All of the men abruptly stop talking, turning around to look at me as if I just interrupted a secret meeting. I spy a huge spread of breakfast food stretched out across the table, and at that moment, I know I’ve slept into the following day. Quinn is sitting off to the right, and I narrow my eyes on the bastard for drugging me like that.
Someone clears their throat, and out of the corner of my eye I see Travis scooting his chair away from the table. He hastily makes his way toward me as he speaks in a gruff voice, “Guys, give me a few minutes. I’ll be right back.” He reaches out and gently takes me by the elbow, and leans in to whisper in my ear, “Babe, you can’t come out dressed like that.” Oh, crap, I didn’t even realize that. Thank goodness his shirt comes down to my knees.
He ushers me quickly back down the hallway, out of sight. When we reach the bedroom door, he pauses to ask, “Can I get you some coffee or something to eat?” I look into his eyes and they seem a little off, like he’s hiding something.
“I am thirsty,” I softly reply.
He leans his head out the bedroom door, then shouts out toward the dining room, “Stryker, need you to bring Jules some OJ.”
He guides me into the bedroom, and sits down on the edge of the bed. He pats the empty space beside him, silently telling me to have a seat. I sit down on the edge of the bed with him, and for some reason, I feel unsettled. Maybe because there is an army of men out there and we’re on the run, but Travis is acting different.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“I’m doing fine,” I respond flatly, staring at the floor.
“I hate that answer, you know that? Fine means you’re doing shitty,” he retorts, leaning in close to me.
I pull away and turn to look at him with a scowl on my face. “What do you want me to say, Travis? Too many things have unfolded in the past twenty-four hours for me to process anything. Not to mention, I was knocked out with God knows what drug since noon yesterday.”
He looks away from me, and hopefully it’s shame that fills him. “I’m sorr—”
“Save it.” I hold my hand up, interrupting him. “I want answers, and I want a phone call,” I demand.
He narrows his eyes, looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Yeah, I can’t let you have either,” he says sternly.
“No? What the hell, Travis? No?!” My voice escalates with indignation as he raises an eyebrow at my outburst. “I can’t believe you’re going to deny me.” My throat constricts, and my upper lip snarls. “You’re a real bastard.”
At that very second, Stryker loudly clears his throat, purposely interrupting, and we both turn to look at him as he stands in the doorway holding my glass of orange juice.
I give him the evil eye, and at least he has the regard to act a little penitent for being part of Travis’ game. He walks into the room and hands the orange juice to Travis, which is a smart move. I have the desire to toss the drink in their faces. It’s a coin toss at the moment as to which one.
I turn to face Travis with a heated scowl. “My father needs to know I’m safe. This is my life we’re talking about here, my own flesh and blood, and you won’t even give me the courtesy of a phone call?”
Stryker’s lips thin as if he wants to say something, but he holds back, letting Travis handle the situation. Travis grabs my hands and looks at me with pleading eyes, which is odd. Since we had been invaded, he’s been in warrior-mode the entire time, not showing a speck of his soft side.
“Nothing is safe right now, Jules,” he explains. “The only safe place for you right now is here with me, by my side 24/7.”
I scoff and jerk my hands out from under his. “Is that so? How convenient,” I mock. “I’m surprised you’re not drugging me with more Blyss right now…or did you forget to put that in your backpack?” I hiss. I look at my wrists and make another snide remark. “What? No restraints? You’re slipping, Travis. I’m surprised there’s not a dead bolt on the door, too.”
Stryker steps in front of me, coming to Travis’ rescue, and interrupts, “Jules, you’re not being fair here.”
I raise both brows, staring indignantly at Stryker and his audacity. Who the hell does he think he is? I cross my arms over my chest defensively. “Well, do tell then, Stryker. I’d seriously like to know what you think is fair. How about I rip you apart from everything you’ve ever known and loved, and then drug you. Oh, yeah, then let’s top that scenario off by having you shoot and kill another man, all for a criminal you already know is going to keep holding you hostage.”