and arm, forcing a whimper of pain between her parted lips. She jerked her head toward the noise. The hotel server stood a few feet away, his hand tucked up against his chest and his face creased with pain. His teapot lay in pieces, hot tea spreading across the linen tray cover and spilling onto the floor.
'He's burned himself!' a woman nearby exclaimed. 'Someone send for the hotel doctor!'
As the server made soft, mewling sounds of pain, the phantom pain in Iris's hand deepened and spread, forcing her to bite her lower lip to remain silent.
Tahir Mahmoud hurried to the man's side and led him to a nearby chair. 'Someone get me some ice. Quickly!' He looked at Iris.
'Do you know anyone who can help him?'
Her heart fluttered, and for a moment, she almost looked across the room for Quinn to see if she should do something or stay put. But the man's obvious distress wiped away any hesitation. She crossed to the injured man, leaned over him and put her hand on his upper arm, opening herself to his pain.
It raced up her arm and into her chest, setting fire to her nerve endings. She felt herself weaken almost immediately, her legs wobbling.
Mahmoud touched her shoulder to get her attention. She met his gaze, finding him staring at her with a mixture of fascination and cold calculation. He gestured to the chair he'd pulled up for her, and she sat down beside the server.
'How are you feeling?' she asked the man, hating the weak tremble in her voice.
'Better.' the server admitted, his brow creasing with confusion, 'What are you doing to me?'
'Just helping you stay calm.' she answered softly. 'Someone will be here with ice soon.'
The server closed his eyes, a tremor shaking through him as shock from the burn, started to set in. The weakness transferred itself to Iris, making the simple act of keeping her hand on his shoulder almost more than she could manage.
A tall black man in a white coat threaded his way through the crowd toward them, his gaze focused on the injured man. He introduced himself as Dr.Seibling and crouched beside the server, 'What do we have here?'
Iris let go of the server's arm and sat back, her whole body shaking with pain and shock. She didn't even have the energy to jump when Tahir touched her shoulder.
'Let me get you away from here.' he said softly, his voice tinged with what sounded like real concern. But when Iris met his gaze, she saw the predatory gleam in his dark eyes.
She shook her head. 'I'm fine. I just need a minute.'
'I'll get you a drink' Tahir moved away, slipping into the milling crowd. She tried to keep an eye on him, but he was of average height and quickly disappeared from view.
She spotted Alexander Quinn as he came to help clean up the mess from the broken teapot. He glanced her way but gave no sign of recognition. But she didn't doubt for a moment that he'd seen everything that had happened.
The combination of pain and nerves made her head feel fuzzy. She leaned forward in her chair, dipping her head closer to her knees to fight off dizziness. Her whole body started to tingle as if her limbs were falling asleep, the feeling electric, disconcerting and invasive.
'Miss Browning?' An accented voice filtered through the white noise rushing through her head. She forced herself to sit up and open her eyes.
A tall, slender man in a gray tweed jacket stood before her, his ice-blue eyes fixed on her face. One eyelid twitched sporadically, the haphazard cadence mesmerizing. Strong Slavic features under a thatch of hay-colored hair hinted at his ancestry, and Iris knew, instinctively, she was looking at Dr.Boris Grinkov.
The view from the balcony of Iris Browning's room at the Princeton Hotel was hardly the stuff of picture postcards, Maddox thought. The street below was dusty and crowded with tourists emerging to enjoy the late afternoon sunshine. The faded storefronts were quaint and shabby, the sandstone facades crumbling in places. The store owners would get around to repairs when tourist season began to die down. Maybe.
He walked back into the room, closing the balcony doors behind him to shut out the street sounds. The silence closed around him like a shroud, making it hard to breathe as he sat on the edge of Iris's bed.
Getting into her room had been dishearteningly easy. The right story to a sympathetic ear was all it took. If Tahir Mahmoud hired a local with the right contacts to do his dirty work, Iris could easily be dead before anyone could stop it.
He closed his eyes. Images filled the darkness, painted in vivid colors across his memory. Teresa Miles, struggling against the black clad arm that held her prisoner. Her blue eyes staring right into Maddox's where he hid with the others under his guard, he was helpless to stop what happened next.
The flash of steel as the knife whipped up to Teresa's throat-
'What are you doing here?'
He snapped his eyes open, nausea writhing like snakes inside him. Iris stood in the door way, as pale as death.
He pushed himself up from the edge of her bed, his planned safety lecture forgotten. 'Are you okay?'
She looked away from him, but her fingers tightened around the door frame. 'I'm fine.'
'No you're not.' he realized.
He reached her side, lifting his hand to her cheek. She felt cold. Dark circles bruised the skin under her eyes, and her lips were bloodless. She swayed into his touch, and he caught her before she fell. He lifted her into his arms, alarmed at how fragile she felt, and carried her to the bed. He laid her atop the comforter and sat next to her, pushing her tousled hair away from her forehead.
'Oh baby, what happened?'
She told him about the server's accident and what she'd done. 'I got what I wanted. Grinkov's attention.'
Maddox put his hand over her lips. 'Shh. We can talk about this in a few minutes. You're about to pass out on me here. Have you eaten anything since breakfast?'
A wry expression flitted over her face. 'I never had breakfast, remember? You kicked me out before we ate.'
Guilt burned a hole in his gut. He dialed the room service number posted by the phone and ordered an omelet and toast.
'I'm not hungry.' she protested, struggling to a sitting position.
'Too bad, because you're eating something anyway.' He cupped her chin in his palm, sliding his thumb over her bottom lip. 'Still in pain?'
Her eyes fluttered closed, her lip trembling beneath his touch. She shook her head. Desire jolted through him, fierce and unbidden. He dropped his hand quickly and started to get up, but her hand closed around his arm, her grip stronger than he expected.
'Don't go.' she said softly.
He met her gaze, his heart pounding. 'Iris-'
'Stay with me.' she said.
Resistance melting, he settled back on the bed, his hip against hers. He took her hand in his, 'What am I going to do with you, baby?'
'What do you want to do with me?' she asked, her gaze unflinching.
His heart rate ramped up to a gallop, 'Sugar, you're in no condition for what I want to do with you.'
Her lips curved, and she released a soft laugh. 'Maybe after the omelet.'
He laughed, surprised at the devilish gleam in her dark eyes. 'You're full of surprises, sugar.'
She twined her fingers through his. 'That's a good thing, isn't it?'
He nodded, lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss on her knuckles, 'It is.'
'Do you want to hear about my meeting with Grinkov?'
A dark thread of anger weaved its way into him, but he tamped it down. 'Yes, I do.'
'Dr.Grinkov invited me to join the focus group'
Apprehension coiled in Maddox's belly. 'When?'
'Tomorrow morning.' she said.
