She didn’t need a third invitation. Valerie sat down, glancing around with a start when Anders moved up behind her chair to shift it in for her. It was an old-fashioned, courtly gesture that she didn’t recall ever having witnessed outside of old movies. She’d certainly never enjoyed it herself until now . . . and for some reason it left her a little flustered.
“Thank you,” she muttered, embarrassed when her voice came out raspy.
When Anders merely grunted in response, Leigh pursed her lips and said dryly, “He’s a man of few words.”
Valerie smiled crookedly and turned her attention to the bowl of food in front of her. The most delicious aroma was coming from it, and her stomach was growling impatiently and tying itself in knots demanding she feed it. She scooped up a spoonful of the fragrant meal and raised it to her lips for a tentative taste. She could have wept when the flavor burst on her tongue. It was hearty and so flavorful. Definitely homemade. Valerie dug in with enthusiasm.
“Slow down, woman,” Leigh said on a laugh a moment later. “I’m pleased you’re enjoying my cooking, but you haven’t eaten in a while. Your stomach may not be able to handle too much too fast.”
Valerie grimaced, but set her spoon down for a moment to allow her food to settle. She drank some milk while she waited, something she hadn’t had since she was a kid, but she figured it couldn’t hurt. Milk was good for you, right? Unfortunately, things that were good for you often didn’t taste good. Valerie didn’t care for milk and set it back with a grimace after one sip.
“Valerie?”
“Hmmm?” She glanced to Leigh in question.
“The other women were fed one meal daily. But when Dani examined you, she seemed to think you hadn’t eaten for a while.”
“I was given oatmeal and fruit once a day like the other women,” Valerie said slowly. “But I figured out that the oatmeal was drugged to keep us docile, so I stopped eating. The night I called 911 was the fourth night I didn’t eat.”
“And they let you simply not eat?” Leigh asked.
“Oh.” Valerie smiled grimly. “The other girls warned me that if I didn’t eat, Igor would force-feed me, so I hid my daily portion in my jacket, bunched up in a corner of my cage.”
“Ah, that explains it,” Leigh said with amusement, and then told her, “One of the Enforcers said your coat was soiled. He thought it was vomit. Must have been the oatmeal.”
Valerie nodded.
“Igor didn’t catch on?” Anders asked.
Valerie glanced at him, startled by his deep sexy voice. She shouldn’t have been, because it suited him perfectly, she thought, and then turned her attention to her soup and picked up her spoon again. “He would have had I been there much longer. It was starting to smell.”
He nodded, and then said, “Tell us about Igor.”
“Anders, let her eat,” Leigh said, sounding annoyed. “You can grill her for information later.”
“It’s okay,” Valerie said quickly. She didn’t think she had much information that could help them, but if she did and it led to the capture of Igor’s boss, she was willing to answer now.
Turning to Anders, she peered at him for a moment. Up close he was even more good-looking. It wasn’t just his body that would look good in glossy prints, his face was worth a look or ten. His skin was a lovely mocha, perfect and unblemished, his eyes, large and black with what appeared to be gold flecks in them, though she was sure it was pale brown and a trick of light or something. His lips were nice too, full and soft looking. They were the only thing on the man that looked soft though. He definitely worked out. As she’d noted, his chest was ripped, the muscles rippling under his tight T-shirt. His shoulders were wide, his arms muscular and his stomach flat. She was now curious to see him from behind. She suspected he’d have a nice tush too.
Startled by the path her mind had taken, Valerie cleared her throat and glanced down at her soup as she tried to gather her thoughts. What had they been talking about?
“I’m sure a description of Igor can wait a few minutes while we finish our soup,” Leigh said gently.
“Oh right,” Valerie said with relief as her memory was nudged. He wanted to know about Igor, she thought and then raised her head and stared at Anders. “Why would you need a description? You should have seen him. He was the dead man on the bedroom floor.”
When Anders and Leigh exchanged a silent glance, she sat back slowly in her seat. “He is dead, right? I killed him. At least, I think I did. He should have been there on the floor.”
When Anders just shook his head, Leigh suggested, “His boss must have taken him.”