Finn didn’t slow down. Red edged his vision, the snap of the camera playing over and over in his head. He had nightmarish memories laced with that sound. All the cameras in his face. All the questions. No secrets, no privacy. All the false accolades. He stepped around the breakfast bar and crowded the guy. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
The guy lifted his hands, his blue eyes full of faux innocence. “What’s your problem, dude? I was taking pics of the food.”
“Because cereal boxes are so interesting?”
“Maybe they are.”
“You were taking our picture.” Finn took another menacing step forward, making the guy back up against the wall. “Give me your phone.”
“Screw you, man. It’s my property. And a free country. I can take a picture.”
Finn growled. “Give. Me. Your. Phone.”
The kid swallowed hard. “What’s the big secret? Cheating on your wife or something? Or don’t want the world to know you’ve got issues?”
Finn grabbed the front of the kid’s shirt and shoved him hard against the wall, fury coursing through him. The guy’s breath popped out of him, the impact rattling the nearby pastry table.
“Finn.” Liv called out somewhere behind him, but it was just background noise. He needed that phone. His photo couldn’t be released. But more than that, how dare this piece of shit think it was his right to invade their privacy? To take their photo like they were fucking zoo animals?
“Get your hands off me,” the guy said, trying to break the grip.
“Not until you give me your phone.”
“Fuck you.”
Finn grabbed for the phone, and the guy tried to take a swing at him, but Finn was too quick and too well trained. Instinct took over. He ducked and swung at the guy’s unprotected side, landing the punch in his gut and bringing him to his knees.
“Finn! Stop!” Liv was shouting now, but he was moving too fast.
He knocked the kid onto his belly and put a knee in his back, ripping the phone from his pocket.
“Why were you taking pictures?” Finn demanded, keeping the guy pinned. “Did someone put you up to it?”
“No, man.”
Liv grabbed at Finn’s shirt. “Please. Let him go.”
Finn couldn’t process her plea. All he could hear was that damn snapping camera, the shouting voices, all the people vying for a sound bite, a candid photo, a glimpse of a tragedy that wasn’t theirs.
Finn pushed the guy’s cheek into the carpet. “How can I believe you, you piece of shit?”
* * *
Liv yanked at Finn’s shirt, frantic and feeling helpless at the immovable force of Finn’s wrath. He was going to demolish the kid if he didn’t stop. The older man who’d been a few tables over from her was standing off to the side, phone to his ear, no doubt calling the police. But Finn was in some sort of zone. She’d never seen him like this. Scary. Out of control.
Deadly.
He shoved the guy’s face against the rough carpet, demanding more answers, and she looked around for something—anything—that could help. Her yelling wasn’t working. She didn’t exist to him right now. When she spotted the pitcher of ice water, she ran over and grabbed it. As Finn was pulling the guy’s head up by his hair, she dumped it over them both. Ice and water spilled everywhere, earning her a string of curses from the two men.
But it got Finn to turn his head. When his gaze met hers, it was as icy as the water dripping down his face—steely and cutting through her like a winter chill. Mean.
Goose bumps chased over her skin.
“Finn,” she said, putting every ounce of command she possessed into her voice. “Stop. You’ve got the phone. He’s just a dumb kid.”
He stared at her for a long moment, fury burning in his eyes, but then finally he blinked, her words seeming to register. He glanced back at the manager, who was whimpering now, and abruptly let go, as if the kid’s hair had burned him.
Finn climbed off him and sat back on his knees, the phone in his hand. “Shit.”