North leaned forward. “Liar.”
Oh, he was such a hippo-breath-jerk.
“You don’t have rickets,” North stated.
And he wasn’t a doctor. What did he know?
“Maybe not. But I’m sure being locked up down here has done wonders for my mental health. I wasn’t exactly a stable person before you kidnapped me. You know, after I was sold to a sadistic fuck and abused. And now look at me. I haven’t showered in days. I’ve got a rat’s nest for hair. Haven’t eaten properly and I’ve lost weight. And I’m threatening the two men who put me here.”
Yeah, that wasn’t a good idea. Maybe instead of threatening two dangerous men who held her life in their hands, she should be nice to them.
Uh. That was going to suck.
“So, how is your day going? Can I make you both a coffee?” she asked.
Nothing. Crickets. Jeez. If they didn’t want a coffee, they could have just said so instead of staring at her like she was crazy.
“Why are you asking us about coffee?” North asked.
“To be nice! So you let me go!”
“We will let you go once we can be sure that you will be looked after properly,” Jared stated. “Since you weren’t taken care of with Zander, we may have to look at alternative arrangements.”
20
“Alternative arrangements?” Angie asked. “What the heck does that mean?”
Jared sighed. He was tired of sitting on the floor.
God, his head hurt. It was thumping in time with his pulse. But he was pretty certain that he didn’t have a concussion.
He hoped, anyway.
Setting Angie aside was extremely hard, but he forced himself to slowly let her go. When she didn’t immediately pounce on North, he let her go completely and stood, holding out a hand to her.
Christ.
She was in a state.
Angie slid her hand into his. It was small and cold. He frowned. It wasn’t that cold in here. In fact it was almost too warm.
“Why are you so cold?” he demanded. Was it due to being ill? Or something else? “Are you still feeling ill? You look exhausted.”
“Please, stop with the compliments,” she grumbled.
“Answer him,” North commanded.
“Oh, go suck on a chili,” she told North.
Really? Suck on a chili?
“Angie,” Jared warned.
“I have poor circulation,” she muttered, looking almost . . . ashamed? Embarrassed?
Why would she be ashamed of that? It made no sense.
“Why? Is there something wrong with you?” Jared demanded. “Do you have an illness? Why have I not been informed of this?”
