Both the prince and Mafioso followed Donovan and both seemed a tad worried. Well, the prince did. Mafioso seemed amused.

I stood my ground. We were standing eye to eye in a heartbeat, nose to nose the next.

“Don’t even think about fucking with me,” he said, his tone menacing.

“I’m not. I did some investigating this afternoon. I know who did it, but I need your word you’ll stay calm.”

His hands clutched my jacket in the next instant, and my breath caught when he pulled me closer. The prince shifted uneasily.

“You have three seconds,” he said.

“Wait, I’ll tell you, but I need you to promise you won’t hurt anyone.”

“Sure, okay,” he said, lying through his teeth.

Garrett had started toward us and I waved him back. When everyone turned to look at him, including Donovan, I made another gesture. I pointed my index finger in the air and made a quick circle, which was Garrett-speak for let’s wrap this up. If he picked up on my meaning, he’d get back in his truck and start it.

Donovan saw me gesture as well. He jerked me to attention as a couple of Bandits started toward Garrett.

“Wait,” I said. “It’s just a precaution. I don’t want to die today, okay?”

They all turned back to me as Garrett got back in his truck—every move reluctant—and started it up.

“Let me closer to Garrett. I’ll tell you, then I’ll leave.”

His eyes narrowed on me. “Do I look like a man who enjoys games?”

“Not at all, Donovan. I’m so sorry you’re going through this, but you’re angry and you’ll take things too far. A girl’s got a right to guarantee her own safety.”

When he glanced back at Garrett, I looked over Donovan’s shoulder to my left and leveled a cold hard stare on the guy who did it. He had stringy brown hair, a frizzy beard, and enough weight on him to make the run he was about to be forced into strenuous and most likely painful. The threat of imminent death should push him past the pain.

I wanted him to know that I knew, to worry. And he did. When his eyes widened a fraction of an inch in disbelief, I nodded so he would completely understand my meaning. Right as Donovan was turning back, I gestured to Garrett’s truck with my eyes, letting him know what I wanted him to do.

“Fine,” Donovan said, releasing my jacket with a soft shove. I stepped down and past the dog killer without trying to understand why he would do what he did. I flashed him a glare, then motioned toward the truck again. Slowly, so no one would notice, he backed that way.

When I was to the edge of the crowd, I turned back to them, trying to keep their attention locked on me. The biker was edging toward the truck, but I didn’t know how long I could put Donovan off, so I decided to improvise.

I rolled onto my toes, wrapped my arms around Donovan’s neck, and planted my mouth on his. He opened to me instantly. As angry as he was, he wasn’t about to pass up a chance at true love. Or an easy lay. He tasted clean with a hint of beer, and behind me I heard footsteps running across the street.

“Hey!” one of the guys yelled.

I broke off the kiss and watched the guy lumber across the street and jump into the bed of Garrett’s truck, but Garrett just sat there, waiting for me.

“Go!” I yelled.

He shook his head, and in that brief exchange, an army rushed toward the truck.

“Go!” I yelled again, rolling my eyes in frustration, and Garrett knew he had no choice. He threw his truck in reverse and peeled out to get away from the onslaught, then executed a wicked spin and tore down the street, rubber smoking a good fifty feet on the way.

They followed. A sea of leather ran down the street toward Garrett’s truck as it disappeared into the distance. Some went for their bikes. Some came back for orders. All speared me with glowers of distrust.

“Get him,” Donovan ordered before taking hold of my jacket a second time and dragging me, quite literally, into the house. Once again, the prince and Mafioso followed. We stumbled past broken furniture toward an office at the back. He slammed the door, but the two men following just opened it and let themselves in. I hoped I hadn’t underestimated Donovan. He was a good guy, but even seemingly good guys could have an uncontrollable temper underneath. Damned testosterone.

He shoved me into a chair, then started pacing. “Blake?” he said from between clenched teeth. “It was Blake?” He was actually directing his question to his seconds in command. Then he turned back to me. With an agility I hadn’t expected, he was in front of me at once, both hands on the arms of the chair around me, his face barely an inch from my own. “How did you know?”

“It’s difficult to explain,” I answered, my voice airy.

“You have one chance. Do you know him?”

“No. Please sit down.”

He jostled the chair to get my attention. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in right now?”

I swallowed hard. Shaking in my Dolce & Gabbanas, I glanced over at the prince. He seemed to feel bad for me, but I doubted he would go against his leader. Mafioso might, though. He seemed a bit less reverent.

“Donovan, if you’ll just sit down, I’ll explain.”

He crouched before me, keeping his hands locked on the chair. That was as good as I was going to get.

“I can feel things,” I said, trying to take deep, calming breaths. “I … know things by assessing the emotions radiating off people and analyzing their auras.”

“Don’t give me that New Age shit.”

“It’s not New Age. It’s old, actually. Very, very old.”

His brows drew together, wondering how much he should believe.

“You know how I can talk to Rocket?” I glanced at all three of them for validation. Mafioso shrugged. “It’s kind of like that. I sense things other people don’t. Like right now.” I looked back at him, a wrenching kind of sorrow making my heart heavy. “I can sense the pain that is completely consuming you. Those dogs were everything to you, and that guy, Blake, took that away.” I put my palm on his jaw. “Your pain is so strong, I can barely breathe under the weight of it.”

He leaned back a little, eyeing me warily, and I dropped my hand.

“It’s like you’re drowning in it, and I knew if you got ahold of the guy responsible for that kind of pain, you’d probably kill him.”