Page 6 of Hidden Heir

Sighing heavily, I drag my hand through my hair, wincing when my knuckles catch on some knots. I was so busy taking care of Ant and Tiff that I didn’t fully take care of myself.After last night’s shower I collapsed into bed without combing through my wet hair.

Maybe I’ll take an early lunch.

Forcing my worry for my brother aside, I settle into the groove of work. I spend an hour moving some of the plants into new pots where they can finally breathe and stretch out their roots. It’s calming but tough work when I’m tired, but it does bring me a sense of satisfaction to see an entire row of freshly potted plants ready to bloom.

Just as I finish the last one, the bell above my door rings, signaling a customer entering. I quickly remove my gloves, brush soil from my apron, and hurry through to the shop.

“Morning!” I say cheerily as I move around the counter. “How can I help you this…”

I trail off as my heart leaps up into my throat. Suddenly, the air around me feels thin and hot, as an anxious trickle of sweat moves down my spine.

In front of me are four large, muscular men clad in dark jeans, dark tops, and leather jackets. One man’s neck is so thick it rivals the width of his head. Another is completely bald, his head blindingly reflecting the lights over the counter.

“Miss Harris?” The smallest of the four steps forward and clasps his leather-clad hands together. He’s short but bulky. His pock-marked face twists into a creepy grin as he approaches the counter. “You are Miss Brooke Harris, correct?”

Confirming my name suddenly feels like a terrible idea; I’m highly conscious of the fact that I am alone with four scary-looking men. While their bodies are mostly covered with leather, ink peeks out here and there as the men shift and move.

“I–yes,” I say, swallowing around a sudden lump in my throat. “That’s me.”

“Excellent,” the man replies.

Behind him the bald man moves to the door, and I watch in horror as he flips the sign to closed before sliding the bolt into place.

“We’ve been looking for you.”

3

BROOKE

“Do you need to place an order?”

Clearly they have no interest in doing that but it’s the only thing I can think to say as the smaller of the four men places his thick large hands on top of the counter.

“Not quite,” he says, his crooked smile widening with one side stretching up as if it was trying to reach his ear.

There’s an Irish twang in his voice, and each step closer that he takes makes my heart pound faster and faster. The other three men start to move around the store crashing plants, vases, flowers, and pots to the stone floor. Glass and clay rain down, breaking and scattering into a thousand pieces.

“Hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” My anger gets the better of me and I surge forward as my livelihood becomes a playground for these three men. As soon as I move, the fourth man reacts. He slams into me, grasping my face in one meaty hand and placing his forearm across my chest, forcing me back against the wall.

“Not so fast, little girl.”

I gasp. My entire body runs cold when I hit the wall, pinned in place by this terrifying stranger. Hot tears spring into my eyesand I clutch at his elbow as if the touch can somehow give me leverage for freedom. His fingers embed into my cheeks, forcing my lips into a macabre smile. My heart races, jumping with every sharp crash and smash of my shop's contents.

These men are dangerous.

I know dangerous.

I’ve been hiding from a dangerous man for three years. Are these men his goons? Are they linked to the shadow that exists in the corner of my life?

It’s difficult to sort my thoughts between the pressure across my chest and the smoke stench radiating from this man’s mouth.

“Please,” I beg through squished cheeks. “Tell me what you want, maybe I can help. Just stop destroying my store!”

The man laughs coldly.

“Are–are you from the bank? Is this about my late payments?”

The man laughs even louder. “Do we look like bankers? No we’re not from the bank.” As his grey eyes slowly drift down my body, a different kind of cold wraps its long fingers around my shoulders. His gaze is so intense I can almost feel his sleazy thoughts leaking into me, pressing down across my body. There’s nothing I can do to hide from his gaze. The disgust rises through me and I wiggle my shoulders, trying to get free so I can take a breath that doesn’t include the stink of his mouth.

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