Page 3 of My Fiancé's Brother

“You sure this is the right place?” he peered through the windshield around the area. It was the most up and coming neighborhood. Still mostly industrial, there were a handful of condos and lofts in the area.

“Yeah, this is my building.”

Matt had convinced me to buy a loft here. He had promised me that he’d help me with the renovations. He had been too busy, and the vast majority had fallen on my shoulders. I had been hopeless dealing with the decisions and the contractors, and without telling Matt, I had hired a decorator to take over the project and see it to completion. To this day, Matt still believed that I had managed to convert the old building into the loft.

“You should be careful out here. They haven’t caught the throat slayer yet.”

I shuddered. “Who is the throat slayer?”

“Some serial killer creep who has been killing women. They say he chokes them to death.”

My heart tripped. “I’m sure he isn’t out here.”

The cabbie looked over his shoulder at me. “Just be careful, kid.”

CHAPTER 2

I jerked awake.My entire body felt tense with fear, but I had no idea why. I lifted my head, my ears straining. Something had woken me. Another noise from downstairs made my heart race.Where was my phone?With shaking limbs, I stood at my closed door and listened. Someone was downstairs and it wasn’t Matt. I had gotten up earlier in an attempt to talk to him about the wedding invitations, but he’d already been half out the door. I had returned to bed and now I was a sitting duck in my bedroom while some intruder rooted around downstairs.

My need to hide overwhelmed me. Instead, I looked around for a weapon. My golf clubs. I gingerly pulled out my seven iron. In bare feet, I eased my bedroom door open. I peered over the glass balcony that overlooked the central living area of the loft. I couldn’t see anyone. Had I imagined those noises? I could see my cell phone charging on the counter. Never again. I would never leave my cell phone downstairs again.

I slowly made my way towards the stairs, keeping my back pressed up against the wall. Everything was silent below. I crept down the open curved stairs. Nothing. My imagination played trickson me. I let out a deep breath. I needed to get a grip. My therapist used to tell me that my fear was simply my false expectations appearing real. A catchy acronym to remind me that my fear of an intruder was irrational.

Heart pounded in my throat, I walked towards the large industrial sliding door to ensure that Matt had set the alarm. My foot connected with something solid and I barely caught my balance as I tripped over it.

Recovering, I turned around to stare at the huge black canvas duffle bag. The toilet flushed behind me from the half bath. I froze and my mind raced. I needed to hide.

I don’t remember moving. Suddenly, I was flattened against the wall in the front walk-in closet. My breath sounded harsh. My heart raced to the point that I feared I would pass out. My vision blurred with tears.

I strained to listen. I could hear taps running and then the bathroom door opened. Footsteps. Then nothing. Holding my breath, I peered around the corner. In front of his duffle bag, a massive man crouched on his haunches. He had unzipped it and was rifling through it. Was that hiskill kit?

My body shook. My stomach clenched rock hard. White knuckles gripped the club over my shoulder. I needed to get one clean shot to his head. Then I could run. I crept up behind him. I saw a gun. With a mangled cry, I swung my club as hard as I could. My club connected with air.

Now I was flat on my back with my club pressed against my neck. The monster was on top of me. Pinning me to the floor. I caught a glimpse of a shocked expression and green eyes and then everything faded to black.

I was on my back.I opened my eyes and took in the high living room ceiling from the couch. Someone had pulled a couch throw overme. Images crashed through me. The intruder. A gun. Being flipped onto the floor.

With a cry, I half sat up. The intruder sat in the wingback chair across from me. He stared at me without expression. The pain that compressed my chest was so intense, so all-consuming, I had to look to see if I had a knife sticking out of my chest. No blood. No knife. Just fear that was so real I could taste it.

The man who broke into my loft looked like an intense terminator Robocop. All muscles and scariness. Would he torture me like my parents had been tortured or would he kill me quickly? I didn’t care about the money. I already decided I would give him whatever he wanted. I just didn’t want to die.

“You passed out,” his voice was deep and rough. “Drink some tea.”

My eyes flicked to a steaming mug on the coffee table. None of this was making sense.

“You made tea?”

He didn’t answer. He just sat there dwarfing my favorite chair. Black army boots. Tree trunk legs were clad in army fatigues. Herculean arms crossed over a powerful chest. A thick neck. Stubble that was almost a full beard. A strong jaw and brow. Eyes wide and green. Messy dark blond hair.

I worked to remember what my self-defense class taught me. Keep them talking. Humanize yourself. Refer to your friends and family. Talk about yourself as a person. And whatever you do,neverask them what they’re going to do to you.

“Are you going to kill me?”

A shocked expression flitted across his face. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Matt didn’t tell you.”

“What does Matt have to do with this?” My voice shook. How did he know Matt? Had Matt hired him?

“Matt invited me to stay here.”

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