A door slammed (the bathroom, I assumed).
For a few minutes there was no noise except for some rustling behind me, then the squeaking sound of what I assumed was some sort of a cart being wheeled in, chairs being moved, then, “All right, Masters, I’m coming back for this in exactly one hour. When I knock on the door again, you’d better still have your f**king pants on.”
“Can I turn around now?” I asked him, my tone wry.
“Go ahead.”
I turned my head, taking in the situation with a few confused blinks.
A makeshift table for two had been set up for us on a meal cart, with a white tablecloth, and what even looked like decent food.
Heath hovered in the door. I’d clearly heard the sound of at least two men setting this up, though they hadn’t spoken.
They were gone now.
All of this was beyond bizarre. Why had he brought me here, and why the hell had he set up what looked like a romantic dinner for Iris and me?
“One hour,” Heath repeated, backing out of the door.
“Wait,” I said.
“What?” he snapped.
“Thank you for taking bullets for her,” I told him, finding the words very hard to get out. “And for bringing me to her.”
“I didn’t do any of it for you. If you weren’t reading the subtle signs, I f**king hate you. I did it for her. Now eat your dinner, and keep your f**king pants on.”
With that neat little tirade, he slammed the door shut, then bolted it.
CHAPTER SIX
I hadn’t even gotten up from the floor when Iris came back out of the bathroom.
She seemed just as confused about the dinner setup as I was.
“Why?” I asked her as I got up from the floor.
She shrugged. “Who knows why Heath does the things he does? I learned a long time ago not to even try to understand it.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
“How long have you been mixed up with this guy?” I asked as I pulled out her chair, seating her at the table.
She sent me one of her looks, like I should know better than to ask. “I can’t tell you that.”
Well, at least she hadn’t lied.
I sat down, taking in the table setting. It didn’t fit our surroundings at all, in fact, was way too nice for a dump like this. The hotel was cheapness personified, whereas the silverware and plates looked like something my mother would use at a formal dinner. Like so many things going on here, it made no sense.
“How long have you been staying in this dump?” I asked her.
She just shook her head, looking down at her plate.
I hadn’t figured she’d answer that one, either.
The food was decent. In fact, it was actually quite good, flavorful beef ravioli in a rich cream sauce, with a full basket of garlic bread that had me reaching for seconds, and then thirds.
“At least they’re feeding you well,” I told her, studying her as she ate like she was starved. “Why are you losing weight?”
She grimaced slightly, then kept eating.
I set down my fork, jaw clenched so hard it ached. “Was it because of your injury?”
Finally she looked up at me. “That was probably it. I’m eating fine now. I’ll gain the weight back in no time.”
She caught my tense expression, returning it with her own. “You’re not allowed to start treating me like a child now, just because I’m younger than you thought I was.”
That was so out of line that I went back to eating just so I wouldn’t say something I’d regret later.
“We shouldn’t fight. We only have a few more hours together,” she said quietly.
I set my fork and knife down again. “Stop saying that, and get it through your stubborn head that I’m not leaving you here.”
“You don’t have a choice. Neither of us do.”
“There are always choices,” I said, tone ominous. I’d take that f**ker out with my bare hands, if that’s what needed to be done.
“So you’re going to try to fight him, when he tells you it’s time to leave?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. She knew what I intended.
In what I assumed was exactly one hour, Heath came back to clear the table from the room.
I still had my pants on.
“Back up to the wall, hands above your head,” he told me as he came into the room.
I did it, toying with the idea of making an escape attempt right then and there. Would I get a better chance?
“Did she eat all of that herself?” he asked after he’d studied her empty plate for a long moment.
The two of them were looking at each other tensely, and as usual, I had no idea what was going on.
“She did. Why?”
His jaw clenched as he swung his icy pale eyes to glare at me. “She didn’t tell you? She’s been on a hunger strike. Care to know why?”
I nodded, feeling my stomach drop.
“She refused to eat until I let her see you again. So congratulations. You’re the reason she’s wasting away. Is that a nice stroke to your ego?”
I was ignoring him by the end, my eyes boring into her. “Iris,” I said softly, feeling so helpless. “Don’t do that again. Please.”
Her stubborn chin was set. “I won’t, okay? I just . . . couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Don’t,” Heath warned her, as though she’d said too much even with that short, cryptic statement. “Masters, go wait in the bathroom for a minute.”
I looked between the two of them.
Iris waved me on. “It’s all right, Dair. He won’t hurt me.”
“Do it, or I’ll separate you two,” he growled.
I did it, putting my ear to the door the second it was closed.
They were arguing, voices tense but too quiet for me to make out any actual words.
It didn’t last long, and as soon as they grew quiet, I heard the other door open and then shut.
I came out.
Iris was closing the top drawer of the nightstand closest to the outside door. She straightened and whirled as she heard me enter, slamming it shut tight with her knee.
I didn’t give it a second thought. It was one of those things that I’d remember later and have a sort of aha moment, but at that moment, all I cared about was being alone again with her.