Stalked: Brodderick Brothers, #2

By DK Howard

The Brodderick brothers can't help themselves when confronted with a damsel in distress, so when John Brodderick encounters a beautiful woman who needs his help, what else can he do? After being abused by her ex husband, Cindy shuts her heart off to everyone. She needs a safe place to hide after escaping from her ex, and John has an empty rental unit.

When her ex husband insists he wants her back, promising to kill her if she won't return to him, she has no where else to turn but to John and the help he offers, but John is a man with a past as well. Having lost the woman he loves to the same type of man, he is determined to provide Cindy with the safety she needs. Damn if she's not too beautiful, though, and he's falling hard. Can he save her before she falls victim to a madman?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deslisle Publications
• Release date: Jul 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781393218609

DK Howard

DK has always loved a good mystery and enjoys writing the kind she likes to read. She lives in the snowy frozen North, with her supervisor, a cantankerous cat named Mischief.

Book preview

Prologue

Giovanni Santino was out for blood.

He sat in his car outside his estranged wife, Cindy’s, parents’ home, seething, shrouded in darkness, staring at the high, thick hedges and the massive gate preventing him from seeing inside the Silvera residence.

Damn, but the Silvera’s act as if nothing happened. Was it possible they didn’t know their all-too-spirited, stubborn, spiteful, idiotic, traitor daughter left him?

He doubted it very seriously, but it wouldn’t matter. Not a whit. Ignorance isn’t bliss, especially not in this case. It wouldn’t do them any friggin’ good to play dumb. It wouldn’t save them from his well-deserved wrath. He’d get them. He’d hurt them. He’d make them pay for their whore daughter’s treachery. They should’ve raised her better and taught her how to treat her husband.

Payback.

Their pain and suffering would be payback for Cindy’s neglect, betrayal, deceit, and rejection. He wouldn’t let the slut get away with it.

No way. No how.

His wicked smile accompanied a snarl. So the bitch thought she’d leave me. Well, I’m not having it. No one leaves a Santino. No one.

Giovanni punched in the number on his cell and called Travato, the underhanded weasel he’d hired to locate Cindy. Why the hell haven’t you found her yet?

Travato growled into the receiver, Don’t push me. I know you have money, and you think you’re better than me, but don’t push me, Santino.

Giovanni spat out a string of profanity a mile long. He should’ve hired someone else. He should hire someone else now to go after the notorious Travato and kill him. He’d be better off if he had them both taken out, Travato and Cindy.

Find her. Now. Giovanni snapped his cell closed and glared at the iron gates keeping him from Cindy’s family. So, she’s barred me from her life, has she?

Well, not for long, you little bitch. Not for long.

One

Fireman John Brodderick stood in his sprawling front yard with his cop brother, Nick, arguing about football. How could Nick think the Saints shouldn’t be in the Superbowl? They used to be so good. Why couldn’t they get it together and make a comeback?

Nick elbowed him. Who’s that?

John twisted around and peered over the white picket fence surrounding his typical suburban home. A taxi pulled against the curb. Squinting against the bright glare of the sun stinging his now-watery eyes, John tried without success to see the passenger in the backseat of the taxi. Not having much luck, considering the brilliance of the sun and the resulting blurry shadows and glare it cast, he shrugged but kept his eyes peeled. Probably the woman here to see the apartment.

Nick frowned. Why no car of her own?

John crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the post on his front porch. Lots of people in the inner city don’t drive. Maybe she’s looking for a place in the suburbs and she plans to get a vehicle later. Or maybe her car’s in the shop. Who knows?

Nick’s features and tone etched in suspicion. Must be in quite a hurry to snatch the place up dirt cheap. Can’t say as I blame her with the low-rental price-tag you put on it. It’s worth more than that, you know, John.

John bristled. He’d heard the commentary before. I know, but I don’t care about the money.

Nick sighed and patted his brother on the back. Okay. Sorry to bug you about it, again, man. Nick apologized half-heartedly then dropped the subject. Why isn’t she getting out of the car?

John eyed the taxi. The car door swung open. He went very still. An exotic woman exited the cab. He sucked in a breath. He’d never seen a more strikingly beautiful woman in his entire life. He narrowed his gaze. She looked familiar somehow.

Good Lord, she’s a knockout.

He stared at the vision before his hungry eyes, unable to pry his gaze from the intoxicating beauty in front of him, her mesmerizing fire engine red hair, unbound, and hanging down to her slim waist. She stood by the cab, unmoving, gripping the doorframe.

That’s Cindy Silvera?

Nick whistled low, leaned close, and whispered in John’s ear. Doesn’t look like she wants to be here.

That’s strange. She’s the one who called me about the apartment. John drew his eyes brows together in contemplation. His body reacted with anticipation, wanting her close. He’d like to use some of his other senses to get to know this woman better, other than sight.

The small, fragile-appearing, yet gorgeous woman pulled her purse from the seat of the cab and started to close the door. Then she stopped dead in her tracks and stared all around her, jaw dropped, face pale. John could tell, even from across his yard.

Odd. Did she expect something else? Something more? Did she think she was lost? She leaned against the body of the taxi, taking in her immediate surroundings.

John stared at her, slack-jawed. Nick spoke out of the side of his mouth. Do you think it’s the same woman? Maybe someone else saw the ad and dropped by to check it out from the outside, not expecting you, the landlord, to be standing in the front yard.

John shook his head with vigor. "This must be the same woman who called only minutes ago. She said she’d be right over."

Well, she sure seems skittish. At this rate, she might duck her head back into the cab, tuck her tail, and run like the wind.

John’s gaze drifted to her delicate hands. She sure as heck’s maintaining a white-knuckled grip on the door handle of the cab.

Nick nodded. Holding on for dear life, like it’s a lifeline or an umbilical cord.

John sighed. What’d gotten into his would-be tenant? Maybe he and his always-overly-suspicious brother jumped to unfounded conclusions. They usually did, especially after the horror they’d seen in their lifetimes.

Judging by the look of her, she might change her mind and bolt. You might not have a renter for your unit, after all. Nick’s voice held a hint of wry humor. His lips twitched.

John issued a noncommittal grunt and ogled the red-mane siren, who remained rooted to the pavement outside his well-kept yard. I can’t understand her reservations. Why does she have that deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes?

Nick shifted from one foot to the other. "I don’t know, bro, but since she’s looking at us as if one of us is the Devil himself, and the other is his loyal, demonic imp, she must have trust issues. She keeps glancing intermittently between your home, you, the cabbie, and me. She’s probably trying to decide which might be the safest route to take, if she decides, spur of the moment, to scram. In fact, she looks like she might swan-dive back inside the taxi and order the cabbie to drive like a bat out of Hell, so she can flee the premises as if chased by the very Hounds of Hell."

Nick’s crude summation of Cindy’s odd manner explained the woman to perfection, but John didn’t want her to retreat. She might need more than an apartment. She might be the kind of woman he’d leased the place to countless times before. If that was the case, he’d better find a way to make her stay, make her feel safe, then protect her, if his assessment proved correct.

So much for getting her into bed. It’d been his first inclination. He hadn’t been with a woman for a long time, not since...well, that grim reminder put a damper on his overactive libido. All he had to do was think of the last woman he’d slept with, and he remembered why he hadn’t taken another to bed since. His heart didn’t need that kind of ache, and his body could wait for his heart to heal, if it ever did.

I’d prefer she didn’t simply scamper away and disappear. Not that I need the money for the rental.

Nick huffed, as well aware of John’s investments as he was his own, connected financially by the resort they owned together, along with their older brother, Mack, the astute, well-known attorney-at-law.

I know you don’t need the money, John. I know you placed the ad in the paper, so someone who needs an inexpensive place to stay could answer the ad. I also know you like to help people, especially when they’re down and out. It’s an obsession with you, to try to help those less fortunate than yourself, like victims of abuse, fire, or some other tragedy, which is, of course, why you’ve listed your name with every single organization that aids women and children in need in this city.

John glowered at Nick. I know you know all that, and I’d prefer you keep your convoluted opinions to yourself for the time being. I also know you don’t approve of my methods and actions, and I got your point. I always get your point.

John glanced at the woman. Nick gave a grunt of disapproval. Before Nick could come back with an unwanted quip, John beat him to the punch. Anyway, this woman didn’t contact me from a shelter, and she didn’t mention anything to do with any link to the organizations I support. She simply responded to my ad in the paper.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t fit in the same mold as the other women who’ve stayed in your secluded apartment, women who’ve fled their husbands, and, more often than not, I might add, returned to the idiots who’ve pounded on them like punching bags, only to be further abused, even killed, sometimes, in the end.

John glanced at the woman, then at the cab, which rumbled on the curb, emitting a cloud of fog from his tail pipe. The car needed a tune up. He raised his gaze back to the woman. She needed help.

John sighed, hating the blatant truth of Nick’s assessment of the bleak situations of these sorts of submissive, dependent women who said they loved their abusers, as if they truly knew what love was. That’s why I do it, Nick. The lost causes. Those are the ones who need my assistance the most.

The woman paid the cabbie and stepped away from the taxi. John’s heartbeat sped up.

Watch yourself with this one. Nick’s voice edged with tension. "She doesn’t dress or look like any of the others did. She looks like she’s got money, and residual fear, enough for ten women like her, maybe more. You keep your guard up this time, John, you hear me? And keep in mind, your family, including me, wishes you’d stop going to such unreasonable lengths of generosity. You’re going to get burned again someday, bro, even if you do rent anonymously, permitting the women you harbor to keep the phone and electricity listed in your name, allowing them to hide out. You’re not some guardian angel that can’t be harmed, John. You’re human. Not even God expects you to risk your own life and limb."

John heaved a loud sigh. He was ever so glad his family cared, but sometimes he wished they’d stay out of his business. Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows what God expects? John put his hands up to halt Nick’s response. Okay. Okay. I’ll be careful, Nick, but that’s why I have you, my very own guardian angel, my great protector, my police officer extraordinaire brother. As long as you keep me hooked up with the best security devices and advice possible, and Mack keeps dishing out those lawyer-served restraining orders, well, then, myself, and all my wayward women—as you so aptly put it the last time I had problems with a prick of a husband—are good to go.

Nick grunted, watching the woman watch them. Yeah, right. You and all your women. When’s the last time you went on a real date?

Fuming and smoldering like a fire he and his fellow firemen might have to put out, practically on a daily basis, John blustered, Damn it, Nick, that’s not what I meant, and you know it and...

Nick put a hand up to ward off the rest of the tirade. Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. Nick changed the subject, inclining his head in the direction of the woman at the curb. What do you think? How much longer will she stand there before she tells the cabbie to go and wanders this way?

John shrugged, inhaled, tried to settle down and get his emotions under control, and ignored the hated memory of his past, the reason he didn’t date. He sent Cindy a measuring glance, Probably until we go speak to her.

Nick growled his denial. "What do you mean we?"

John chuckled, calming. "Okay. Not we. Me."

Nick placed his hand on John’s slouched shoulder. I realize you feel an obligation to these people, and I understand why.

John tensed, on guard again in an instant, waiting for the useless, unwanted commentary. Nick didn’t have a clue how he felt.

Nick offered a liquid grin. It’s a necessity for you, I know. You have to help them, to make up for those you weren’t, aren’t, and never will be able to save as a fireman. They haunt you, I’m sure, the lost souls that have died, and will die, before you could, and can, get to them, especially...

No. Don’t go there, Nick. Not now. Not today.

Not with a Heavenly apparition standing before me.

Cindy squared her shoulders and stepped forward. John assessed the gorgeous woman. She moved with the grace of an angel.

Nick wheezed out a breath. "Obviously, she’s made a quick decision not to bound away like a scared rabbit, which is exactly what the wary look in her eyes reminds me of; a haunted, hunted, wild animal. Nick grimaced. And I’ll bet we can both figure out why. We can pretty much guess what happened to her to give her that terrorized look. Nick shook his head. John’s stubborn stance remained unchanged, and his actions wouldn’t deter. I’m outta here, bro. Catch ya on the rebound. Let me know if you need anything."

John nodded his silent thanks, and Nick left through the side gate, hopped into his sports car, and spun his tires on the way out of the driveway in an obvious show of frustration.

Rebel.

John diverted his attention for an instant. Nick the cop would find a way out of the ticket he could get for such an act. John grinned. Crazy kid. Not that Nick was a kid, but he was the youngest of the three siblings, and Mack was the oldest. That made John the middle child, Mack the responsible older brother, and Nick the one they both spoiled. He’d grown up to be a hell of a man, though.

John turned his attention back to the street, swore under his breath, and went to greet Cindy, vowing he’d find a way to convince this woman to stay, so he could aid her, of course. Only so, he could aid her. His wanting her to stay had nothing to do with the tightening of his loins and the heat swirling low in his belly.

Nope. Nothing at all.

Two

For a few dread-filled , anticipatory moments, Cindy sat in the back of the taxi in a stupor, taking cover, gripping her over-sized, aqua-blue handbag to her chest. She told the cabbie to wait while she got a grip, trying to convince herself that fearing every man she came into contact with was illogical, irrational, and ridiculous, and that panicking at the sight of every good-looking male wouldn’t get her anywhere.

She wouldn’t be able to function in society if she dodged every man she met. Deep inside, she wanted, no needed, to trust this man. He was her last line of hope, even if he looked like he had the physical strength to dish out the same sort of pain and misery her evil, abusive, bully-of-a-husband, Giovanni, had dealt her.

Cindy gulped around the very large lump in her clogged throat, but she forced herself to buck up and exit the taxi, smooth out her ocean-blue sundress, and pull herself together.

She moved forward, slowly but surely, inch by alarming inch, deliberately putting one foot in front of the other. She’d spent a lot of time at John’s shelter for wayward women over the past six months, since she’d gotten up the nerve and stolen enough cash from the very rich, very vile, Giovanni to leave him. She’d heard John Brodderick’s name mentioned, repeatedly, almost with reverence, as if he were a savior of women and children on the run, like her, from their abusers.

Yes, her soon-to-be-ex, never-give-up, wanna-be-

murderous, millionaire husband had given her a raw deal. Still was. He and his cronies chased her like dogs, always on her heels, tailing her, seeking her out, often one-step ahead of her. They sometimes even showed up at a motel before she got there, looking for a place to conceal herself, hopefully undetected by Giovanni and his well paid lap dogs.

Cindy was sick to death of staying in motels and fed up with running from Giovanni and his mutts. Almost as tired of running from him as she’d been of him hitting her.

She’d wanted to hit him back, the very first time he’d beaten her down and put her in the hospital, but she hadn’t been strong enough. It irked her to no end that women were at such a physical disadvantage. It irked her even more that he’d been such a phony. He’d acted wonderful and sweet when they first met, then he’d turned into a sadistic son of a bitch right before her very eyes, as soon as he married her.

Cindy inhaled deep and long. She might be damaged goods with enough emotional baggage for ten women her age, but she wouldn’t let Giovanni win. She wouldn’t let him kill her as he’d so viciously promised through gnashing, snarling teeth countless times.

No, she wouldn’t let him win, not if she could find a way to escape his painful clutches permanently. She might be carrying around a large chip the size of Texas on her thin, narrow shoulders, but that didn’t matter. She’d find a way to be happy as soon as she could find a place to settle down and be safe.

Then she’d divorce the maniac, swiftly and decisively. She hoped this would be that place. She hoped too, the man standing in front of her was all she’d heard he was. She hoped he wasn’t some letch. She’d sworn off men, forever. All the better for her.

She walked toward John and introduced herself with all the enthusiasm she could muster. I’m Cindy Silvera, and I’m here to view the apartment you have for rent. I called a few minutes ago.

Her tremulous voice shook, giving her nervousness away, she feared. Her words faded, drifting to a hoarse whisper. She stood embedded where she was, planted to the sidewalk.

John offered her a kind smile and lifted the latch of the gate. He opened it wide and slipped through, turning his large body at an angle, allowing her to enter his beautiful yard. He closed the distance between them, ushering her into his domain and cutting off her escape.

I thought as much. I’m John Brodderick. Would you like to come in? John waved toward the front door.

Cindy nodded, stepping closer to the small but ornate cast-iron gate John held open for her. With a casual, confident grace, he reached for Cindy’s hand in greeting. Nice to meet you. If you’ll follow me.

His inviting smile widened as he pumped her hand and gestured for her to go ahead of him. He latched the gate and locked her in. Cindy flinched, trying to maintain her bearings and ignore how her hand tingled from his touch. His hand swallowed hers. She added big hands to John’s outstanding attributes, but she admitted they were also gentle hands, not to fear, she hoped, as Giovanni’s massive, brutal fists were. He towered over her, a veritable giant at six-foot plus, compared to her five-foot five-inch brittle, bendable frame.

John chuckled and spoke in an even tone, his deep, smooth voice having a soothing effect on Cindy’s taut, jittery nerves. I’m sure you’ve got me pegged for the nosy, overbearing landlord type by now, but you’re wrong, John assured her, almost as if he understood her lack of enthusiasm. "I’ll only bother you when you ask, if you ask, and, of course, when I need to check on you and see if you’re safe or if you need anything fixed in, or purchased for the apartment. Come on inside now."

Good Lord, but being this close to John tested her fear factor and resilience. Hanging out with John—in order to get herself over her fear of men like Giovanni—was the equivalent of jumping off a tall bridge into