Love, Cass

by St. Klaire, Stephanie

  “I already know, Uncle Wylie. He got suspended, and I didn’t.” Reagan chuckled. “I told the principle that guy violated my rights and it was harassment. We just learned it in class, and it worked really good.”

  “Are you serious?” Liam asked of Felicity. “I don’t want little shits messing with my daughter, but don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a little? Sometimes kids will just be kids. It’s a guy thing. We aren’t all emotional and dreamy like girls. Sometimes teasing and picking on girls is how we get a girl’s attention.”

  A smirk crossed Felicity’s face at his admission. “Oh really? Is that so, Liam?”

  Her question was a loaded one, and the minute Liam finished his thought, he knew he just handed her the cross to hang him from. It was obvious what she was thinking, and the whole table read her like a book, based on the snickers. Defending his statement, at this point, would only make him look more guilty of picking on Felicity to get her attention. So, he sat coolly and matched her challenging gaze.

  “So, Reagan. Anything…else new with you, dear?” Colleen asked, grabbing at a new topic of discussion.

  “Uh, no. That’s about it, Nana.”

  “Nothing…exciting?” Colleen blushed in giddiness.

  Reagan accepted a second helping of dessert while she pondered the odd questions her grandmother was tossing her way.

  A long warm sigh escaped Colleen. “Grandad and I are so proud of you love. You’re becoming such a young lady.”

  Reagan’s fork dropped to her glass plate in a loud clank, commanding the room’s attention. She scooted her chair back and turned to Liam.

  “Seriously, dad? You told? How embarrassing! I can’t believe you.” She got up from the table.

  “Told them what?” Pulling his head from his phone where he had it buried again, Liam defended, “Oh! That! No, I promise I didn’t…”

  “Uncle Luke?”

  “Don’t look at me, Rage. I didn’t tell Nana.” Luke had his hands up in surrender, deflecting any involvement despite his answer giving it all away.

  “So, you do know!” Reagan fisted her hands, and her face turned crimson while her eyes filled from embarrassment that refused to spill over. “This is – it’s just – stupid! Why can’t you keep a secret and just care about the important stuff?”

  “Rea…” Liam sighed. “I do care about important stuff. That was…important. Right? It’s a big deal for a girl. And I only told your uncles.”

  “You think my period is important?” She paused and looked to the ceiling for a moment to collect her thoughts and regain her cool. She wasn’t about to have a tantrum in front of everyone now that she was a young lady. “I only thought your phone was important.”

  Reagan looked around the table, mortified by the looks of awe and sympathy before she stormed off. “I’m going home.”

  “Reagan…” Liam stood and began to follow her, but Felicity stepped in front of him and cut him off before he could.

  “Let me go.” She tilted her head, her shoulders drooped, her disposition softening. “Please. She’s embarrassed. Just let me help.”

  Locked in her gaze, torn between chasing after Reagan and wanting to explore the sincerity dancing in Felicity’s eyes and pout of her lips, he finally nodded his head and took a step back. He stood there for a moment longer than necessary and watched her gather her things and move toward the door after Reagan. Something briefly felt different. He wasn’t sure what, but it brought him a sense of calm and clarity. He trusted her after all. He didn’t trust the desire that her doe eyes and pouty mouth provoked though.

  When the earsplitting silence became distracting, Liam finally broke it. After a long spell, sitting there and reflecting on how quickly the past few minutes completely shifted against him, he turned his attention to his family and filed away his thoughts about Felicity and Reagan until he could reconcile them when he wasn’t surrounded by peering eyes. Sitting up in confidence, he addressed the prying vultures.

  “I didn’t know it was a secret.” A bereft tone laced through his words as he took in the sympathetic looks around the table “I wasn’t given a manual on this stuff. None of you have had to deal with this stuff either. So please – no comments.”

  “We’re all going through it with you, son,” Colleen replied, but the sympathy ended there, and she delivered real talk. “It’s been too many years now, Liam. Reagan is lucky to have City to turn to. You are too, but you’re too stubborn to notice.”

  “You mean Felicity,” he replied with an eye roll, “and…”

  A buzzing sound bounced around the room as each of the brothers reached for their phones. Liam dug into the alerts sounding on his and pulled the laptop from the leather shoulder bag draped over the back of his chair. Fingers moving briskly over the keys, he worked quickly to validate what he didn’t think was possible.

  “Tell me this isn’t happening, bro. False alarm?” Declan questioned, looking up from his phone.

  Liam sat back, wide eyed, and stared at the information rolling up his screen. His gaze slowly rose as awareness settled in, and he snapped his laptop shut before tossing it back in his bag.

  He took to his feet and said, “It’s not a systems test. We need to get to Watermark…now.”

  CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE READING LIAM...

  COPYRIGHT © 2018

  Stephanie St. Klaire

  Brother’s Keeper III: Luke

  Book Three in the Brother’s Keeper Series

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, or other status is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever known, not known or hereafter invented, or stored in any storage or retrieval system, is forbidden and punishable by the fullest extent of the law without written permission of the author.

  EDITOR: Monica Black: Word Nerd Edits

  FORMATTING: The SSK GroupCOPYRIGHT © 2018

  Stephanie St. Klaire

  CHAPTER 1

  With her hand covering her mouth to quiet her heavy, quivering breaths and contain the scream edging to get out, Daisy made a decision. Run. It was now or never.

  With the sound of leather-clad footsteps clicking against the glaring marble floor fading, it was time to go. There had to have been half a dozen men, but they had disappeared into the crowd at the senator’s mansion, leaving the hallway eerily silent.

  Peering around the recessed mahogany doorway, Daisy held her breath, needing to confirm the men were indeed gone. Noting the coast was clear, her attention shifted to the half open door a few feet away where events that would change her life forever took place. Murder.

  She couldn’t shake the image of Senator Antonio Martinez’s face when he realized his time on earth was done. She read that expression like a book. A gun was raised, and his face paled as his eyes grew wide, losing their color. His jaw had dropped just as the barely-there sound of a bullet cut the air in a high-pitched whoosh before piercing the senator in the middle of his forehead.

  What originally had been a quick trip to the staff bathroom before switching gears from filling wine glasses to singing as the evening entertainment quickly turned her into a witness to the most heinous experience of her life. She watched a man take his last breath. The worst part: she didn’t know who killed him.

  Flanking Senator Martinez on either side, she recalled two men, both Hispanic with thick, heavy accents and faces that would forever be engrained in her memory. Daisy didn’t recognize them, and identifying the rest would be nearly impossible as they stood with their backs to the door while the shouting match that had caught her attention to begin with ensued. That voice, though – she’d never forget the sound of the man’s voice who pulled the trigger.

  “You chose the wrong side, Senator,” the man said in a deep ba
ritone that carried a subtle southern twang. “It pains me to do this, but I’m sure you understand.”

  A chill raced down her spine. The choice of words was as evil as the deed. Patronizing. Sympathetic, yet accusing. Like the senator forced the hand of his murderer, leaving him no choice but to take his life. There she stood, in the doorway across from the man’s final resting place, searching for courage. Silently, she counted to three, then five, and on ten, she launched, sprinting for the heavy craftsman door facilitating her escape.

  Just as she reached it, a sound came from behind her. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw a man standing in the doorway of the dead senator’s office, looking right at her. She saw him move, but didn’t stick around to see where or why. She ran, faster than she knew she could. Across the lush, meticulously landscaped grounds, disappearing in the shadows just beyond the expansive lawn. When she heard the door across the property open, she knew he was coming for her.

  It had paid off, coming in early and helping her best friend, Cally Stark, set up the party. The senator’s assistant had given them a tour of the grounds so they would know where to set up, where to stage their staff, and every staff entrance on and off the property. Ducking behind the arborvitaes, thick from age, she forced herself through the bulky branches and spiderwebs, seeking her escape.

  Daisy found the wrought iron spindles posing as a barrier between the tall brick pillars. As petite as she was, she couldn’t get through the narrow poles, so she climbed, using the wall of arborvitae as leverage to hoist herself over. It wasn’t graceful, but it was effective. Short of her black dress ripping as it caught on part of the fence, she came out with barely a scratch or bruise.

  Quick to regain her bearings, she ran west. The staff had been expected to park several blocks away from the home where the valet was stowing the guest vehicles. An attendant with a golf cart shuffled staffers and valets back and forth to the mansion. Going over it in her head, Daisy formulated a plan: get to her old rusted Honda, say a little prayer it started on the first try, get the hell out of there undetected, sans headlights, and never look back.

  It was in that moment she realized everything really did happen for a reason. Like the day the key broke off in her ignition, leaving it ever ready to start with a quick turn. Reasons for the senator’s murder and her presence during such would go undecided. Besides, how was there purpose and reason in murder?

  Catering trucks and service vehicles lining the street indicated she’d almost made it to the rows and rows of parked cars. Lungs burning and feet aching, it was only then she realized she had lost her shoes at some point, and that dewy little droplets hitting her chest were from the endless flow of tears racing down her face. Only a few more feet.

  I can do it, she told herself.

  With the old primer grey Honda staring back at her from the front row parking spot she’d snagged, relief settled in. The street was dimly lit, but the lot was dark and easy to disappear in should she have car trouble

  Just as she approached a black florist van to her right, the side door slid open and a man dressed head-to-toe in black grabbed her in one fierce swoop. With one hand around her waist and the other covering her mouth, he pulled her in quickly. Daisy struggled to fight him, to get away, but he was too strong. Tossed to the far side of the van, the man slammed the door shut, sealing her fate.

  “Wh-Who are you? Please…I didn’t see anything. Just let me go,” Daisy bargained, her voice barely audible. “I w-won’t tell anyone.”

  “Won’t tell anyone? You just said you didn’t see anything.”

  “Right!” she chirped. “I-I didn’t. Not a thing. I wasn’t even here tonight. I was home with my dog. And you’re really big…and scary.”

  She paused, eyes filling with more emotion as her new reality sunk in. “My dog. Oh my God. My dog. She’s at my house…locked in. I-I’m never going to see her again, am I?”

  Fresh tears quickly turned to hysterical sobs. “Sh-She’s going to think I abandoned her. Just like her last owner. I rescued her.”

  The man tilted his head, casting an odd look at Daisy, unsure how to address her emotional state. “Look…”

  “No. You look. She’s special. You may be big and scary, but surely you have a heart. She’s…high strung. Anxious,” she cried. “She needs me – or someone who will be understanding and patient with her.”

  “I wonder where she gets it,” the man said over his shoulder to a blonde woman in the driver seat.

  “What’s wrong with her?” the blonde asked. “Is this one crazy or something?”

  “Shock?” the man responded with a shrug. “Some people act…odd when exposed to certain…trauma.”

  “And my Gran. Oh my God, I’m going to die before my Gran. This is going to kill her.” Fear had a way of making a person so frantic, they focused on less significant things like what one’s dog would think of them when they didn’t come home from their eventual murder.

  “You just killed an old lady. You’re going to kill me, then she and my dog will have no one…so she’ll die too. Eventually!”

  “We’d never kill an old lady,” the blonde defended. “Not on purpose.”

  “If you’d just…” Again, the man was unsuccessful at getting a word in edgewise.

  “I can’t believe this is happening. This is my life? Of course it is – well, the end of it. I’m going to die, at the hands of a…a…florist?”

  While the man reached behind him, rifling through a black duffle bag on the seat next to him, the blonde went for the glove compartment and pulled out a gun.

  “This is it. Okay, this is it. A gun. Big scary guy – you’ll probably be the one to do it. I thought maybe a brick around my ankles and deep lake, or long drawn out torture, like the movies. But a gun. Quick and easy, not so clean, but gets the job done in a hurry and I won’t…suffer,” Daisy continued to rant, eyes focused on the blonde and her gun. “It never fails. I had to pee. I hadn’t had anything to drink, I’d already been several times, but once it was time to get on stage and sing…I had to pee. How was I supposed to know across from the staff restroom – because heaven forbid we pee with rich people – there would be a…a…murder. Oh my God, I still have to pee.”

  A sharp pain in the side of her neck seemed to be the only thing to silence Daisy. Grasping at the site, she turned to see the big scary man holding a hypodermic needle – an empty hypodermic needle.

  “Lethal injection. Poison. Makes…sense.” And that’s when the world went black for Daisy King.

  “Jesus, what were you thinking grabbing the gun?” the man said to the blonde.

  “You went for the needle! You saw how she was acting, can you imagine what would’ve happened if she’d seen that thing? I did you a favor – that needle wasn’t going in without the distraction. You’re welcome. Now, can we get out of here?” she fired back while pulling her seatbelt across her lap.

  “Time to call the boys. Make sure they got out of the mansion,” he said, grabbing his phone from his pocket.

  “Hey, honey,” the man said into the phone, earning a snicker from his partner. In their line of work, they learned quickly that you never knew who was listening – or how. It was their own special kind of smartass code. “It’s Big Daddy. Did you guys get on the road okay?”

  After a long pause, he nodded as if the other party could see him. “Okay, sounds good. You’ll want to stop and pick up Grandma and the dog. Can’t leave them behind.”

  By Grandma and the dog, he meant Daisy’s Grandma and dog – it seemed he did have a heart. Or he just didn’t leave loose ends. It was time to clean up the mess that had been made and make it look like none of them were ever there, including Daisy.

  “All right, meet you at the river house,” he said, indicating their rendezvous point. “Bye, honey.”

  “My brother is going to hate you for that.” The woman chuckled.

  “Your brother is the one who let her get away.” He nodded to an unconscious Daisy.
“He gets to take care of the old lady and the dog.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Glaring rays of light danced on Daisy’s face, waking her with what felt like the worst hangover ever. Grabbing her head in an effort to stop the pounding, she struggled to open her heavy lids and see what was so offensively bright. An open window with white, gauze-like curtains billowed in the cool breeze as they let in the source of her assault. Her memory kicked in, and she shot out of the bed she was in, instantly on the defensive.

  Big mistake. The room spun, her head exploded, and her stomach rolled. She hadn’t had any alcohol the night before and didn’t remember the last thing she ate. Daisy sat at the edge of the bed, holding her head, willing the tight, vice-like pain to ease. Where was she, and how had she gotten there? Events from the previous evening flashed through her head like a highlight reel in reverse: the man in the van with the blonde woman, the needle in her neck, running from the senator’s mansion. The dead senator. It was like a bad movie playing on repeat, haunting her every thought.

  If there was anything good she could pull from everything taunting her mind and challenging her emotions, it was that she was not dead. They didn’t kill her. But why?

  There would be time to answer all the questions at the forefront of her aching mind. Now, she needed a plan. She still had a chance to get herself out of this mess and run like hell to the nearest police station.

  From the corner of her eye, the contents of the bedside table caught her attention. Still in a fog, it took her a minute to catch up with her own thoughts and catch on. There was a bottle of water, a small plate with a few pastries, and a white business card sitting there, waiting for her attention. Afraid the water may be poisoned, and pastries tainted, she elected to forgo the food and drink, despite the sudden cottonmouth she wished to quench.

  Perhaps this was all part of the game and her demise – torture – through various forms of poison. Rolling her eyes at her own dramatic thoughts, Daisy made a silent vow to stop watching gritty crime shows. Especially since her life had managed to become one, and it was less than entertaining.