Shutter: The Complete Series (3 page)

His concern over my injury flashes through my mind and puts a small smile on my face. I can find comfort in it now, but last night it didn’t feel right. He made the paramedic look at my wrist, which is merely sprained and perfectly fine now. The paramedic said I needed to wrap it, but when he turned to get a bandage from the ambulance, I ran. I watched from a safe distance as Niko looked for me, wandering around from person to person in search of…me.

He asked everyone, and yelled at the paramedic for letting me leave. He even yelled at poor Blondie, who was shivering in nothing but her thong before a policeman was nice enough to wrap her in one of those puke green, itchier-than-poison-ivy wool blankets. But it wasn’t anyone else’s fault, I caused this. The whole thing is my fault. Niko could have handled Suzy just fine without my interference. And then Niko wouldn’t have a cut marring his beautiful face that was caused by my own hands.

Dread spreads from the pit of my stomach. I can’t let him see me ever again. Even though my head was covered, he still saw my face; I can’t risk that again.

I jump as a loud knock interrupts my silent cocoon. Peeking through the curtain, I see Paul holding two cups of my favorite iced coffee from a tiny bakery I’ve been going to since I was a kid. I open the door to Paul’s relieved sigh.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone? I thought you were on the run…or arrested. I didn’t know what to think.” His hands wave frantically around, emphasizing his exasperation with me, and I quickly rescue my coffee before he spills every last drop.

“Calm down, I never even heard it ring. I’m fine, I’ve been asleep.” I let out a huff of pent up frustration aimed more at myself, “It was a late night.”

He grins. “I heard.” Holding up his phone, he touches the screen and a video plays.

“Late breaking news,” says the host of a well-known celebrity gossip show, whose name is never important enough for me to remember. “Actor Nikolas Gallo evaded yet another run-in with his elusive stalker late last night at his Los Angeles home.”

My mouth falls open.

“Just wait,” Paul taunts in a singsong voice.

The video switches to nighttime aerial footage of Niko’s house.  Police and ambulance lights flash while officers canvas the area around his house, the beams of their flashlights bouncing in the darkness. They look like little ants frantically searching for crumbs.

The host continues, “A prowler broke into the home and armed herself with a knife from Gallo’s kitchen before being run off by an unknown Good Samaritan. Gallo released a statement asking for information about the identity of his rescuer, who is said to have sustained an injury during an altercation with the assailant. ‘I would like to give proper thanks and also ensure they are well,’ Gallo was quoted as saying in the statement. We have also heard reports that Gallo sustained an injury to his face during the ordeal but no word yet…”

“Okay, that’s enough,” I say and push his phone away while he laughs.

“So I’m guessing you don’t know anything about this, right?” he asks with a grin so mischievous I want to slap right off his face.

“Oh, just shut up,” I grumble while I feign anger with him when I’m actually mad at myself. “You wouldn’t be here if you really thought that.”

“For starters, are you really hurt?” he asks with true concern.

“No, I’m fine; really, I am. And that’s all you need to know; there’s nothing else to say.”

“Um-hmm. C’mon, don’t leave me hanging.” He gestures with his hands for me to give him the scoop.

“Stop it,” I slap his hands down. “There’s nothing to tell. Someone broke in, and for some crazy-ass reason I felt the need to help. Like I could actually be some sort of ‘Nikolas Gallo savior.’ It’s all quite ridiculous really.”

“Oh, stop. It sounds like you did help save him. Who was it?” he asks, his eyes penetrating my defenses.

“Who do you think?” I huff out and fall back onto my bed. “Crazy-ass Suzy. I guess she didn’t like being tossed away like common trash at Blasé last night.”

“She actually cut his face? I knew she was crazy, but I didn’t think she’d actually hurt his most prized possession!” Paul shrieks and then covers his mouth in shock.

“Umm…no, actually, that was me. Well, it was Suzy’s fault, but I was the one actually holding the knife when he got cut.” I let my head fall into my hands and groan.

“Brook?” I hear a muffled shout come from the other side of my door.

“What the fuck? Why is it Grand Central Station around here today! No one bothers to come see me in weeks, and now I’ve got two in one day,” I rant while making my way to the door.

“Brook!” comes through the door again before I get to it, and I immediately recognize my brother Brock.

Brock is my twin brother, and we look as identical as humanly possible considering I lack his male appendage. Dark hair, bright green eyes rimmed with gold, the same small nose and full lips, and we’re even the same height at a whopping 5’10”.  But our similarities end at the physical characteristics. I tried to be more like him, I really did, but I didn’t quite accomplish sainthood before I threw it all away to be normal.

Brock is fantastically brilliant at everything he does. His head is screwed on right, while mine is a permanent fixture in the clouds – or at least that’s how those that know us best have always described us. So it should be no surprise he’s a filthy rich Hollywood producer and I live in his small studio guest house.

I open the door without bothering to peek out, and standing there, in all his glory, is Niko, shoulder to shoulder with a smiling Brock. The blood swiftly rushing through my head blocks all sound and reason. Niko’s right cheek is covered with a large, white bandage and I cringe inside at the sight of it. Brock’s lips are moving, but I can’t hear anything over the roaring in my ears. I slam the door and stumble back until my legs hit the bed.

Paul’s laughing faintly registers as I close my eyes and slowly open them again, hoping this is all a dream and I’m actually snuggled tight under my covers. No such luck.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” I whisper-shout to Paul.

“I have no idea, and you won’t find out if you keep slamming the door in his face.”

A second knock sounds.
“
Brook, open the door,” Brock warns sternly, but with a touch of humor.

“Umm, just a minute!” I yell, but don’t move an inch.

“Open the door, or I will,” Paul whispers and raises his eyebrows at me.

“No!” I whisper sternly and point my finger at him like a mother scolding her toddler.

“Brook, open the door, or so help me...” he says in return, not at all threatened by my finger.

“Be my guest,” I counter, gesturing to the door.

He shakes his head but walks to the door, slowly opening it. I feel a rush of heat as Niko takes one, two steps into my personal space. The air feels thick and muggy as the room shrinks to hold his presence.

His height and broad shoulders have him looming over the entire room. It’s fucking sexy as hell with a touch of danger…that, of course, I love.

His short dark hair is unruly and spiky; it calls out, longing to be caressed by my fingers. He’s wearing faded jeans, a nondescript white t-shirt, and thongs. Even his toes are sexy. I have a thong up my ass, and he has them running between his toes – we have so much in common. I giggle then slap my hand over my mouth. Get it together Brook!

“You’ll have to excuse her, she just woke up,” Paul says, effectively reminding me I probably look horrifically scary – this is not my day.

I quickly brush my hands over my hair, trying to tame the bird’s nest I’m sure I created in my sleep. I look down and see I’m wearing a white cami with black shorty-shorts, which is my regular sleepwear. The cami is riding up and showing my stomach, which is flat for the most part, but I’m definitely no longer in model condition. I quickly jerk down on the hem and my embarrassingly underwhelming breasts almost pop out the top. Fuck! I, not so discreetly, readjust the top making sure that both of my ladies are securely covered.

I look up and there are three sets of confused male eyes glued to me. Two are silently laughing and the third could possibly be undressing me. Niko’s gaze moves from my chest, over my stomach, and down to my long legs. The look in his eyes seems to applaud his approval.

No one speaks. We all stand in a stuffy stillness, staring at each other. Niko’s eyes fall back to my face, but still I can feel him devouring me. A pliable feeling rushes over my body and my legs waver in their support. The edge of his mouth turns up and the corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement.

Finally Paul breaks the silence, “Well, please excuse my rudeness, I’m Paul,” he says and extends his hand to shake Niko’s.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you at Club Blasé, but I don’t think we’ve ever actually been introduced, I’m Niko,” he replies and his velvety voice reaches out to caress my ears so softly I almost purr.

“Of course,” Paul agrees as they shake hands.

Brock’s eyes turn to me, demanding I speak, but my lips won’t seem to part.

“Umm, and this is Brook. Who seems to have forgotten her manners,” Brock says for me, shaking me slightly from my catatonic state.

“Excuse me, I don’t seem to be myself. Umm, I apologize,” I ramble at some sort of explanation.

“No apologizes needed; I’m the one that dropped by unexpectedly first thing in the morning,” Niko says as his eyes find mine, locking me into place.

Another silence fills the room.

“Well, I don’t suppose I’m still needed here,” Paul says as he turns to me. “Call me later,” he whispers as he kisses my forehead then turns to the door.

“Here, let me walk you out; I need to head to work anyway.” Brock offers as he trails after Paul. “It was great to finally meet you, Niko.”

Before they disappear, Paul mouths something to me and puts his hands to his chest. My eyes widen in confusion, and I shrug slightly, but he disappears before he can attempt to clarify. My eyes find their way back to Niko just in time to see him looking toward the door as well. When he turns back to face me there is a devilish grin on his face that immediately makes my stomach clench. I take two steps back and my legs hit the edge of the bed stopping me.

“I’m sorry I interrupted…well, whatever you two were doing,” he says, motioning his hand back and forth between me and where Paul was standing. His lips tense and his eyelids flutter anxiously. I have no idea what that means or how to read his face.

“No problem,” I say, feeling the need to console his apparent shift in moods. “Paul’s like a second brother to me. I have no doubt I’ll be seeing him later today.” Which was true, he was going to grill me to death trying to get the scoop on what the hell was happening right this minute.

“A second brother?” He repeats to himself and then laughs. “I see.”

“Wait, you thought there was something else going on in here?” My laugh suddenly matches his. “No way, I’ve known Paul since…well forever, he’s a good friend, only a friend. He’s not really all that into girls anyway.”

He smiles and his full lips stretch across flawless teeth. “Sorry, I guess that really isn’t any of my business.”

“No, I don’t suppose it is.”

“And that’s not why I came here…I mean, to get into your business.”

He’s babbling slightly, making the corners of my mouth turn up and little sparks ignite within me. In all the time I’ve spent trying to get close to him, while remaining unseen, I’ve never witnessed this side of him. He’s in my house, with me, and something’s got him ruffled – I like it.

“At the risk of sounding rude to a very rich and famous person I just met, but why, exactly, are you in my house?” I push on his ruffles a little.

“Actually, I’m here for you. Well I’m here…because of, umm…you.” He clears his throat nervously. “That’s why I’m here.”

He wipes his hand across his forehead, skirting his fingers past the bandage covering his cheek.

“Me?” I probe.

He nods. “I know, Brook.”

My heart drops.

“You know what? There’s nothing to know.”

His face is blank and unreadable, but his eyes flash with some knowing truth that makes my heart race and my face flush red.

“Don’t try to hide it from me, I know everything.”

My mind races - he knows! He knows! How did he find out? Did he see me watching him? How long has he known before the final straw of me breaking into his house made him confront me?

 “I…umm,” I stammer. “I’m not.”

“You are, you’re hiding from me. Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?”

“No, I guess I knew one day you would. I just didn’t know how long I’d have until you did,” I admit and duck my head, trying to hide the heat that’s flooding my face.

“Well, actually it wasn’t too hard.” I don’t dare peek up to see his face, but the tone in his voice sounds humorous to my ears which makes no sense.

“I’m so sorry, Niko, I…I don’t really have an explanation. I didn’t start out to hurt you…” I pause and finally look up. “How did you find out?”

He pulls a phone from his pocket. “You must have dropped it when you ran away from the paramedic, took me forever to find it. Somehow it bounced under a bush by the road, I heard it ringing half the morning.”

My mouth falls open. He doesn’t know, well he knows about last night. But that’s all he knows.
Whew!

“I finally answered, and it was Brock, he told me it was yours, and I wanted to bring it back to you. I wasn’t positive it was you that saved me last night, but now that I see your face, I know it was.”

Chapter 4

“Umm, I can explain,” I say, suddenly not sure how to describe I happened to know that someone – especially his stalker – was about to break into his house in the middle of the night.

“Explain? You have nothing to explain. I owe you. If you hadn’t shown up when you did someone would have gotten hurt. I’m not sure I could have let that bitch run away without hurting her.”

I stare at him completely confused. He’s thanking me for breaking into his house.

“Gratitude was the last thing I expected,” I admit bluntly.

“Why?” he asks and his forehead crinkles in a way I’ve never seen on his face.