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I hear Violet laugh again behind us.

I check through the window beside the door before opening it.

A man stands on the porch holding a takeout bag. I saw him the night Callie brought me here. He looks considerably less alarmed this time.

That changes when I open the door.

We stare at each other. Neither of us speaks.

“Roman,” Callie says from behind me.

“You’re Drew, right?”

He looks startled. “Yes.” His eyes flick past me. “Is Violet here?”

“Yep,” Callie says.

He lifts the takeout bag. “I picked up dinner on my way home. I texted her, but she didn't answer.”

Violet appears behind Callie. “Sorry. Things got a little⁠—”

Drew holds up his hand and looks at me again. “Now I know why.”

Callie squeezes past me. “Drew, this is Roman.”

“We've technically met,” I say.

“You were unconscious,” Drew says.

“Not the entire time.”

Drew considers that. “True.”

Callie gestures between us like she's hosting a fucking dinner party instead of standing in the middle of a potential threat.

“Roman, Drew. Drew, Roman.” Then she smiles. “Roman's the hitman.”

I glower at her.

Drew's brows draw together. He looks alarmed. “The what?”

Fuck. Me.

Callie's smile falters. “Did I not tell you that?”

“No. Although you mentioned it at the restaurant. I thought you were being sarcastic.”

“Huh.”

Violet stares at her. “You told me he might be a method actor. Or a hitman. I thought he was a hitman method actor.”

“You’re partially right.”

“You neglected the part where he kills people for money.”

Callie considers that. “In my defense, I've had a lot going on.”

“You told me you handcuffed yourself to him!”