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Sam studies Ethan. “Now I’ve got to get my family out of Glenwood. They won’t be safe once Ethan’s people figure out I killed him.”

“What?” I focus on his tattooed arms. He seems especially menacing now, probably because he just killed my stalker.

“My sister, her kids, and my grandma.”

“Oh. Right.”

We’re having a semi-normal conversation, and that feels weird.

Deciding I’m stable for the time being, Sam tugs me off the couch and walks to the hook on the wall where my purse is hanging. “We need to destroy the tracking device.”

“I don’t understand. You were blindly loyal to Ethan.” I rub my hand over my throat. It’s already beginning to heal, and it feels both creepy and somewhat painful. “Minion level loyal.”

“If I walked away, who knows what he’d do to my family.” Sam frowns at me. “I don’t know if you noticed this, but Ethan wasn’t exactly stable.”

“How’d you get mixed up with him?”

“I was a hunter for my house, but my sister’s husband skipped town, and she needed help. When I came back to Glenwood, I had to get a job.”

“How, exactly, do you apply for an assassin's position?”

Sam chuckles, locating the tracking device and crushing it under the heel of his boot. “That came later, after Sophia turned Ethan. At first, I just worked as his property manager.”

“This is too weird.”

“Ethan got mixed up with Alfred, and things got out of hand. But I couldn’t quit.”

“Because of your family?”

He nods.

“How much danger are you in now?”

“It depends on how quickly I get out of here.”

“You can’t go. You broke out of prison—you killed my ex-boyfriend.”

Sam lifts a dark brow. “That wasn’t much of a loss, was it?”

“Sam, I can’t just let you?—”

“What are you going to do, Piper?” He crowds my space, smirking down at me. “Knock me unconscious? Tie me up?”

I gulp when he pulls a length of parachute cord from his pocket, trapping me between him and the wall.

“Want to give it a try?” he teases darkly, swinging the cord in front of my face.

I shake my head quickly, my mouth going dry.

He chuckles darkly. Lifting his eyebrows, he commands in a silken voice, “Turn around.”

“What?”

“Guilt will plague you if you let a murderer escape, but you’re also a nice girl who isn’t going to turn in the man who saved you from your stalker. So, I’m taking the decision out of your hands.” He sets his hands on my shoulders. “Turn around.”

He’s not bluffing—he doesn’t give me a choice. Seconds later, I’m facing the wall with my hands behind my back. Quickly, Sam lashes my wrists together.

“You’re a little too good at this,” I say, a little freaked out that I’mnotfreaked out. “Do I want to know why that is?”