Tall, Silent and Lethal Page 7

  Cloe smiled sweetly as she looked over at him, holding up the plate of muffins she'd made and with an innocent expression asked, “Muffin?”

  He glared first at her and then at the plate of muffins before his eyes shot to the burnt French toast that he'd tried to make. He opened his mouth and she knew what was coming.

  “Don’t even think about it, Christofer,” Marta said. “My arm is starting to get sore from tapping you.”

  “Good! Then maybe you’ll stop!”

  For a moment, Marta looked thoughtful while she broke off a chunk of muffin and made a show of eating it. Christofer’s eyes narrowed on the action before he glared accusingly at Cloe.

  “No, I don’t think that I will,” Marta said before she focused back on her paper.

  Christofer mumbled something under his breath while he stared at her. Cloe sighed as she picked up the muffin plate and brought it to the counter, knowing he wouldn’t eat any of it. He never did. According to Marta, he was on a special protein diet. She didn’t question it since she knew what a bitch a metabolic disorder could be on a person.

  “Cloe, could you please give me a ride into town this morning? I would like to spend most of the day at the Senior Center.”

  Cloe smiled. For the last four days Marta had spent her mornings at the Senior Center. She suspected that a certain Mr. Goodfellow had something to do with it, but she wasn’t going to say anything, mostly because of the man sulking at the table.

  “Sure, I can do that on my way to the hardware store,” Cloe said, immediately regretting the slip when Christofer’s head snapped back in her direction.

  “Why are you going to the hardware store?” Christofer demanded.

  Marta of course answered. Cloe was willing to bet the woman was enjoying thumbing her nose up at her brother.

  “She’s picking up the supplies to paint the house.”

  “The hell she is! That’s my job.”

  “Uh huh,” Cloe sighed. Just like everything else, he only wanted to do it so that she couldn’t. “I’m ready to go if you are, Marta.”

  Marta pushed her empty plate towards Christofer and grabbed her purse and cane. “I’m ready.”

  *-*-*-*

  Christofer dug his hands into his pockets to keep from strangling little Miss Perfect whose muffins always came out looking like muffins, making his look like dog shit on crack cocaine.

  He almost ran into Cloe when she suddenly stopped in front of him. “Marta, do you want me to pack you a sandwich?”

  No, she doesn’t, Christofer thought smugly. Granted, it was his fault that his sister couldn’t stomach eating sandwiches any longer, but that was beside the point. There was finally something that little Miss Perfect could offer his sister that Marta wouldn't accept.

  “No, thank you, dear,” Marta answered from the front hall.

  “Guess she doesn’t like your cooking after all,” he whispered close to her ear, deciding to rub it in.

  Cloe looked over her shoulder at him, giving him a knowing smile. “I bet she never asked for seconds when you used to cook, now did she?”

  He glared at her, feeling his teeth try to push through. She was getting on his last damn nerve. He should just do the world a favor and put her over his knee and spank that beautiful ass of hers.

  She reached back and petted his cheek with a coy little smile that instantly set his blood on fire. “Just because she eats my cooking doesn’t mean that she likes yours any less,” she said, somewhat appeasing him. She started to walk away only to pause and look over her shoulder with a teasing smile as she added, “Of course, it doesn’t mean that she likes it any more either.” She gave him a wink before walking away, leaving him fuming.

  He was still fuming a minute later when he followed Cloe and Marta outside. Cloe raised an eyebrow in his direction. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m coming with you,” he said as he walked past her, snatching her keys out of her hand. “And I’m driving.”

  “That’s fine with me. I never turn down a cute chauffer,” she said teasingly as she climbed in the backseat, leaving him stunned.

  Did she just call him cute? The horn honking startled him and brought his glare to Marta who gestured at her watch impatiently.

  “They start Bingo in twenty minutes. Hurry, Christofer!”

  He rolled his eyes as he climbed in the driver’s seat and adjusted it and then readjusted it. Damn, she was a short little thing. Of course he liked that. He liked that she looked small and made him want to wrap his arms around her and-

  “Comfy?” she asked wryly from the backseat.

  -strangle her.

  His eyes met hers in the mirror and she smiled sweetly and, definitely, innocently back at him.

  “Christofer!” Marta said impatiently.

  “Give me a minute, woman, while I adjust the seat from midget to man-sized,” he grunted as he shifted the seat again.

  “Too bad everything in the driver’s seat isn’t man-sized,” Cloe muttered under her breath, too low for the human ear to catch, but not for him.

  “I heard that!”

  Her brows arched as she frowned at him. “No, you didn’t.”

  “I assure you, sweetheart, everything is sized correctly,” he said, looking in the rearview mirror, shooting her a wink as his words hit home.

  Christofer decided then and there that he really liked it when she blushed. Marta sputtered something about him moving his butt and Cloe looked out the window. Her cheeks were still bright red when he pulled in front of the Senior Center ten minutes later. Before he could get out and help her, Marta was climbing out and a man in his seventies was standing there smiling at her and giving her a hand.

  Before Christofer could demand an introduction to the man who was manhandling his sister, Marta waved him off and headed inside the building.

  “Stop it. I think it’s cute,” Cloe said as she climbed between the two front seats to get to the front passenger seat. No doubt she feared that he would drive away if she stepped out to switch seats. He probably would, he thought with a smirk.

  “I don’t know why, but that little smile is making me nervous,” Cloe mumbled.

  “As it should, sweetheart. As it should,” he said with a grin as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the hardware store.

  *-*-*-*

  “What about-” Cloe started to say only to be immediately shot down.

  “No, I want white,” Christofer, the most stubborn man on earth, said.

  “Don't you even want to look at any other colors?” she asked, gesturing to a plethora of color samples set up on the back wall.

  He pursed his lips up thoughtfully as he stepped closer. Instead of stepping around her to look at the samples though, he stepped up right behind her.

  Cloe tried to step away only to find herself boxed in by his large body. He put a hand on her hip and leaned over her like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, trying to force herself to remain calm.

  “Hmmm, these are okay I guess,” she heard Christofer say, sounding as though he was far away instead of right behind her.

  She could feel her heart pounding against her chest as she tried to convince herself that she was not locked in place. She could move. She could. She had the entire store to move around. There was no way that she was trapped in this small space. None. If she wanted to move she could.

  “Are you okay?” Christofer suddenly asked, breaking through the tension that threatened to bring her to her knees.

  “Yes, I'm fine,” she lied, stepping away from him and headed towards the paint accessories. “Why don't you think about it before you decide?” she suggested, trying to sound casual as she tried desperately to calm her frayed nerves. “It's going to take a while before the house is ready to paint anyway.”

  “But I want white,” he said in a sulky, somewhat cute, tone that made her smile and somewhat calmed her nerves.

&nbs
p; She looked over her shoulder at him to find him looking at her curiously. “What?” she asked self-consciously, fighting back the urge to squirm under his probing gaze.

  After a moment he shook his head. “Nothing. Why don't you get what you need and I'll meet you up front?” he offered, walking off before she could respond.

  With a sigh, she returned her attention to scrapers, wondering what the hell that was about. For a second there she thought he’d looked hurt, but just as quickly the hurt expression was gone, leaving her to wonder if she'd just imagined it.

  She quickly selected several scrapers and a large tarp and headed towards the front of the store, wondering where Christofer had wandered off to. When she spotted him outside leaning against her car and looking bored, she couldn't help but frown and wonder what his problem was. During the entire ride here he told her that he was doing this and that she didn't need to bother and now he’d lost interest?

  What a jerk.

  “Miss? I can help you over here if you're ready,” a man said, drawing her attention to the counter by the far wall where a man dressed in a shirt and a tie stood, patiently waiting for her.

  “Thank you,” she said, pasting a smile on her face as she walked over and placed her items on the counter.

  “Did you find everything you needed?” he asked as he scanned her items.

  “Yes, thank you,” she said, pulling some money out of her pocket.

  “You're new in town, right?” he asked hesitantly, taking his time to add up her purchases.

  “I just moved here last week,” she answered politely, wishing he'd hurry up so she could leave. She was still feeling a bit jittery and desperately needed to step outside and get some fresh air.

  He smiled. “You know, I think I heard that somewhere. You're staying with the Petersens, right?” he asked her as his gaze darted past her. Unable to help herself, Cloe followed his gaze to find Christofer watching them through the window.

  “Just a little friendly advice, but I would stay away from him,” the cashier said and Cloe could have sworn from the angry expression that crossed Christofer's features that he could hear them, which was ridiculous since they were a good thirty feet away with a wall of thick glass between them.

  “How much?” she asked, returning her attention back to the cashier.

  “Fifteen-fifty,” he said. “Look, I know it sounds like small town drama, but there is something seriously wrong with that man. He's-”

  “Keep the change,” she said with a forced smile, cutting him off. The last thing she needed in her life was small town bullshit. She grabbed her small bag and walked outside, relaxing when she took her first breath of fresh air.

  She walked towards her car and nearly dropped the bag when Christofer tossed the keys to her.

  “Wow, you're going to let little ole' me drive? I'm honored,” she said dryly.

  “Tell Marta that I'll be home sometime later tonight,” Christofer said evenly as he pushed away from her car.

  “What are you talking about? I thought you wanted to help.”

  “Changed my mind,” he said with a shrug, walking away without giving her another glance.

  She couldn't help but shake her head in disbelief. “What an asshole,” she muttered, climbing into her car. He really needed to figure out what he wanted, because these little mood swings were seriously starting to annoy the shit out of her.

  Not that she couldn't use the extra money, she definitely could, but it was the middle of September and it was already starting to get chilly. At least with his help she could have cut half the time off the project, but now she'd be lucky to have it finished before the first snowflake fell.

  “Fine, whatever,” she said, sighing as she drove the short distance back to the house. If he didn't want to help then that was more than fine with her. She wasn't about to lose any sleep over it.

  A few minutes later she pulled into the driveway and was kicking herself for not asking Christofer to grab the ladder out of the small shed in back when she had the chance. Then again, knowing his mood swings he probably would have agreed to do it and then stormed off to glower somewhere, she thought, laughing at the image of him doing just that. Not that she would admit it, but she found his little glares and pouts kind of adorable even if he did occasionally irritate the shit out of her.

  Wanting to get this over with so she could relax for at least a few hours, she headed to the backyard, hoping the ladder wasn't too heavy. The last thing she needed was to throw her back out and depend on Christofer to take care of her. She pulled the key that Marta had given her yesterday out of her pocket and unlocked the door. She shoved it open until she made sure that it caught on a few clumps of grass and stayed open.

  She stepped inside the small shed and looked around the dimly lit space, wondering if she should go back inside and get a flashlight so that-

  The door slammed shut behind her, startling her as everything went pitch black. Forcing herself not to panic, she turned around and blindly searched for the doorknob. When she found it, she tried to turn it, but it wouldn't budge. She yanked on the door several times before she slammed her shoulder into it as she tried desperately to turn the knob.

  “Oh God, please no,” she cried softly as she pulled at the door as old terror surfaced, threatening to overtake her. She could almost hear the screams and the growls as she pounded against the door. This could not be happening, not again. “Help! Somebody, please help me!” she screamed as she slammed her fists against the door.

  “Please!”

  Chapter 8

  “You want another beer?”

  Christofer didn't bother looking up at the waitress as he nodded. She sighed heavily with annoyance as she walked away, probably hoping that he'd just leave. Hell, at the moment he wished he could do just that. He wished that he could get into his truck and forget that this small town even existed and live the life he craved.

  There were so many things that he wanted to do and see, but never had the chance because of his duty to his sister. He didn't blame her for the way his life turned out. He blamed himself. If it hadn't been for him, their parents would have lived and his sister would have lived a full happy life instead of a life filled with sorrow and disappointment.

  He'd lost count over the years of just how many ways he'd truly fucked his sister over. He was the reason she'd spent four years in that hell being poked, prodded and experimented on by those monsters. He was also the reason why they had to hide after their escape and the reason she never had the childhood that she’d deserved. If it hadn't been for him, she could have been adopted out after the war to a nice couple, but he'd been unable to let her go.

  When they came to the States he'd planned on finding a couple that would take Marta in and love her as their own. Through a priest, he’d found a young couple that would have done just that. They would have given her everything that he couldn't, a home, stability and, most of all, a childhood, but in the end he hadn't been able to part with her. He couldn't trust anyone with her care. It was one of the most selfish things he'd ever done.

  She meant the world to him and he'd thanked her by destroying hers. There were so many things in life that she'd given up to stay with him. Instead of a life with dolls, schoolwork and games, she'd lived a life on the run. They never stayed in any area long enough for her to make friends, because they were always afraid of being discovered.

  He knew that he should have destroyed the lab and all evidence of their existence when they’d escaped, but there hadn't been enough time. He'd been too afraid to find out what they'd do to his sister if they'd been caught. Instead, he’d grabbed his sister's weak body and ran and never stopped running it seemed until about forty years ago when Marta finally had enough.

  It was the first time they'd ever truly argued. She was tired of running and wanted a home, a real life and he wanted to keep her safe. It hadn't mattered what he said or did, she’d refused to listen to him. He tried, God, how he’d tried to convince her
to stay with him, but she wouldn't. She’d said she loved him, but couldn't live like a fugitive any longer. She needed some peace in her life and in the end he'd been helpless to do anything but see to her wishes.

  So he’d bought her a house and stepped back, allowing her a chance at the life he knew that she deserved, but he was never far from her. He took any job he could find, jobs that no one else wanted and sent her every last cent. The only thing he seemed to need was blood in his stomach and that was easily handled with a visit to the seedier side of whatever town or city he happened to be living in at the time.

  For years he’d slept in abandoned buildings, garages and woods, too afraid to make any place permanent. Even though he'd missed Marta a great deal, he was glad that she no longer lived that life alongside him. As much as it hurt to watch her go on with her life, he was glad that he could finally do the right thing by her. In time it gave him comfort to know that his little sister was happy, had friends and had even fallen in love.