Read Wounded Birds (The Grayson Series Book 1) for Free Online Page B

posture stiff.
    I gasp. “No,” I choke out.
    “Ariana, you don’t have a choice. We need to know what were in those chocolates,” he grounds out, his eyes piercing through me. The tension in the air is so thick I can slice it with a knife.
    I shake my head again. “Please don’t,” I whisper.
    He sits and lets out a frustrated sigh, rolls his eyes, and pulls out his iPhone from his suit jacket and speaks into the phone. “Call Josh.” Michael hits the speaker on his cell phone.
    A few seconds later, a man answers, “Hello, Michael.”
    “Josh, are you in the city?”
    “Yes. I’m about to walk out of the office. What’s wrong? You sound upset.”
    “Concerned would be the right term. I need you with your medical bag, or whatever you doctors carry, over to a friend’s apartment and fast. Her name is Ariana DiMarco. I’ll explain everything when you arrive. Oh, and bring the drug analyzer you keep in the office.” He stands and paces across my living room like a caged animal.
    “Text me with the address, and I’ll be right over. Who’s Ariana?” Josh questions.
    Michael messages the address. “You’ll know soon enough. I need you here ASAP, please,” he snaps and ends the call.
    Who was he speaking to? His personal physician?
    Michael makes another call. “Call Trent.”
    I hear a ring, and the other party picks up. “Grayson Investigations and Security. Trent speaking.”
    “Trent, Michael. I’m at a friend’s apartment. Her name is Ariana DiMarco. I need you here and fast. I’ll text you her address,” Michael orders.
    “Ariana DiMarco,” he repeats, followed by a long pause. “You mean the host from Global Networks? How did you land a date with her?”
    “Yes, and don’t be a wise ass.”
    “What’s wrong, bro?”
    “She has a demented fan.”
    “I’m already in the car. Give me ten to twenty minutes.”
    “Michael, you’re worrying me. Who are Josh and Trent, and why are they coming here?” I ask curiously.
    “Ariana, those men are my brothers. Josh is the eldest. He’s an internist with his own practice in Manhattan and puts in time at NW Hospital. Trent is the youngest, a former FBI agent and owns a private investigating and security company.”
    “And they’re coming here . . . for what?” I inquire.
    He paces like a restless animal in circles, his tall, sleek form overpowering the room. His hands rest over his hips, his eyes burning with frustration. “My God, Ariana, what am I going to do with you? The substance you consumed concerns me, more like overwrought, and your refusal to go to the hospital is distressing me.”
    I have obviously exasperated him. After holding his breath for God knows how long, he releases it, gaping up at the ceiling and then back at me. “He must have added some sort of sedative, according to the note. I won’t know for sure until Josh and Trent arrive,” he explains as his gaze drifts toward the box of chocolates.
    He treads across the room, massaging the back of his neck. He seems to be deep in thought, tormented with anxieties. I sense something else . . . sadness, as though he’s fighting his own demons. He paces a few times and heads towards the double glass doors and walks out onto the terrace, gazing down at the flurry of activity in the city. I’m touched by this man whose only known me for a few hours, and yet he is worried about me.
    I shut my eyes for a brief moment, and he startles me as he shuts the door closed and asks me a question.
    “I hope you don’t mind, but I would like to have my brother Trent help you. My first instinct was to call the police, but if he’s watching you; he'll know you alerted the authorities. We can’t take any chances,” he explains as he lays his hands over his hips.
    “I don’t know Michael.” I shake my head, still reeling over the fact that I have a psychopath stalking me. Taunting me with his unsettling e-mails, his phone call and sedating me with drugged chocolates. To add icing on