I made a beeline for the sustenance. “Corn, beans, fruit, chili,” I read, twisting a few of the labels so I could see what they were. “Rourke, you could open your own restaurant up here: Cute Cabin Cuisine.” I grabbed a can of chili. “Mind if I eat this cold?” I eyed the small propane camping stove in the corner, but honestly, it would take too long at this point.
“You can eat anything you’d like. Have at it.” Rourke’s arm threaded around my waist, surprising me enough to jump. Dammit. I had to quit reacting to him.
He slid an old, rickety drawer open right next to where I stood and pulled out a can opener. He handed it to me, eyes dancing. “You may want to use this instead of your teeth. It’s a little more civilized.”
I ignored him, swiping the opener from his hands.
While the drawer was still open, I plucked out a fork and headed for the small table. I sat in one of the two chairs. “I’ll show you what civilized looks like, cat.” I used the can opener, and once the lid was off, I dipped my fork in and immediately drew out a big fat forkful. With a full mouth, I asked, “Ith that where you theep?” I used the tip of my fork to point upward in case he couldn’t catch my meaning.
His gaze flicked to the small loft. A single mattress of indeterminate size lay there, covered in what appeared to be an aged patchwork quilt. “Yep, that’s where the bedroom is.”
“Ith cute,” I said over another mouthful.
Rourke pushed off the countertop where he’d been standing and came to sit in a rocking chair by the fireplace. The only other furniture in the room. He looked massive and out of place in the obviously fragile antique. It’d probably been handcrafted by the cabin’s original owner.
He looked like Gulliver sitting in a chair leagues too small.
I stifled a giggle with another bite of chili.
Then I sat back and ate the rest of the cold meat and beans. As my brain calmed and my stomach stopped aching, I sobered considerably. It’d been easy to focus on the tough climb and trying to lose our scent trail, but what the hell was I doing here?
This wasn’t a happy vacation in the mountains with my lover. My Pack was at war—a war sparked because of me—and I had to quit screwing around. I’d followed Rourke up here, like a good girl who’d been ordered by her father, but now it was time to figure out my next move. And in order to do that, I had to gather some facts.
Starting with Rourke.
I finished the chili, set the can and fork down on the table, and turned decisively toward him. He seemed to be patiently waiting for me to finish my meal. His face was quiet, almost brooding. It seemed we’d both fallen into the same what-the-fuck-do-we-do-now mode.
I cleared my throat. “Okay, Rourke. It’s time to figure this thing out once and for all. I think our happy-talk quota is all used up, quite possibly forever. You got me here, saved me in a strange sense, made sure I stuck with you, and I’ve played along. Now I need you to give me the real reason why you’re helping me. This isn’t a game, this is my life, and I want to know the real deal. A trained mercenary does not help a damsel in distress, he avoids her like the plague. I am a burden to you, and mercs hate burdens. James’s sudden paradigm shift to trust you was abrupt. He had to have a good reason, or a damn good hunch about something. I want some answers to why you’re playing nice.”
Rourke shifted in his chair, his muscular arms gripping the rails as he slid himself forward until he rested at the edge. It was a miracle that thing held him. He set his elbows on his knees and waited a few beats before answering. “Irish was right to trust me. I brought you here because I owed your father a debt.”
Not what I was expecting.
He continued, “It hadn’t been my original plan, but it came along, so I took it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “My father didn’t mention you owed him any debt, and believe me, we discussed you in depth. If he felt he could’ve trusted you because you were beholden to him in some way, we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation. He would’ve arranged a closed meeting in a safe place. End of story. What you’re saying doesn’t ring true, Rourke.”
His mouth went up on one side, making him look cocky. “Cats and dogs play by different rules, sweetheart. What your father did for me had nothing to do with battle or war, which I believe a wolf holds above all else. After he did what he did, I made an oath to pay him back in kind. Irish must have found out about it somehow, or heard the rumors, or just guessed, but it doesn’t matter. This opportunity came along, so I took it.” He shrugged. “That’s all there is to it.”
“That doesn’t explain our meet-up in the first place. Saving my life because a war dropped unexpectedly into your lap, and you just happened to have a debt you needed to repay, doesn’t equal meeting me for drinks because you were hired to extract information. Those are two very separate things.” I sat straighter. “Listen, Rourke, I’m not expecting you to divulge every single detail to me, but I’m looking for answers to help preserve my life. Nothing more.” He stared at me so intently, my breath caught for a moment. I cleared my throat. “Please, I need to know,” I said softly.