Branded (Strand Brothers Series Book 1) (11 page)

Not convinced of that, I stared at Fields—hard. He didn’t back down, which impressed the hell out of me. “Does she have it right?” I asked, “Or do you and I need to step outside?”

He snorted, “I’d never harm blondie. She knows that.”

Aimee squeezed my hand. “See? ‘S all good,” she declared.

Once more, I appraised Fields and then glanced back at her. “I’ll just be over there with Ray.” I inclined my head in the direction of my security guard.

She nodded. Then, her and Fields began to walk down the hall while deep in conversation.

*****

Ray had not seen any action that day—
no surprise, there
. Reynolds wasn’t stupid enough to try anything in public. A fact that didn’t sit well with me, for experience told me he was waiting for an opportunity to arise. We had to be one step ahead of him, diligent in our mission to keep everyone safe. Although there was no doubt in my mind Aimee was his target. The sooner I married her, the sooner she would be safe from him. Hopefully she would see that. However, I was getting to know her pretty well; she would not take this lightly. Just like I knew she’d blast me for the incident with Keshaun a few minutes ago. Aimee Taylor was definitely not a damsel in distress. She was already furious she needed my help. A proposal of this magnitude would be met head-on with her determination and tenacity. What I needed to find was her Achilles' heel. I decidedly opened the door to Renée’s room. Time to get some answers.

I approached with gentleness and made myself known by rubbing her hand. One eye blinked several times before focusing. The other, was swollen shut. I greeted, “Hello.”

“Hi,” she responded back.

“Do you remember me?” I inquired as I took a seat in the chair next to her bed.

“Yeah. Nik, right?”

“That’s me,” I confirmed.

“So, she told you?”

Hold on, told me what? “Not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

She blew out a breath. “Figures. That girl doesn’t wanna accept the danger she’s in.”

No joke!
“Tell me something I don’t know.”

She attempted to smile but then winced from the pain in her lip. “Listen. I shouldn’t betray her trust. However, she
needs
you. Stubborn girl won’t admit it though.”

I sort of chuckled and sort of snorted, “Reynolds is behind this.”

“Got that right. Asswipe had his goons send Aimee a message via me.” She waved a hand over her body for emphasis.

“Any words involved?” She had definitely piqued my interest. And I had a whole lot of respect for her, knowing that she loved Aimee enough to keep this part from her.

She snarled, “Oh, yeah.” She attempted to imitate the thug’s voice that attacked her. “‘Tell Aimee, either she marries Caleb or else.’ ”

“Douchebag.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more.”

“Don’t worry about her.” I apprised, “I have a plan.”

“Do you, now?”

I actually did half-smile at that. “Yeah. She won’t like it,” I warned.

“We’ll make her,” she scoffed. “Lay it on me.”

I took a deep breath and said, “I’ll ask her to marry me.”

“Oh, shit! Look handsome, that ain’t gonna fly with her.”

I leaned forward. “Sure it will. You’re gonna help me convince her it’s for the best.”

She attempted to nod but I could see the pain the motion caused. “I didn’t say I disagreed with you. It would be for the best.” She added, “But honestly, I’m not sure we can make her see that clearly.”

I shrugged. “Clearly or not, it’s the right answer.”

“Okay. I’ll do what I can.” She acknowledged, “Just know, you’re in for an epic battle.”

“I’m a champion when it comes to a good fight.” I patted her hand.

“Good thing.”

All of a sudden, Keshaun reentered the room. My sign it was time to leave. I glanced back down at Renée and asked, “Wish me luck?”

She softly laughed, “Baby, you need prayer, not luck.”

I nodded, “True.”

Keshaun floored me when he held out his hand. “My apologies for earlier.”

I shook hands with him. “Forgotten.”

Then, I headed back out to find Aimee and braced myself for the fight that was about to ensue. I knew full well I didn’t want a bride any more than she wanted to be one. “Life’s a bitch…” For some reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to finish that quote.

Chapter Twelve

Aimee

As Keshaun stepped inside Renée’s room, I went to the ladies’ room—not missing Ray’s watchful eyes following me. It was unnerving to have security everywhere I went. Could I live with this for the rest of my life? No. Question was, how to evade Caleb? The phrase “in over your head” instantly came to mind. Crap. That was me in a nutshell. Either I marry the ogre or he’d harm those I loved. Seriously, what options were left? Nik could not continue with the constant surveillance. Caleb would eventually figure out a way around it. The one saving grace was that he didn’t know my parents’ last name. Yes, Taylor is my legal name, although most knew me by Lockhart—which had been assumed for privacy. Nonetheless Bill’s my stepfather—and the man I’d called Daddy my entire life—hence Mitchell being my mother’s married name. Point was, no one but immediate family knew any of that. Reason was, my biological father, Mark Taylor, had been killed in a car accident when my mother was three months pregnant with me. She married Bill right before I was born; therefore, their identity was safe from prying eyes. I felt very grateful knowing they would be out of harm's way. Now it appeared, after the incident with Renée, Keshaun would protect
his
woman. So really, I only needed to worry about myself.
Caleb’s beyond dangerous
; the little voice in my head reminded me. Yes, I did know that. Along with the obvious, no one was really secure if Caleb put his mind to it. Great. Back to square one.

After I finished my business and returned to the hallway, I spotted Nik casually leaning against the wall with one shoulder.
Dang, he’s hot.
When would I be unaffected by his looks?
Never.
I shook my head to clear it and then approached him. He appraised me for a moment before he asked, “Everything okay?”

“Fine. You ready to leave?”

He straightened to his full height and placed his hand on the small of my back. Electricity shot through me. I glanced at him in speculation, which caused him to remove his hand. Phew! At least he remembered our no contact vow, because I was in no mood to argue with him at the moment. He waved his hand for me to walk in front of him and requested, “Shall we?”

“Sure thing.”

*****

We approached his fancy sports car—
what on earth is this thing?
Ever the gentleman, he opened the passenger door and assisted me into the very low to the ground automobile. Once he gracefully sank his large body behind the wheel, I inquired, “What kind of car is this, anyway?”

Nik actually half-smirked.
OMG!
“A McLaren MP4-12C,” he replied with not a little awe in his voice.

Boys and their toys. Although I must confess, it was kind of cute to see his face all lit up like that. “You really are the quintessential multimillionaire, aren’t you?”

He cocked a brow. “Do you expect me to apologize for that?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Not really.”

He bobbed his head once. “Good.”

He whipped through the frenetic New York City traffic like it was nothing, handling the car like a professional. Once we arrived at the parking garage for his penthouse, my knuckles were white and cramping. On our way up in the elevator, I pivoted towards him. “Mind if I ask you something?”

He held my gaze intently. “You can ask.”

I nodded and theorized, “But it doesn’t mean you’ll answer.”

“I’ll try,” he ceded.

Really, what more could I ask for? Well, actually—“Will you tell me the truth?”

He looked affronted. “I’m not a liar, Aimee.”

“Fair enough.” I gathered my thoughts for a minute. We had arrived in the foyer before I spoke, “What happens now?”

“We need to talk ‘bout that,” he hedged.

Shoot! That didn’t sound good. I took a fortifying breath and asked, “When?”

He escorted me into the kitchen and held out a barstool for me at the breakfast bar. “Are you hungry?” he evaded.

I raised my eyebrows and pointed that fact out, “You’re dodging my question.”

“No. I’m getting ready to fix myself a sandwich.” He countered, “I was being polite.”

“Oh. In that case, yes, I am hungry.”

As he prepared the sandwiches, he queried, “What would you like to happen at this stage of the game?”

“Not sure I’m following you here,” I admitted. “Could you elaborate, please?”

“Yes. Well, you don’t want to marry Reynolds, correct?”

“Definitely not!” I vehemently responded.

He paused, stroking his jaw with his forefinger and thumb. “Can’t say that I blame you there.” He sat down and placed a plate in front of me. “How long do you think you’d need security?”

After swallowing, I answered, “I just don’t know. I mean, I’d like to think he’d give up and move on, but I already know that’s not likely.”

He gave me his full attention. “How’d you know that?”

I sighed, “Because he’s been actively pushing marriage for over six months now.”

“Shit.”

“Yep. That about sums it up.”

Once we finished eating, he put the dishes in the sink, sat back down, and poured both of us a glass of white wine. Hmm, it was delish. Curious to know what kind it was, I glanced at the bottle to see. Huh, I’d never had Grüner Veltliner before. His inquisition continued, “No offence, but why has he been pursuing the issue?”

“None taken.” I shrugged. “I’d like to know that myself.”

His chiseled face was pensive and forlorn as he silently sat there for a few moments. I wanted more than anything to take that horribly sad look away. This man had some deep wounds, and I was unsure if there would ever be true healing for him. That morose thought brought tears to my eyes. He misunderstood and comforted, “Hey, now. I thought you weren’t offended by my questions.” With the pad of his thumb, he wiped the moisture away and implored, “Please, don’t cry.”

I knew I couldn’t very well confess the tears were for him. So I said, “I’m okay. Just a little worried.”

“About what, exactly?”

“Well, he hurt Renée to send a message to me. Although we have no proof, we know he destroyed my apartment. What’s next, Nik? What more is he capable of?”

For a moment, his eyes widened in surprise—
wonder what that’s about
—then he recovered quickly and murmured, “More than you realize.”

I stood and walked over to the floor to ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. The view was amazing. Once I gathered my thoughts, I pivoted towards him and stated, “I need to know.”

He joined me and offered to refill my glass. Afterwards he asked, “Know what?”

“Don’t be obtuse. You know I need to understand how much danger I’m in.”

A myriad of emotions played across his face: pain, sorrow, bitterness, denial, and hopelessness. Each and every one of them caused my heart to fissure. There was nothing I wanted more than to wrap my arms around him. To reassure him that love could conquer all of this and more. Somehow, deep inside, I knew he would not accept my compassion. He was so lost, a prisoner in a cell of his own making. How could I free him? Especially when he did not seem to want freedom.
Oh, Nik.
He held out his hand for me and commanded, “Come. I’m gonna need a stronger drink for this conversation.” I didn’t miss the grimace on his face.

All of a sudden, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

*****

As we entered the living room, he motioned for me to take a seat on the massive oversized couch, and then he walked across the room to turn on an incredible sound system. The song that began to play was a bit confusing at first. It sounded as if it were an old radio broadcast—
something about war?
Fitting. Then, the most incredible music began: a combination of heavy rock, an orchestra, a choir, and the most haunting voice I’d ever heard singing lead. Mesmerized by the song, I sat utterly still and listened. Nik approached with crystal rock glasses full of amber liquid. He stared down at his contemplatively. The music held us captive. When it began to replay, I realized he had it looped. I glanced over at him as he sat beside me and inquired, “What is this song?”

He turned towards me and acknowledged, “Our Solemn Hour.” He took a drink and then continued, “The band is Within Temptation. In this recording, they are accompanied by the Metropole Orchestra and the PA’Dam choir.”

“OMG!” I exclaimed. “Her voice is incredible.”

“Yes, I agree. Sharon den Adel is amazing.”

“But we’re not sitting here to discuss music,” I sighed.

The corner of his mouth rose slightly. “No. We’re not.” He finished his liquor and set the glass down on the coffee table, then faced me once again. “I first met Caleb Reynolds just before my senior year in high school. He was a lifelong friend of my late wife, Rachel.”

His words from the hospital immediately came to mind
“She’s dead.”
Now it all made sense: his turbulent emotions; the post-traumatic stress disorder—the
she
he had referred to was his wife. Dear Lord, how long ago did this happen? And where did Caleb fit in?
Listen to the man, Aimee.
He continued, “At least she had thought he was her friend. Once I entered the scene, it didn’t take long for him to reveal his true colors.”

I arched a brow but didn’t interrupt him. He proceeded, “See, Rachel and Caleb’s parents had hoped they would eventually date and marry one another. But once I stepped into the picture, things changed.” My eyes widened, still, I let him speak. “Rachel never, ever thought of Caleb as anything but a friend. Unfortunately, Caleb saw her as much more. Well, I s’pose you can see where the story is heading.”

Yes. Yes, I could. However I wanted him to go on. He took my silence as his cue and resumed, “Anyway, Reynolds became more and more obsessed with her. The closer she and I became, the angrier he got. Before long, the stalking began. It appeared innocent enough to the onlooker, yet we knew it was anything but. Needless to say, once we were married, his threats escalated. I had finally convinced her it was time to take our concerns to the police; however, she died before she had a chance to do so.”