Unwillingly, my gaze went to the massive man slouched in the corner of the room. I wondered if Kurt did any bowhunting. Could it only be a coincidence that he’d returned at the same time someone had tried to make a shish kabob out of me? And the car that’d almost run me over could’ve been one of the Porsches sitting in the garage.

Kurt arched a blond brow at me.

My lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. I waited until we were in the car before I gave him the third degree. In the back of my mind, I wondered if the pain pills had given me a form of chemical courage. “So, where’ve you been?”

He glanced at Cromwell. “On business.”

I leaned forward, planting myself between the two front seats. “You have a job?”

Cromwell raised his brows at me. “Perhaps you should sit back and rest, Ember.”

“I’m not tired.” I stared at Kurt. “What kind of job do you have?” He looked at Cromwell again, who sighed and shook his head. “I work for Jonathan.”

“Really,” I said. “And what kind of work is that?”

Kurt looked like he was fighting a smile. “Whatever he asks me to do.”

I started to fold my arms, but felt the stitches pull. “So, you’d put stuff in people’s lockers?”

He laughed. “What?”

“How about slicing up bunnies?”

His jaw tightened. “Not lately, princess.”

I made a face. “So, when was the last time you did it?”

“Are you high?” asked Kurt.

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

Cromwell turned in the seat, clearly not amused. “You’ve had a very stressful evening and are probably under the influence of strong narcotics. That’s the only reason why I’m tolerating what is coming out of your mouth at this moment, but please let me make myself clear. One more insinuation and I may do something I’ll regret later.”

My eyes narrowed on him. “Like what?”

He held my stare. “Did I not make myself clear?”

I flung myself against the back seat, wincing at the dull flare of pain. “Yeah, you’re crystal clear, boss.”

Kurt snorted. “I kind of like her like this.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Cromwell said, sighing.

Thankfully, Kurt drove like he was in NASCAR and we pulled into the garage in record time. Not waiting for them, I yanked open the handle and stumbled out of the car.

“Hey, you might want to take it a bit easy. You’re going to pull your stitches out.” Kurt was a step behind me.

I glanced over my shoulder. “And you’d care? Really? Didn’t you try to tackle me in my house?”

A wry smile pulled at his lips. “Didn’t you hit me over the head with a lamp?”

“And I knocked you out,” I added.

Cromwell pinched the bridge of his nose.