I yanked my hand away, stinging from the roadkill comment. “I had good backup,” I said and went to the coffee table. I reached for the bottle of ibuprofen, but Val snatched it up first.
Val wrenched off the lid and shook several pills out into his palm. “Don’t you need something stronger than this?”
I motioned for him to hand over the pills. “I’ve had stronger. These will do for now.” Tossing my head back, I swallowed the capsules dry.
Val shoved his hands into his pockets. “Let me know when those kick in.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m driving you home.”
I hoped I had misunderstood. “North Carolina is a really long drive.”
“My place,” Val said in a way that dared me to challenge him.
I turned my attention to the TV while considering my reply and recognized the actors from a syndicated crime show. Two men in CSI jackets knelt over a black body bag. I took a deep breath and let it out. “No.”
From the corner of my eye, I watched Val go still. I imagined steam leaking from his ears. “No?”
“I don’t want to sleep on your sofa anymore.”
“You’re always welcome to the bed.”
“Whose bed, Val? No matter what you say, you can’t expect Hugh and Joe to give up their space for me.” In offering these less-than-convincing excuses, I aimed for diplomacy. I was irritated with Val for his evasiveness and secrecy. He was pretending to be something he wasn’t, although I didn’t know exactly what that something was. After the past four months and all his attempts to get closer to me, I deserved better from him. But confronting Val might raise his defenses and put more distance between us when, more than anything, I needed him to be unguarded and open.
Thorin had withheld information, too, but he hadn’t made a claim on my affections or my friendship. Unlike Val, he had never attempted to foster any kind of relationship with me. And why should he? He was the Boss Man—Mani’s employer. End of story. Before coming to Alaska, Thorin had been nothing more to me than a vague and distant authority figure, and I doubted a substantial thought about me had ever crossed his mind. And yet, Thorin was the one who’d taken me away from the wolf attack. He patched up my wounds and watched over me. I had stayed in this apartment for the past few days without incident. No whiff of wolf or other malicious intents. If I wasn’t safe here, would I be safe anywhere?
“You’ll take my room,” Val said. “If you’re going to be stubborn about it, I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
Thorin stepped further into the room, noiseless and graceful as ever. “This apartment is secure, more secure than your place. I’ve seen to it that all access points have been reinforced. She’ll stay here.”
“Reinforced?” I said. “How?” Even in my semi-unconscious state, I would have noticed construction guys installing steel doors or whatever. I looked about the room, but everything about the apartment looked the same as the first time I’d seen it. Both men ignored my question. Big surprise.
Val stiffened his spine, threw back his shoulders, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Who are you to say?”
Thorin smirked. “You know very well who.”
The chemistry flowing between Thorin and Val spoke of something older and more personal than employee and employer. Tension crackled between them, and while part of me wanted to see how far they might push each other, the larger part of me lost patience. I stuck my fingers between my lips and whistled like a referee. “Hey, guys, look. I wish I could say I was flattered by all the manly posturing on my behalf, but I’m not, and I think you’re not really arguing about who’s got a better chance at getting laid. Why are you so interested in my welfare? And don’t tell me it’s because of my charm and good looks.”
Both men turned to face me, a formidable wall of masculinity. I shivered and then cringed when that hurt. Val opened his mouth first. “Mani—” he began.
I put up my hand to stop him. “Don’t use my brother as an excuse. You two aren’t talking about putting my butt on a plane to North Carolina anymore. Something has changed. I want to know what it is.”
I read the obstinacy on their faces plain as newsprint. “Nobody trusts anybody, do they?” I grumbled.
Val uncrossed his arms and leaned a hip against the sofa arm. “For a good reason, Solina. This is a dangerous game you’ve gotten in the middle of.”
“I might stand a better chance of surviving if you’d explain the rules.”
Thorin stepped further into the room. “They’ll figure it out anyway.”
“They?” Val asked.
“Skyla isn’t going to stop asking questions. She’s smart. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Screw Skyla,” Val said and then jabbed his finger at Thorin. “And that goes for you too.” He spun on his heel and glared at me. “Stay here, then, Solina. I hope we don’t all come to regret it.” Val blew out of the apartment, the door banging shut behind him like a gun shot.
My gaze slid to Thorin, who stood in the room calm and still as if nothing had happened. “What was that about?”
Thorin motioned to the sofa. “Please sit. I’ll bandage your shoulder for you.”
Too tired to argue, I sank onto the sofa and passed Thorin the first aid kit. I peeled back the collar of my robe and turned my head. A moment later his steady fingers blotted ointment onto the rough patches, and his touch sent shivers over my skin.
“Is it cold?”
“No,” I said and changed the subject. “I don’t know what Val expects from me. He’s been generous and caring in the past, but for some reason I don’t trust him.” I glared at Thorin from the corner of my eye. “I don’t trust you either.”
Thorin’s chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. “Then you’re smarter than I thought.”
I ignored his not-so-subtle insult. “There are a lot of things you aren’t telling me. Like how you knew where to find me out there in the woods. How did you know I was in trouble? Were you following us?”
Thorin deflected my accusation by asking a question. “Tell me about the dream you had the night your brother was killed.”
“Why should I?”
He laid a strip of bandage over my shoulder. “I am not Thor,” he said. “Thor and Odin died during Ragnarok.”
Thorin had diverged onto a path I didn’t expect, but I followed after him, hoping it would make sense eventually. “The apocalypse, right?”
