I’d been raised in a world of rival mobs. In that life, shed blood came with retaliation. I hadn’t been so sheltered to think the rest of the world lived the same way, but even during the short time around Dare last night, I’d known—I’d sensed it. There was a lethal darkness about him that buzzed just beneath the surface. Behind that easy smirk, he was dangerous. It wasn’t hard to imagine his life might mirror my own in some ways. Ways that currently caused me worry because it was Johnny’s word against mine.

Taking a deep breath, I steeled my nerves and pushed up on my elbows.

My body ached everywhere. From Johnny’s hands, from the wall and towel rack, from the adrenaline crash . . . but every ache was abruptly forgotten, and I paused in my attempt to sit up when I found one of the twins and Einstein sitting on a couch to the left of the unfamiliar bed instead of Dare, talking in hushed tones.

The twin was watching Einstein intently, but she was eyeing me expectantly; her stare solemn.

“Maverick,” she murmured without looking at the twin.

After a few seconds, he let loose a sigh and reluctantly left the room.

“Hi,” I said once he was gone. The word was a rasp; the short syllable painful as it slid up my throat.

The corner of her lips tilted up. “Your mouth . . .”

“So you’ve said.”

What felt like minutes passed without either of us saying another word. I wanted to ask where I was. I wanted to ask where Libby and Dare were and why Einstein was the one in the room with me—why she wasn’t with Johnny.

But when I finally spoke, it wasn’t to ask any of the questions filling my mind. “I’m sorry.” When one of her eyebrows ticked up, I said, “I know Johnny is your boyfriend, or something like that, and—”

“And he should’ve never been in that bathroom with you,” she finished for me. “He told me he was going to get a drink. I didn’t know . . .” She took a shuddering breath. “I didn’t know he would see you. I was hoping he wouldn’t see you. He has problems with his anger, and when he doesn’t trust someone, he sees them as a threat to his friends.”

I started to nod but stopped when the movement hurt. “I had the window open. He saw it and . . .” I wavered, remembering the rage that had burned in his eyes. “I’m pretty sure he thought I snuck in here.”

“There,” she corrected.

“Excuse me?”

“We’re at a different house. Dare and Libby brought you here.”

I stilled, then slowly let my eyes touch on everything in the room as I pushed myself the rest of the way up. It was large and had masculine tones, but otherwise held nothing to hint at where I might be.

“Where is here?”

“Libby and Dare’s family home,” she responded coolly. “We all stay here from time to time.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t think I should be here.”

“Really?” she asked, sounding more curious than was necessary. “Why?”

A strained laugh forced from my chest. “Because your boyfriend tried to kill me. Because I stabbed him. Because I don’t know any of you and I just—I need to leave.”

Einstein watched me in silence as seconds slipped by. “A long time ago we tried to be there for my sister when she ran, but she was too proud to accept the help. Maybe a little afraid,” she added softly, a sad smile touching her face. “We can be a little intimidating. But she should’ve accepted the help.”

“Wait, what—?” I started when she rose from the couch, my bag in her hand.

“Dare told Johnny never to touch you again. If that wasn’t enough for him, Johnny knows why you’re here now, and he knows I’ll leave him if he goes near you,” she said as she dropped my bag onto the bed near my feet.

I studied her in

tense stare to see if there was anything there—anything that might let on she had gone through the bag and seen more than she should’ve—but there was nothing.

“I don’t understand anything you’re telling me,” I said when she began turning toward the door.

She stopped, her eyes dropping to my mouth before searching my face. “Libby told me about you before the guys showed up at the house. Was she right . . . are you running from someone? Hiding from them?”

I hesitated then nodded.