Page 71 of Talk to Me
“If you prefer I continue to use Patch, I will.” A flicker of disagreement flashed in the way he compressed his lips. “But that said, I like your name.”
Reconciling that name with our current circumstances was taking me a minute. Apparently, everything was going to take me a minute right now. Remy returned with a plate and a fresh carafe of coffee.
Remy had said very little, letting Locke and McQuade do most of the talking. Yet, the weight of his assessment seemed to press in on me. He said a great deal by saying very little.
The plate held a couple of sandwiches. They were thick with cheese and— “Ham?” The question seemed almost inane, yet I was curious.
“Something simple. You mentioned it once.” The precise intonation in his accent was sexy as hell. “I believe you said you could slap ham and cheese on wheat and eat it dry if you had too.”
It wasn’t remotely funny and yet, another laugh tried to break loose from the debris inside. “I’m going to guess it’s not dry?”
For a moment, it almost seemed like he wouldn’t answer then he gave a fairly graceful shrug. “Take a bite. Find out.”
I had set my mug down to take the plate and he refilled it, then his own before he set the carafe down for the others. Adding nothing more to his advice, he reclaimed the chair closer to me.
They were all right there, forming this loose but attentive circle around me. Their presence seemed to elicit confusion even as it aroused a tempest of feelings in me I wasn’t prepared to address.
Frankly, I didn’t even think I was qualified to address them. Their presence compromised me on so many levels but without them, I would still be in that hellhole. Had I gotten out of the cell? Yes. Had I made it to the ground level? Also yes.
But I’d been fading fast and that adrenaline would only take me so far. I had no idea what had been beyond those doors. Exhaustion clawed at me despite the coffee and the hours of sleep I’d already had.
“Hey.” McQuade’s gentle verbal prod shivered under my defenses and I blinked at him much as I had Locke when the latter used my name. “Eat. You look ready to pass out again. You need fuel.”
I did need fuel.
“We need answers,” he continued as I lifted the sandwich to take a bite. As much as the reminder could have stymied my appetite, I didn’t let it impede me taking a bite of the food. I needed the distraction as much for my stomach as for keeping my mouth full so I couldn’t answer.
The first bite was almost too much. The flavors overwhelmed my abused palate. A little mustard, ham, and cheese. The ham was salty. The cheese was cheddar and very sharp. The mustard had a bit of a kick to it. The wheat bread was probably the blandest thing and even it seemed to tease my tongue.
What food I’d been allowed had been tasteless, textureless, and for the most part—disgusting. I’d almost forgotten how good a sandwich could be. I followed the first bite with another. Then another.
I meant to keep the bites small and proportional, but my stomach threatened to cramp. Even chewing every bite thoroughly, I still couldn’t eat it fast enough. Finished with the first sandwich, I reclaimed my coffee cup and forced myself to take a sip.
The IV bags they’d kept me on had obviously rehydrated me. It hadn’t done a damn thing to dampen my appetite. The silence registered a heartbeat later and I found all three watching me with varying degrees of amusement.
“The sandwich was quite good,” I told Remy. “I really liked the mustard.”
“Duly noted,” he murmured, his deadpan expression not shifting in the slightest. “Though if you’d eaten it with that gusto and hadn’t cared for it—I would absolutely go make you something else.”
Another laugh worked its way free and the heavy pane of glass that seemed to be cutting me off from the world cracked. McQuade chuckled and even Locke laughed.
“To be fair,” I admitted, the coolness in Remy’s hazel eyes almost dared me to respond. The brown was far more amber in color and there were gold flecks in his eyes that seemed to gleam. “Whether I liked it or not, this is almost a five-star meal compared to the last few—I don’t even know if it’s been days or weeks.”
“At least ten days,” Locke told me.
“I am leaning more toward two weeks,” Remy countered.
McQuade shrugged. “Too fucking long is the correct answer.”
Murmured assents came from the other two.
“Agreed,” I said, finally. “I—I don’t like how easily you found where I lived. It tells me I left gaps in my security.” I grimaced. “Not that their breaking in didn’t reveal that to me.”
I still couldn’t believe how easily they’d sprung that trap. It had to have come in via one of my deliveries. How else had they gotten inside without tripping my security? They’d been there when I opened the secure door.
“How many?” Locke asked and I frowned. The sharp cold dump of adrenaline as the fear struck and sent ice racing over my skin had swamped me even in retrospect.
“I don’t know precisely,” I said, trying to reconcile the men in the dark masks and clothes. They’d had on heavy Kevlar. Even if I’d been able to get ahold of my taser, I doubt it would have penetrated.