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Charlie
“Take her,” the contorted voice demands behind me.
What?! No! Oh God. I’m about to die, aren’t I?
The heat of his body leaves me feeling cold, and a shiver runs down my spine at the knowledge that he’s abandoning me.
Something has to be seriously wrong with me. First, Daniel, and now this potentially homicidal masked burglar.
My mind flashes to Laura. Are she and Billy okay?
I cringe as I’m pulled into the other man’s chest . . . his bloody chest.
I can feel the wetness, and any hope he’d rolled around in a puddle somewhere evaporated as soon as the copper scent hit my nose.
“No,” I whimper out, a sob choking me.
My hands tremble as I reach up and pat at his wide body. I don’t think, I can’t think of anything else other than finding out how much blood has soaked into his black sweater.
His body shakes under my hands, but I just keep patting at his chest.
The wool is saturated. I don’t even try to stop my cries as they leave me.
A hand twice the size of mine wraps around my wrist and rips my hand away from the sweater.
I look back over my shoulder and up at my masked man as he holds my arm away from the bloodied clothes.
My masked man?I need a fucking shrink. If I make it out of this, I might just check myself into a psych ward. Overly horny and attracted to dangerous men. Do they have pills for that?
“No.” His tone is as short as his words. He’s mad and not just mental mad. But furious mad.
I can’t see his eyes because of the mask, but that doesn’t stop my skin from feeling his gaze. It’s as if he ran his hand down my whole body only to stop between my legs. The throb there matches the one in my wrist, where his strong grip still holds me.
“Easy, brother, she was just checking the blood,” my masked man says slowly, like he’s talking to a wound-up animal.
Brother?
“She’s not thinking, just worried about her friends. She doesn’t know better. I’ll have to teach her not to touch other men. Not to touch you,” he adds.
The pressure on my wrist doesn’t move. The tension in the room stays the same until, eventually, the man in front of me breathes deeply. “I know. And you know I wouldn’t touch her like that. She’s yours. That makes her my sister.”
The two brothers nod at each other as if they have come to an understanding.
My mind spins, and I feel foggy as my brain tries to process his words. Something nudges at the back of my mind, trying to poke its way in.
But I ignore it. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. What matters is this: me, my friends, and making it out alive. Those of us who are still alive, at least.
“Laura,” I cry. Raising my free hand, I bring it back down quickly and as hard as I can, hitting the man in front of me with the heel of my hand.
The prick is a solid wall, but he does flinch as my hand strikes his chest.
“Go,” he tells his brother. Even with the altered tone, I can hear the strain in his voice. “I’m okay.”
Oh, well, as long as he’s okay!
My captured wrist is suddenly free from the man behind me. The blood rushing back gives me a pins-and-needles sensation. It flops uselessly onto the large man before me. The wet sweater makes a sound that has me gagging.
A large hand settles onto the crown of my head before running over the back to my neck over and over until my stomach stops churning.
