Page 39 of Princess of Thieves

Will doesn’t meet my eyes. I look hard at him. “I’m not his fiancée,” I add.

“Yeah, and who’s gonna contradict that?” Will says. “You’re gonna just reappear and denounce all of that? He’ll just have you arrested for stealing a car.”

“Goddammit.” Will’s right. I rub my forehead. This isn’t good. I thought it would be easy to lay low, get my affairs together, and start some kind of new life, but that was before I became a missing person.

“Order up,” Tuck says and sets a plate in front of me, absolutely overflowing with breakfast food—creamy scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, two juicy sausage patties, fried tomatoes still on the stem, a biscuit covered in butter and what smells like raspberry jam.

“Good God, man, that’s twice the size of her head,” Will mutters.

Tuck looks bashful. “I didn’t want her to go hungry.”

I look up at him and give him a smile. “I appreciate it, Tuck. It looks great.”

He grins. “Thanks, Maren. Anything for you.” He plunks down some silverware, and I don’t waste a second before attacking the food. I don’t know what’s come over me, but my appetite is roaring to go. Even LJ, from his stance at the door, notices as Tuck puts down a second plate for him.

“All yours,” Tuck says.

LJ nods. “Thanks.” He sits down and silently forks up a bite or two, eyes watching me the whole time. Actually, all of them are watching me, which makes me strangely self-conscious. I pause and look down at my plate, now three-quarters empty.

“Damn,” I whisper.

“Gisbourne not feeding you or something?” Will comments.

“No, he did,” I say. “Although nothing any good. Lots of vegetables and low-fat shit. Not like this.”

Tuck winces. “That pains me to hear. Fat’s a necessary macronutrient.”

“Save it, Bill Nye,” Will says. “As long as you’re feeling better, Maren.”

I nod. The world feels back on its axis a little bit. Everything steadier under my feet, even if I do have to deal with this new reality of being a kidnappee.

“I guess so,” I say. I rake my fingers through my hair, sighing. “I’ve got a lot to take care of, and I don’t even know where to—”

I trail off mid-sentence as someone slips in through the back door to the balcony. It’s Rob, no longer in disguise, just wearing what he always does—a V-neck green shirt, beat-up old jeans, work boots. His eyes look hollow but intense, and they burn right into me. I look away, unable to return his gaze, unable tosee him. If I’m honest, it hurts too much—a pulsing wound I just want to bind down with pressure and never think about again.

“Morning,” Tuck ventures, the only one of us to speak.

I glance up just in time to see Rob give him a nod, throw one more stare at me, and then stalk off through the entryway. We all sit in silence as his footsteps fade. I glance over my shoulder, just briefly, then back at the table. Still, no one says anything, and a sudden wave of rage crashes over me.

“Is he not going to fucking apologize?” I spit out, slamming my hands on the table. “Seriously?”

Tuck chews his lip. LJ lets out a snort. Will sighs.

“He’s not really like that, Maren,” Will says slowly, shaking his head ruefully. “I don’t know what to tell you. I wish he would. He knows he needs to, but...” He lets out a breath. “Look, we’re all just glad you’re safe, okay? And you don’t have to see him if you don’t want to. Anything you need, we’re here.”

“Okay,” I say. It’s not what I want to hear, but I don’t know what I even want to hear. “Thanks.”

“We’re here,” Tuck echoes. “If involves food or computers, you know who to ask.”

I take another gulp of coffee, the wheels in my mind turning.

“Actually, come to think of it, I could use your help with some computer stuff.”

“AND THAT SHOULD ABOUTdo it,” Tuck says, dusting off his hands like he’s just completed a difficult feat of manual labor instead of typing for a good 20 minutes in the office.

“Thanks,” I say. “So this is super private?”

“As private as it gets,” Tuck says. “Encrypted email. You’ll only be able to check your inbox from this machine, but—”

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