I wadded up the loose material and shoved it into his mouth, in lieu of a better gag, then pushed him beneath the bed. If someone looked for more than a second they’d find him—especially if he woke up and struggled—but at a glance, the room would look empty, once I was gone.

The plan had been for Marc and Jace to take care of the guard outside my window, but they obviously weren’t free yet, which was the biggest inconvenience in my impromptu prison break. Well, that, and the fact that I wasn’t wearing a coat, which meant I was gonna freeze my ass off outside.

I knelt at the head of the left-hand bed to peer out the window, but saw no sign of my guard, or of anyone else. My room faced the side yard—on the first floor, thankfully—and it was cold enough that everyone with an ounce of sense had gone inside. In fact, I could hear the muted crackle-roar of a fire from the main room down the hall, along with the buzz of conversation that would hopefully disguise the few sounds of my escape.

The view from the second bed was the same, which meant my guard had either left his post or was standing right beside one of the windows where I couldn’t see him, waiting to bash me over the head and turn me in.

To test the theory, I took a deep, calming breath and unlocked the window, then pulled it open a couple of inches and gasped at the stinging cold. If the guard showed up, I’d say I wanted some fresh air.

But no one came, so I opened it a little more and stuck my head out. The yard was empty.

It was probably a trap. What were the chances that I happened to make my escape during the guard’s only bathroom break?

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

I turned toward the unfamiliar voice and smacked the back of my head on the bottom of the windowsill. “Shit!” Rubbing my scalp, I watched the guard jog toward me, carrying a travel mug steaming through the vent hole. One of Malone’s men. I knew him by sight—he’d been there when we were “arrested”—but his name wouldn’t come. Terry? Tommy? Something with a T…

My pulse raced, and I struggled to control it. Not that he could hear very well with that thick hood on, surely.

Teddy! It came to me suddenly as he stomped closer, unzipping his jacket to show me the gun tucked into the front of his waistband. The idiot should have kept it ready.

“Ted, right?” I conjured up a smile, wondering how much he knew about me. How dangerous I was considered by toms I’d had no personal contact with.

His brows rose, then his dark eyes narrowed in the light spilling from the window over my head. He seemed both surprised and suspicious that I knew his name. “This ain’t a drive-through window. Get back in there.”

“Is that coffee?” My brain whirred, scrambling for the right words, a plausible explanation. “Could I possibly convince you to get me a cup? Alex is pretty stuck on this bread-and-water routine.”

“I’m not your fucking gopher.” He craned his neck, trying to look around me through the window. “Where is Alex, anyway?”

“Bathroom. They stuck some bull neck right outside the door.” I leaned farther out the window and eyed his mug. “Can I just have a sip of yours, then?”

Teddy hesitated, glancing from me to his insulated cup, then back. I rolled my eyes. “You must be the only tom in this complex who’s afraid of my germs. Everyone else seems pretty damned eager to catch anything I’m giving out. Which means you’re either a big scaredy-cat, or you’re really stingy with your coffee.” Or he wasn’t into girls. I shrugged and started to duck back into the room. “Fine. Keep your damn coffee.”

“Here.” He shoved the cup toward me, like most toms, eager to defend his manhood. “I hope you like it black.”

I grinned. “So long as it’s hot.” I swear, calling them “scared” works just as well as playing the boob card. Almost. So just for good measure, I gave him a nice, long look as I leaned halfway out the window again.

While he stared down my shirt, I reached for the coffee—and grabbed his wrist instead.

I pulled, hard. He grunted and flew toward me. Coffee sloshed. His face smooshed into the window over my head. I tugged his gun from his waistband.

“Whoa…” Ted dropped the coffee and started to back away.

“Don’t move,” I ordered.

He froze. “You don’t even know how to use that.”

“My dad learned to shoot in college, and he taught us all the basics.” A little truth with every lie is like salt on potatoes—it just goes down better that way. I raised one brow when he frowned in disbelief. “What? You thought you guys were the only ones shooting up paper deer? Think again.”

“You’re lying…”

I smiled. “What if I’m not?”

“They’ll bust in the minute they hear gunfire.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, but you’ll still be shot. As will the next fifteen people who come through that door. You want that on your head?”

“You’re not gonna kill ’em.”

“No, but I will shoot them. What’s Malone going to say when he finds out where I got the gun?”

Teddy hesitated, evidently trying to shoot fireballs from his eyes. “You’re a bitch.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking of having that put on some business cards. Now turn around and take a step back. You shout, and I’ll put a bullet through your shoulder.”

He didn’t move until I flicked off the safety, glad I’d seen both Dean and Alex do that earlier. And even more glad that they were evidently all carrying the same model gun. “Shit.” Teddy turned slowly, arms out at his sides.