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But there was a part of me that was grateful to be here. I’d never admit it. Ever. But I wouldn’t be sitting here right now if it weren’t for him.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the bomb they’d all dropped on me only a few hours ago. I was still trying to process everything. I thought I was going to be the one to fuck Thorne over, but instead I’d almost gotten played and hadn’t even suspected a fucking thing.

They’d saved me, and I couldn’t figure out why. Why they’d go out of their way for someone so insignificant. Tom was right, as much as that irked me to admit. I was nothing. A nobody that had nothing and nobody. He was right, thinking I wouldn’t be missed. But him being right didn’t make what him and his fucked up father were planning on doing okay. And it didn’t make it any less terrifying.

I might not care about myself all that much, but I certainly didn’t want to be kidnapped and…worse.

“Thanks,” I said softly, not wanting to look below the surface any longer.

He paused while cutting his own chicken, and the all-consuming look he gave me had me tearing my eyes away and staring down at my plate.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, those eyes burning a hole into my face. The way it felt to be caught in his intense gaze…it was almost familiar, somehow.

Like the sensation of being watched these past few months. The one that draped over my shoulders every time I stepped off the bus after a long day of work.

I’d convinced myself that I was just being paranoid because I never saw anyone, had zero proof that someone was out there, watching me. A memory popped into my head. That drunk guy whose hand I’d sliced, who’d been screaming so shrilly before he’d just…disappeared.

I stabbed into one of the perfect little cubes Court had cut for me, studying him from beneath my lashes.

That had been him. I was sure of it. He’d been the one who… what? Protected me? I’d protected myself.

I swallowed my chicken, took a sip of water, then leaned back in my chair, regarding the tall, relaxed man in front of me. “What’d you do to that drunk guy?”

Something flashed through his eyes, something dark and predatory. He didn’t act like he had no clue what I was talking about. No, he just smiled and said, “I broke his fingers and knocked him out.” His smile widened, those green eyes filling with mirth and something else. Admiration?

Ha. Definitely not.

“I just wanted to really hammer home that he shouldn’t touch what isn’t his,” he continued. “But I’m sure he got the point after you dealt with him. Well done, Whitney.”

A fire simmered in my gut at the simple praise.

Praise for violently maiming another human being. In self-defense, yes, but for someone to see the most vicious side of myself and…praise me for it?

At a loss for words because I hadn’t been expecting any of that, I cleared my throat, lowered my eyes to my food, and changed the subject. “So how am I supposed to help you guys? You never really got around to telling me.”

“We need you to get inside Thorne’s bunker at his estate in Glen Falls. And the only way in is through a vent that none of us can fit through.”

I choked on my food. “What?” Go through a vent? “What the fuck is this, Mission: Impossible?” Setting my fork down, I gave him a dubious look. “That’s absurd. Go through a vent? To get inside a bunker? You’re joking, right?”

His lazy perusal of my face as he sat in silence, slowly chewing his food, had me picking up my fork and tapping it on my plate in an anxious staccato.

Finally, he swallowed, and said, “No. I’m not joking. It’s all we’ve got right now. His bunker is sealed with a ten-inch-thick steel door that only opens with his biometrics. Same with the safe. We were going to blow it up, but going through the vent makes it a much cleaner job.”

He was serious.

“When? When are you guys planning on doing this? Tomorrow? A week from now?”

“In a month or two. We want him to think that we only wanted to rob from his stores. That way he’ll let his guard down.”

I shook my head. I wasn’t sure I could handle anything else tonight, and maybe once I’d gotten a full night of sleep, I might be able to mull over the offered job with a clearer mind. Right now, too much had happened in a short amount of time and I needed to decompress.

“I’ll think about it,” I said softly, staring down at my chicken cubes.

“That’s more than I expected. Thank you.”

I shrugged, my gaze sliding to the wood of the table near my plate. Scratches in the wood had me sliding my nail over one. How old was this table? Was this even Court’s house?

I raised my eyes, already finding his unwavering gaze on me, as usual. “Whose house is this?”