Page 15 of Claim Me
What a treacherous feeling to have when my brother could be dying behind the closed door. I looked away, breaking thehypnotic moment. If he thought I could be pushed or used, he was dead wrong. “Why are you here? You’re not family.”
“Because Charlie asked me to be here.” His brow remained furrowed as he tried to figure out what was wrong with me other than being close to hysteria.
His answer didn’t mean anything, but the fact he’d called my brother Charlie meant they were close. He allowed no one to call him Charlie except for me. Did that mean I could trust him? No. My brother’s last phone message had made that apparent. I’d read the call to text several times, even trying to call him back, but the call had gone straight to voicemail. Now I knew why.
“Do not trust anyone and I mean anyone. We need to talk when you return from LA.”
Charlie had left me no details. The moment I’d heard his voice and read the adjoining text, I’d known something was terribly wrong.
Now it could be too late.
Kazimir watched my every movement, and I sensed if I attempted to see my brother again or leave the premises, he’d stop me. His eyes darkened when I rubbed another tear from my eyes and the way his nostrils flared indicated he’d gathered a strong whiff of my perfume.
“Why?”
“To handle some business.”
“I don’t need you to handle anything.” My statement brought amusement, his upper lip curling into a smirk.
“I’m also here to care for you. How are you doing?” This time, I was able to hear him. Maybe the shock of the tragedy was finally sinking in. While soft, his voice was smooth, the husky accent creating a moment of soft comfort, yet the knot in my stomach and the near panic crushing down on me weighed heavily on my mind.
Care for me? I certainly didn’t need a babysitter. He’d just riled my anger. My mother had Irish blood in her and she used to tell me I’d inherited her worst trait of flying off the handle without thinking. Right now, I considered it her best. If the man believed he was going to handle me, he was dead wrong.
“How do you think I’m doing?” The question came out much harsher than I’d hoped, but Kazimir deserved it for his cagey actions. He was holding something back from me. That was easy to see. “My brother was shot by an unknown assailant who’s still at large. He might die. He’s the only family I have. But if you’re friends then you would know that.” My tone was accusatory, but right now, I needed to blame someone. I longed to take out my vicious anger on anyone who crossed my path.
How could anyone do this to Charlie? He was so kind, so giving.
Sadly, my thoughts drifted to wondering what he’d gotten himself involved in. He’d been so strange when we’d communicated, avoiding my direct questions all under the guise I didn’t need to be bothered. I’d sent him texts, emails. He’d finally seemed exasperated.
“I will take care of this,” Kazimir told me as if by waving a magic wand, he could take us back in time.
My laugh was bitter and he didn’t seem to appreciate that I was seemingly making fun of him, but I was simply reacting. “Noone can. Certainly not a stranger who suddenly appeared in my brother’s life.” The ire dripped from my tone.
His eyes became darker, his chiseled jaw clenched. “You don’t understand, Marissa.”
“You’re right. I don’t, and in truth, I don’t care to. Now, I need to talk to the doctors and I’ll need to talk to the police. You can leave now. I’ve got this.”
I’ll be damned if he didn’t crowd my space. “Your brother asked me to protect you with my life and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I understand you’re upset. I am as well, but you’ll need to trust me in that I’ll find out who did this.”
“What then?” Why was I asking, just simple curiosity?
This time his sensual smile sent a chill through me. “Then I’ll handle it my way.”
His way. He’d just confirmed he was a dangerous man. Swallowing, the lump remained.
Powerful. Dominating. Dangerous. Not what I needed.
Keep it together. You can’t fall apart.
No, I wouldn’t. My brother needed me.
I started to look down when I noticed his lips moving again. “…play beautifully.” His tone had softened, his deep voice reverberating in my ears.
What?
A cold chill settled into my spine.
He’d heard me play? A strange and unsettling sensation tore through me. During the last few months, I’d had a sense of being watched, followed every so often as if someone was keeping tabs on me. No one had been overt and other than the first time four months before when I’d seen a man standing outside my window, I’d simply had the tickling sensations.
