to the wall switch and turned off the light. Vero reached for her pillow when something moved outside.

“What are you doing?” I whispered as she raised it behind her head.

“Improvising,” she whispered. “Didn’t you learn anything in class today? This pillow is a found weapon. If anyone tries to come in, I’m going to hit him in the face—you know, element of surprise. And then, while he’s stunned, I’m going to suffocate him with it.” We both gasped as a large hand pressed against the glass. “What are you standing there looking at, Finlay? Find a weapon and hide!”

I surveyed my side of our dorm room, frantically rummaging through my suitcase in the dark. My hair dryer was the only thing in it that remotely resembled a weapon. I unwound it from a tangle of clothes and flattened myself against the wall beside Vero. She rolled her eyes at me. Then her brow furrowed as she studied my hair dryer. She thrust her pillow in my hand and snatched my Revlon Volumizer, gripping it like a Smith & Wesson. I gaped at her as she pressed back against the wall and pointed it at the ceiling.

We both started as a shadowy figure filled the window frame. Metal scraped against metal.

“He’s trying to jimmy the lock!” I whispered. “We should call my sister. Or Nick.”

“No time,” Vero said as the lock clicked open. “There are two of us and one of him. And we were in self-defense class all afternoon.”

“He looks like a professional. That skews the odds,” I hissed.

“Anyone can be a professional. For crying out loud, Finn, look at you!”

I sucked in a breath as the window slid open. The whites of Vero’s eyes widened as a leg extended through it. I wound the pillow back. Vero raised my hair dryer as the intruder’s sneakers landed softly in the room.

“Get him!” she yelled. I swung the pillow hard. The man swore as it connected with his face, knocking him backward into Vero. Vero jumped on his shoulders, one arm looped around his neck, the other smashing the hair dryer into his head as he pinwheeled to keep from falling on top of her. He staggered into the dresser, then the bed, eventually falling face-first over the end of it to the floor. Vero jerked his wrists behind his back, winding the hair dryer cord around them. She dug her knee into his spine and grabbed him by his hair. “We got him, Finlay! Turn on the light!”

I rushed to the wall switch and flipped it on.

Javi blinked at us, red-faced and livid. One of Vero’s sweaty socks was stuck to his face and my hair dryer dangled between his butt cheeks. Vero let go, backing slowly away from him as Javi worked himself free of the cord.

“Sorry,” I stammered, rushing to shut the window. “We thought you were someone else.”

Vero bit her lip as he stood and she got a good look at the green and yellow bruises on his forehead. New ones were already blooming around them. “I might have overestimated the rose hip oil,” she said in a small voice as he stalked toward her.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? Ever since third grade, when you ran over me with your bike.”

“That was an accident.”

“Or in middle school, when you pushed me off the high dive at the pool.”

“Also an accident.”

“How about homecoming night, when you spiked my beer with laxatives?”

“That was on purpose,” she said, pointing a finger at him when they were nose to nose. “I hated your date, and you were being an ass.”

He shoved my hair dryer into her hands. “I was worried sick! I called you a dozen times today. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“We aren’t allowed to have them in class.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to get into this place? I had to bribe a food service delivery guy to let me hide in a truckload of bread! What the hell are you doing in a police training facility?”

“Lying low.”

“From who?”

“People.”

“And of all the places you could have chosen, you picked here?” He threw up his hands when Vero didn’t answer. “Why are there bullet holes in the car, V?”

“That’s kind of a long story.”

“The only part I care about is if you were in the car while people were shooting at it!”

“Of course not!”

“Thank fuck,” he whispered.

“They were shooting at Finlay.”