IT WAS my wedding day, so of course, Sam Kage, the love of my life, was standing in the middle of our quiet suburban street in a navy three-piece suit with a yellow tie and a gorgeous yellow orchid boutonniere with his foot on the jugular of a guy who’d just tried to shoot me.
The gun, equipped with a suppressor, was now in the hand of police Lieutenant Duncan Stiel, a friend and guest at my ceremony, who had picked it up using paper towels from my kitchen. He was currently standing there, also in the middle of the street, looking stunned as Sam reminded him that this was par for the course with me. Duncan’s husband—my ex, billionaire real estate mogul Aaron Sutter—was looking at me and shaking his head.
He lifted his hands in total disbelief. “Who gets shot at on their wedding day?”
“This is not my fault.”
His squint told me he didn’t believe me.
“Jory, goddamnit!” Sam bellowed from the road as we all heard the sirens.
I turned from Aaron to him. “How is this my fault?” I called over.
“I’m going to beat you!” he threatened, and his snarl was only made slightly less terrifying because he was in the suit we’d bought specifically for this occasion, for our wedding. The man was stunning, just the power radiating off of him making me want to run out there into the street and climb him like a tree. And since he was supposed to exchange vows with me in less than ten minutes, it was hard for me to take the threat seriously.
“We’re still getting married, right?”