by Lynsay Sands
"Oh." Tiny relaxed. He then cleared his throat, and asked carefully, "So, we aren't paying for the hotel room?"
Mirabeau's eyebrows rose at the question. His careful tone suggested he wasn't too comfortable with the idea, and she frowned over the matter, then shrugged and said, "When we get to Port Henry, I'll call Bastien, and he can send someone to take care of it."
Tiny nodded, his shoulders easing even farther in his suit jacket, and Mirabeau found herself staring at him curiously. Most people wouldn't have troubled themselves about borrowing a hotel room for a couple hours without paying for it, but she already knew from the countless tales Marguerite Argeneau had told her about this man that he had a thread of honor as strong as steel running through him. She found it somewhat refreshing.
"More like stupid," Stephanie muttered. "It's not like they'd notice. Obviously, no one's using the room she gave us."
"Rooms. I got us a suite," Mirabeau murmured, scowling at the girl. It was bad enough she kept reading her thoughts, but insulting Tiny just wasn't on in her books. The mortal was putting his life at risk to see the girl safely to Port Henry. A little gratitude wouldn't go amiss.
"Whatever," Stephanie mumbled, obviously still caught up in her own thoughts, but she also looked a bit chagrined, so she obviously got the silent reprimand in Mirabeau's thoughts.
"Am I missing something?" Tiny asked quietly, drawing her gaze again.
"Nothing important," Mirabeau assured him, as the elevator doors opened.
Chapter Five
The suite was two normal hotel rooms connected by a living/dining area, with a dining table and chairs at one end and a couch, chair, and television at the other. It wasn't very grand, but then the hotel wasn't exactly one of the grand ones either.
It would do for their needs, Mirabeau decided as she glanced over their accommodations.
"I get this room," Stephanie announced peering into the bedroom on the right. She then turned and arched an eyebrow as she asked, "Which one of you gets the other and which one takes the couch?"
"Nice try," Mirabeau growled, tossing the packet of room keys on the dining table. "You and I get that room. Tiny gets the other."
"No way. I'm not sleeping with you," she protested at once. "You probably snore."
Mirabeau scowled, her patience snapping, but before she could blast her, Tiny said lightly, "I wouldn't be so hasty. Your options are Mirabeau in the second bed in your room, or me...And I do snore." When Stephanie opened her mouth, probably to protest further, he added, "It's that or we go find the SUV right now and head out as we are. You can't be left alone until we get you safely to Port Henry. There's still a chance Leonius or one of his men could find us."
Stephanie snapped her mouth closed, then huffed, "Fine. Mirabeau then. But I'm telling Lucian how awful you two are as bodyguards." She whirled away, adding, "I'm taking a bath. A long one. You both stink, and I can't stand it anymore." On that charming note, she stomped into the bathroom of the room she was to share with Mirabeau and slammed the door behind her.
Mirabeau growled and started forward, murder on her mind, but Tiny caught her arm. When she turned furiously on him, he said
soothingly, "You can use my bathroom."
"She--" Mirabeau began, but he interrupted.
"Is a teenager who was kidnapped, subjected to who knows what horrors, and turned against her will. In the process, she lost her whole family except her sister and she's now losing her, at least temporarily, while she's hidden away in some podunk town in southern Ontario."
Mirabeau found a smile tugging at her lips at his words. "Podunk?"
"Her word," he said wryly.
Mirabeau nodded. She hadn't paid attention to what they were discussing but had been aware that Tiny and Stephanie had chatted quietly as they'd traveled through the tunnels. It seemed that the girl had been airing her grievances, and she did have more than her fair share. Stephanie had been through a lot, Mirabeau acknowledged, and forced herself to relax. She took a deep, cleansing breath, then murmured, "You're very patient with her."
"I'm a patient guy." He grinned, and Mirabeau found herself relaxing completely and grinning back. The moment she did, Tiny patted the arm he'd grabbed, then stepped away. "Go on. Take a bath in my room. Take as long as you want. I'm going to go out and see if I can scrounge up some food for us."
Mirabeau bit her lip as she watched him walk to the door, suddenly worried about his being on his own. She didn't think anyone had followed them, but there was a slight possibility they had, and she didn't like the idea of his being alone if that were the case. She also knew saying so probably wasn't the smart thing to do. The guy wouldn't appreciate her fretting over him as if he couldn't take care of himself, so instead she said, "Don't you want to at least shower or something first?"
"And get back into these stinky clothes?" Tiny asked dryly, pausing at the door. He glanced back to peer at her and smiled faintly. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Take a bath, then maybe talk to Stephanie."
"Talk to her?" Mirabeau asked with dismay, forgetting her worry for him. "What about?"
"About what she's been through," he said quietly. "Other than her sister, you can probably help her more than anyone."
"Me?" Mirabeau squeaked with disbelief. "What makes you think I--?"
"Because you lost your entire family at a young age too, didn't you?" he said quietly. "Of anyone, you should understand at least part of what she's going through."
Mirabeau felt herself closing up. It was as if something was squeezing tight around her. The slaughter of her family was a subject she never allowed herself to think of. She supposed Marguerite had told him about it for some reason or other,
but she didn't appreciate it and didn't know how to respond other than to say almost resentfully, "Her family is still alive."
"But she can never see them again. She can never enjoy their love and support again," he pointed out quietly.
"She has Dani," Mirabeau insisted grimly.
"Not at the moment, she doesn't," Tiny said, then added quietly, "Talk to her. She's as alone and lonely as you."
This time Mirabeau didn't stop him from leaving but simply watched the door close behind him while a small storm of emotion rolled through her. Alone and lonely? Where the hell had he gotten that idea? And there was a vast difference between Stephanie and her. While the girl couldn't, or at least shouldn't, approach her family now that she'd been turned, she at least knew they lived, could check on them from time to time and reassure herself of their happiness. However, Mirabeau's entire family--mother, father, and three brothers--were all dead, along with the once-favored uncle who had killed them. She had no one, she thought, turning to enter the room Tiny was to use.