Page 19 of Claimed

I feigned shock. “That’s some brave stunt there, mister.”

As he stampeded through the playground, I turned my attention to the notebook and pen in my hands. Cold bit through my wool gloves as I scrawled lyrics, trying to get my mind off yesterday.

I rubbed my neck. It hadn’t stopped burning since he’d touched me. His boyish smirk flashed through my head. Arrogant jerk. The way Bumpkin rolled off his tongue told me his opinion about people like me. It boiled my blood.

Mama warned me. When I moved to Boston, she said I’d be judged for my accent, and it was true. People assumed I was uneducated because I talked differently. Well, that was fine. Achille could think whatever he wanted. I hoped he’d keep his guard down. It’d make vengeance that much sweeter when he realized he’d underestimated me. I’d struck a nerve by asking around town about him. I’d have to be more careful, but I wasn’t about to let him keep me from investigating Elise’s death.

My phone buzzed.

I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Bumpkin.”

Achille’s sensual purr sent a jolt through my spine.

My stomach did somersaults. “How’d you find this number?”

“I have my ways. I’m glad you’re taking it easy after our conversation.”

I tensed. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“I’m watching you,” he murmured, stunning me. “I thought you’d be running for the hills by now.”

I searched the playground, but I couldn’t find anyone nearby. “Nope. I’m writin’ a song about you.”

“Really? That’s flattering.”

I flushed at the erotic caress in his words. “Just wait until you hear the lyrics.”

“You have more courage than sense, Bumpkin.”

I snorted. “We’ll see about that.”

“What are you going to do, call the police on me again?”

“If you force me to, I will.”

He made an amused sound. “I didn’t think you’d have the guts to admit that. It’s not every day someone stands up to me.”

My heart skipped. “You’re not used to dealing with people who don’t fear you.”

“True. They’re aware of my work. They don’t give me the benefit of the doubt, but you’re different. You take risks.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You took my hand. You followed me into a place you could’ve never walked out of. Did you know that?”

I should’ve hung up, but his voice kept me hanging. It was alarming and oddly compelling. Warmth crept up my neck.

I shook it off. I needed to end this conversation and put distance between us. This wasn’t just a man with connections to my sister’s death; this was a man who, against all logic, reached a part of me I’d closed off.

I gripped the phone tighter. “I can take care of myself.”

“Not anymore.”

“Where are you?” I whirled around, glaring at the parking lot, but all I saw were reflections of the sky on the windshields. “And why are you following me?”

“So many questions.”

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