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It took all of my self-control not to shoot forward and chug the scolding liquid. Instead, with purposeful control, I curled my fingers around the handle and raised the mug as slowly as Garrison had.
My first sip nipped my tongue with a burning sensation, but the rich, nutty sweetness smoothed out the pain in an instant. Fucking hell,it tasted like heaven.
“Is it good?” Garrison asked with a glint in his hazel eyes that suggested he could already tell just how much I was enjoying it.
“It’s great,” I said, restraining my enthusiasm, and allowed myself a larger swallow. Some small piece of me asked in a very tiny voice whether it would really be so bad to hang out with these guys a while longer, especially if I could talk them into sharing several more mugs like this with me, and I told it to shut up too.
Talon ambled over, his gaze shooting daggers at Garrison. “Now that you have some fucking hot chocolate, do you plan on answering some of our questions?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, watching for his reaction. “I never asked you to bring me here. I don’t think I owe you anything.”
He scowled. “I think you owe us a little more of an explanation after we saved your ass.”
Garrison clucked his tongue chidingly and shot me a conspiratorial smile. My hackles automatically went up again. Did he think he’d won me over just because I was enjoying what he’d poured in this mug?
“What I think my friend here meant to say,” he drawled in a teasing tone, “is that we want to make sure you’re not in any danger right now. Julius says your stash of money and jewelry came from a boyfriend? Is he likely to be out there searching for you?”
My non-existent boyfriend would probably have run screaming at the sight of just Talon’s glare, but I wasn’t going to prop up the guy’s ego by saying so. I sipped my hot chocolate, distracted by a momentary swoon. A weakness, maybe. Delicious? Absolutely.
“Nah,” I said, putting on a shudder as if remembering something that bothered me. “He liked to push me around when I was there, but he’s probably too high to get much past the front door.” I cut my gaze to Talon. “Yes, it’s a bad fucking neighborhood. I grew up there. Is that a crime now?”
Often with assholes the best way to get what you wanted was to put them on the defensive. They weren’t used to it. And the truth was, I felt more at ease talking to Talon with his body carved out of muscle and snarling face than Garrison with his kindness I couldn’t help being suspicious of. At least with the guard dog, I knew where I stood.
“It’s pretty strange that you don’t have anyone at all you need us to call,” Talon said, seeming unfazed. “No family? No job? All you’ve got is this man of yours?”
I bit my lip. I might not have any experience with romantic relationships, but I had plenty of grief and horror to draw on thanks to last night’s events. “That’s all he let me have,” I said in a small voice, as if ashamed.
“You really need to let up on her,” Garrison said to Talon, swatting at him, and turned back to me with a gentler expression. “The guy sounds like a total prick. Is it because of him that you’ve got all those scars?”
All those scars. A shiver traveled down my spine. “How do you know I have scars?”
I already knew the answer. They must have looked me over—including under my clothes—while I was unconscious. Had they touched me?
But somehow Garrison managed to look even more horrified than I felt. “Oh, God, don’t get the wrong idea! While we were carrying you in, your shirt rode up a little, that’s all. It was hard not to notice them.”
For real? I couldn’t put my finger on anything, but something about his demeanor kept rubbing me just a smidge the wrong way.
“Just answer the question,” Talon snapped.
“Why?” I asked with the sudden sense I was being interrogated. The questions were starting to go beyond what anyone would be concerned about with a stranger who’d theoretically be walking out of their lives any minute now. “I already told you that you don’t have anything to worry about. It’s not like anyone even knows I’m here.”
Which was the point, wasn’t it? Why were all of them so intent on questioning me in their own ways? Sure, they may have been concerned about who they brought into their home, but if they’d actually been worried, they could have kicked me out right now. They could have dropped me at the hospital despite my original protests.
Unless they thought I’d done something worse than steal some crap from an abusive boyfriend. The massacre at the household must be all over the news by now. Had they realized I’d been coming from that direction, wondered about the blood on my shirt and my loot because of that?
Did they think I’d committed the murders?
