I woke, my heart already racing and arms tensed before I ever opened my eyes.
Someone was watc—
“God.”
Einstein was sitting on the edge of the coffee table just feet from where I lay on the couch, leaning so close to me that I could’ve counted the freckles splashed across her face.
“Your mouth,” she mumbled quickly as she sat back to take a bite of the cereal next to her on the table. “It looks so familiar.”
“So you’ve said,” I choked out, automatically shooting a hand toward her chest to keep her from coming too close when she began leaning forward again.
“Have you had any kind of fillers?”
“What? No, are you ser—no!” The hand not keeping her at arms-length swatted hers away when she tried to touch my lips. “What are you doing? People have boundaries.”
Her stare was unapologetic and mixed with the lingering confusion from whatever continued to plague her about my lips. “I don’t have those.”
“I’ve noticed,” I said through clenched teeth. “Could you respect that other people do and give me some space to breathe?”
A feminine laugh sounded from the other side of the room before Libby came into view. “Be happy you didn’t wake up to find her curled against you. Einstein likes to cuddle.”
“Only because I’m so great at it,” Einstein added as she lifted another spoonful of cereal to her mouth, her eyes still fixated on me.
She seemed excited almost, like she was having trouble sitting still as she studied my lips like she’d found something so rare. But there was something behind the excitement in her eyes that had my heart racing as I waited for it . . .
Waited for whatever she was silently worrying over.
“Only because you’re always freezing,” Libby countered.
“Yeah, that too.”
I looked between the two of them, then settled on Einstein. “Please let me sit up.”
As soon as she straightened, I pulled myself up into a sitting position and scooted back into the corner of the couch—away from Einstein. She followed my every move.
“Something about you,” she muttered softly, as if to herself, but Libby snorted.
“Don’t worry about Einstein. She thinks there’s something about everyone.” Tapping her temple twice with her middle finger, she rolled her eyes and whispered, “Poor girl. Her brain works so much faster than the rest of ours that she just can’t figure out how to be normal for five seconds.”
Einstein smiled as she took another bite of cereal, and lifted her shoulders in a quick jerk that said she wasn’t going to deny what Libby was saying. “I don’t think there’s something about everyone,” she argued around the mouthful of food and hurried to wipe milk as it dribbled down her chin.
Libby huffed. “Name one person you haven’t tried to study and pick apart in a way that only you can.”
“Well, I probably wouldn’t know their name, so how could I?”
“She practically grabbed our UPS delivery man every time he showed up so she could stare at him,” Libby informed me with a dry look.
Einstein pointed her spoon at Libby, but never lifted her stare from my mouth. “But I was right, wasn’t I? I told you I knew his eyes and the shape of his eyebrows . . . and I did.”
Libby shook her head, her tone apologetic. “We went to school with the poor guy’s nephew. He no longer delivers here. I can’t imagine why.”
I swallowed twice, trying to relieve the dryness there from sleep. “So, you have a thing with faces?”
Einstein’s eyes darted up to mine, her mouth curling up in a knowing smirk. “I have a thing for locks and codes and puzzles.” Her tone growing more eager as she spoke, her eyes now burning with excitement. “And that’s all people are. Their minds, their bodies, their features . . . they’re all puzzles.”
And she was fascinated with my mouth . . .
One of my most noticeable features that I couldn’t attempt to alter for a quick, simple disguise.
For a moment, my pulse spiked until Libby flopped onto the couch opposite me with a loud groan.
“Good Lord, Einstein. Show a little normalcy before you bring out all the crazy. We’ve talked about this.” She kicked up her feet to rest them on the table and turned her attention on me. “I put some makeup remover and another outfit in the guest bathroom. There’s already stuff in the shower if you want to take one. We can talk about whatever you’ve decided once you’re done. And in the meantime, I’ll explain to this one why you’re here,” she said with a jerk of her chin in Einstein’s direction.
Right. Because I was just running from a man . . . trying to figure out my next move.
I had a feeling Einstein wouldn’t believe the story as easily as Libby had.
And although every instinct told me to get as far away from her too perceptive stare, I’d passed out within minutes of arriving at the house the night before, so I still didn’t know what I was going to do . . . and a shower sounded like heaven.
“Thank you. I, uh . . . I really appreciate it.” I avoided Einstein’s eyes as I scrambled from underneath the blanket, off the couch, and hurried to grab my bag.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Einstein said, her tone suddenly subdued.
I looked over my shoulder in time to see Libby kick Einstein’s hip and glance up at me. “Don’t listen to—”
“Johnny didn’t like her. If he finds out she’s—”
“If he finds out what?” Libby challenged with a raised brow. “She needed help, and we’re helping her. By the time Dare finds out, she’ll either be gone or we’ll have a plan. Let it be his decision if Johnny finds out.”
“So you want me to keep it from him?” Einstein asked, frustration lacing her words.
“I’m telling you to let it play out how it’s supposed to. She didn’t ask to come here, I brought her. When you find out why, I know you’ll agree with my decision.”
Einstein regarded me silently, her wild yet intelligent eyes darting over my face. After a few seconds, she nodded. “Fine.”
From Einstein’s frustration and disbelief at Libby’s insistence that she not tell Johnny about me, I knew Johnny meant something to her . . . knew she meant something to him.
I wouldn’t have been able to accept the task easily if I’d been told to hide something from Kieran—something I knew he wouldn’t be happy about. There was an underlying tremor of panic deep in my stomach just at the thought . . . and it wasn’t even happening to me.
“I don’t . . .” I swallowed thickly under Einstein’s heavy scrutiny. “I don’t want to put Einstein in that position. I don’t want to put either of you in this position. I’m gonna go.”
Libby met my stare, then rolled her eyes and waved a hand in Einstein’s direction. “You’re fine. She’ll understand once I explain last night.” When I still hadn’t moved, she said, “I promise.”
I took a few hesitant steps, then turned and quickened my pace when Einstein finally looked away from me.
I wasn’t out of the living room yet when she mumbled, “I know her mouth.”
“Oh my God,” Libby groaned. “Get over yourself.”
I hurried into the guest bathroom and shut the door behind me, resting my forehead against the wood as I took deep breaths to shake off the lingering feeling of being interrogated by a look alone. Finally pushing away from the door, I walked over to the sink and hefted my bag onto the counter next to everything Libby had left for me.
Another pair of sleep shorts and a fitted tank—like the ones I was already wearing from her—makeup remover, and everything to dry and style my hair. Glancing up at the mirror, I grimaced at the stranger I found there.
The contacts were still in and my hair was wild, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The hours of running and sleeping had smudged and smeared my makeup, creating thick, dark circles around my eyes. I looked like I’d kissed death and had lived to see another day.
Lines and circles.
Images from the night before slammed into me, nearly knocking the air from my lungs as it all came rushing back.
They’d come for me, and if I hadn’t followed Conor, they would’ve had me.
If Conor had been there, who knows what they would’ve done to him.
Had they known? Had they known I was supposed to be there alone . . . unprotected for the first time?
I pushed the thought from my mind. They couldn’t have. But the threat was still as real as it had always been, and I wondered how this would all end.
I hurried to turn on the shower when my eyes started burning with unshed tears, then grabbed for the makeup remover while waiting for the water to warm up. But despite how hard I tried to choke back the tears, despite how hard I tried to wait until I was under the cover of the streaming water, they continued to fall as I scrubbed at my face and stripped out of the borrowed clothes.
A sharp sob escaped my lips as soon as I was under the hot spray of the shower, my chest heaving from the force of it.
My heart couldn’t handle the fear. It couldn’t handle the pain of what I’d learned over the last couple days.
I clawed uselessly at the tile wall to keep myself standing as each agonizing beat of my heart threatened to destroy me. Threatened to bury me under my grief and uncertainty and pain so that I’d never be able to find my way out again.
My emotions flared and ebbed while I dried and styled my hair, but by the time I was finishing applying my makeup, I was overcome with resentment.
I needed to continue contacting Kieran or Beck until one of them answered to let them know I was okay. I knew that.
But as I shoved my makeup into my bag, all I could think of was their lies and the work they’d been doing for Mickey—their decision to pull Conor off last night for that work—and I didn’t care.
I didn’t care if they thought I’d been captured by Borellos or if they thought I was dead.
Their pain . . . their fear . . . I wanted it.
I wanted them to experience a fraction of what the families of the women who were kidnapped and sold in the human trafficking ring felt. I wanted them to understand what they already had their hands in.
I shoved the glasses on my face and tensed at my next bitter thought, my chest immediately aching.
I want Kieran to never have been involved with this at all . . .
I tried to swallow past the sudden tightness in my throat, and blinked quickly when my vision blurred.
I needed to hold on to my anger.
I needed—
“Damn it,” I murmured when my hand caught on the strap of my bag, knocking it off the counter and spilling the contents across the floor.
I dropped to a crouch, quickly tossing everything back inside.
My head snapped up when the door to the bathroom opened, confusion and annoyance flooding me when I realized I’d never locked the door.
But every emotion and every thought I’d been battling in that room over the last hour abruptly vanished when the person walking through the door wasn’t Libby or Einstein.
A man who looked just as surprised to see me as I was him.
A man whose stare quickly turned cold and cruel as recognition hit.
And just as it had last night, the calculating look in his eyes made it feel like ice-cold fingers were slowly trailing up my spine.