Immoral Obsession

by Theresa Papa

  Jake pulls me over out of the line of foot traffic to face him.

  “Do you have plans for dinner tonight?” His expression is hopeful as he looks down at me. Since I already decided to say yes to him, I spread my lips in a closed mouth smile and shake my head. He reciprocates with a beaming smile and reveals his plan.

  “I have been dreaming of going to this one restaurant since I’ve been here, but I didn’t want to go alone. Will you save me for the second time today from being alone in a big city? Come have dinner with me?”

  “I would love to have dinner with you, Jake. Which restaurant has you so intrigued?”

  “How about I surprise you! Come on, let’s get my car.”

  Jake’s rental car is a black Chrysler 300. When we get in the car, Jake reaches in the glove box and pulls out a cell phone. I guess he’s not chained to his cell phone like I used to be.

  “Excuse me just a second,” he says as he checks something on the device. Then he turns it off again and puts it in his pocket.

  “Not a slave to your cell phone like the rest of society, I see.”

  “I haven’t seen you with one all day either.” He grins behind his retort. “Maybe I don’t like interruptions.”

  “Mine’s keeping my wallet company.” I lie by omission. Marcus smashed my phone when he jailed me. I’m not sure what he did with my wallet or if it is still in my locker at Club Beta.

  The ride is quick, and I can easily guess where his chosen place will be when he turns onto Halsted Street. Although the authentic old-world Greek restaurant has been a frequent dinner destination of my past, I don’t let Jake know. I want him to enjoy showing me his choice, so I go along and let him lead the way. We sit at a nice table for two and enjoy all the Greek delicacies I’ve always loved. Jake is charming, and he makes me all warm inside—or maybe it’s the second glass of wine I just finished—but wow, I’m flushed.

  “Excuse me, I’m going to visit the ladies’ room,” I whisper as I push my chair out to get up. Jake is right behind me, one hand on the chair and one hand on my waist to steady me. I thank him and make my way to the hallway in the back where the bathrooms are. The facilities are designed for one person at a time, so I’m alone in the restroom. Before I leave, I wash my hands and get a first glimpse of my rosy face. I’m a little off balance and warm. I have to remember to stop being so stupid to let a guy make me forget the true danger I’m facing. I need to be sharp and strong while on the run. It helps somewhat to splash some cool water on my face and pat it dry with a paper towel. A loud knock on the door shocks me.

  “Be out in a second,” I yell. I throw away the paper towel, smooth my dress down with my hand, and open the door. The hallway is now devoid of the light it had when I entered. I’m uneasy, especially when the bathroom light shuts off automatically behind me. I clench my eyes shut briefly and wait to adjust to the darkness. The spring hinge pops the door into my back, propelling me into the hallway. I reach out to use the wall as a guide to walk a few steps when a large sweaty hand covers my mouth, and I’m dragged backward.

  The self-defense training kicks into my brain, and I make my move to punch my fist backward into his groin while I jam my heel into his foot. The man must be immune to pain because all I get for my efforts is a grunt. My feet aren’t even touching the ground anymore as he shoulders his way through the back door out into the alleyway. The wine has weakened me. With all my strength, I fight him but to no avail. I look up and see Jake running toward us.

  “Hel … eeek …” I try to scream, but it’s muffled by the large hands that push down on my diaphragm. I kick and punch him, but he just holds me down. A crashing pain hits the top of my head, and I land on a car face down. Then suddenly he’s gone. Jake is saving me … my legs are like jelly. I can’t prevent myself from sliding down the car to the ground like the soapsuds on the windshield in the carwash. The surface of the asphalt seemingly comes up to greet me with its chemical tar stench as it fills my nose. My vision fills with black dots that progressively grows larger; they melt into each other until it’s consumed with blackness.

  Chapter 8 (Later that night)

  Liz Pope

  My eyelids stick like they’ve been glued shut when I try to peel them open. The crushing pain in my head makes my stomach roil, and the unfamiliar darkened room closes in. Sheer panic overwhelms me as I remember the man at the restaurant who tried to abduct me. Did he succeed? Jake was there to save me, wasn’t he? Am I responsible for harm coming to poor Jake while these perverts snatched me?

  To move my limbs is next to impossible as every muscle screams in protest from my fight with the beefy attacker. All the self-defense classes and training I had flew out the window. The guy had three things going for him. Number one, he was huge; number two, he had the element of surprise; but most of all, number three, I allowed myself to drink too much. When I try to lift my head, the excruciating pain in my neck and skull whacks me back down. Part of it could be a hangover, but I took a pretty hard blow to the head. The tears come when the helplessness and weakness overwhelm me. The more I contemplate the fact I am alone, nobody knows where I am, and nobody cares, the more I cry. Finally, I can’t stop myself from falling back into a deep sleep.

  The next time I’m coherent, sunlight streams through the windows. I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut to adjust to the brightness. Pain shoots through my skull once again, but it’s mild compared to last night. The distant memory of waking and falling unconscious again a few times during the night is evident. This time when I try to move my limbs, it’s possible but painful with muscle cramps and stiffness. I slowly try to sit up on the side of the small twin bed, letting my tingling feet rest flat on the floor. The blood rushes back down to my toes as I wiggle them.

  Slowly, I glance around. The small bedroom is sparsely furnished with the bed, a dresser with attached mirror, and a rocking chair. One window faces the house next door, and the other has a partial view of a lake. Where the hell am I? Last night I was afraid, but now I’m more curious.

  On shaky legs, I stand and walk over to the mirror. Raccoon eyes and witch hair stare back at me as another sharp pain shoots through my head. My hands instinctively grab my head, and I feel a bandage where someone patched up a cut. If they were bad, why would they patch my head? Maybe to keep me healthy so they get all the money? I’m moving in slow motion; I have to figure out if I’m in danger here. I look around the room to find something to use as a weapon. The only thing heavy enough with its metal encrusted flowers is the antique hand mirror on the dresser. Silently, I open the door a crack and listen for any noises, but it’s quiet. With one hand on the wall for balance and my trusty weapon raised in the other, I tiptoe into the hallway and hope the floor won’t creak. The old stately house seems deserted.

  Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. I jump with a gasp. My heart almost beats out of my chest at the sound. The chimes on an antique grandfather clock signal it’s six o’clock on the dot. When my breathing and heart rate slow back to normal, I resume my search for signs of life. The wooden floors are rough under my bare feet. At the end of the hallway is a bedroom with double doors. That must be the master. When I peek into the room, a breath escapes me with relief. I let my arm with the hand that holds my mirrored weapon fall to my side as I shakily lean against the doorjamb and take in the scene.

  There in the king-sized bed looking scrumptiously sexy is my hero, Jake. The sheet is half off and woven around him like he wrestled with himself in his sleep. The sound of his even breathing confirms he’s in a deep sleep. The muscles in his chiseled shoulders flex with the way he hugs the pillow. My eyes travel down his sexy back to a sculpted ass complete with the indents on the sides that make all the models look great in their underwear. I should get out of here. It would be embarrassing for us both if he woke up. Just as that crosses my mind, he bends one leg up. Oh yeah, too much of a view now! The fellas from behind are a little too intimate for where we are in our relations
hip. My hand pops up over my mouth to stifle my giggle; I turn and place my weapon on the hallway table. Then I stop and offer up a little prayer in thanks that a weapon isn’t needed.

  Carefully, I hold on the thick mahogany railing as I tiptoe down the stairs to the main level. The home’s foyer is grand with black and white tiles framed by tall ornate moldings and wainscot. On my descent, the crystal chandelier sparkles at me, ornately stunning. It complements the wall sconces that flank the entrances to the living room and the dining room. The kitchen is just as opulent with updated appliances and lovely appointments that hold true to the age and dignity of the home. As I admire the unobstructed majestic view of the lake through the windows in the back of the house, I open the French doors. Then I proceed out onto the wraparound porch to sit and appreciate the scenery. I close my eyes and enjoy the soft breeze and sunshine.

  “I was worried when I went to check on you and you had disappeared. How are you feeling this morning?” Jake softly whispers next to my ear.

  “Oh, my gosh.” I jump, alarmed at how quietly he snuck up on me. “Jake, you could’ve made some noise. You freaked me out.”

  He sits next to me and snickers while he puts his arm around me and pulls me into his side. “Well, after almost being abducted by some huge sumo wrestler last night, I can understand why you would be jumpy.” He kisses the top of my head. “How’s your head?”

  I breathe in to calm my nerves, getting the sweetest waft of Jake’s scent. He must have just showered because his hair is wet, and he smells fresh and clean. Unlike me, I’m afraid. I try not to be too self-conscious as I answer him.

  “Every now and then, I get a shooting pain, but I’m okay.”

  “That guy was trying to kidnap you, wasn’t he? I had to knock him unconscious so I could get you out of there. He kept saying that he wasn’t leaving without taking you with him.”

  “Um … yeah … I don’t know. Did you call the police? Or give them a description. What happened after I blacked out?”

  “I got you the hell out of there before he got up again. There was no time to call the police. That guy was huge; it was pure luck that I found a car jack on the ground to hit him with.”

  “Should we call the police with his description now?”

  “After I hit him, to be honest, I was afraid to be arrested on assault charges. I think you need to rest right now, and we need to go get your wallet with your identification before doing any of that. I’m going to cook you some breakfast, and then we can get some aspirin in you for the headache. Is scrambled eggs and bacon okay?” He looks down at me and smiles.

  “That sounds heavenly because I’m starving. But while you cook, do you mind if I do two quick things?” I put my hands together like I’m praying while I ask him. “Could I use a computer to send a note to my friend? I have to let them know I’m safe. And can I take a shower to clean up quickly?”

  He wraps his hands around mine and grins.

  “I already put fresh towels in the bathroom. It’s the first door on the right as you go up the stairs. And my laptop is in the master bedroom on the nightstand. You can help yourself.” Jake pulls me up with him and gives me a hug, “I’m so glad I was there to help you, and you’re all right.”

  “Thank you, Jake. Me too.”

  Once upstairs, I find Jake’s laptop exactly where he said it would be. He’s so trusting and sweet; a pang of guilt comes over me when I consider how I’ve unwillingly let this go too far already. I’ve disguised my disgraceful black soul once again, causing another man to have feelings for me. I’ve lost sight once more of my quest for absolution by ridding this world of the darkness that is Richard Harrington. I have allowed the possibility for another broken heart. The anger, a nest in my heart pecking away at the chambers, only prolongs the misery of the truth I now know all too well. The blood-pumping organ housed within my chest will forever remain just a physical, life-sustaining orb—never worthy of the emotional, spiritual, and affectionate devotion that comes with true love. I can only have solace in the knowledge that when I one day destroy the devil, the world will be a much more divine and safe place for the children.

  When I snap out of my usual contempt for myself, I type something short:

  Tony,

  I’m aware of the fact you wanted to rescue me from that sleazy Marcus at the club. The day before you were scheduled to show, the opportunity presented itself for me to escape. I gladly took it, knowing I would never forgive myself if any harm came to you because of me. Please don’t try to find me. There are so many psychotic perverts looking for me that I’m hidden pretty well. The sick bastard is offering a lot of cash for me, so all the lowlifes think they can easily kidnap me, turn me over to him, and cash in. Listen, I can’t be in one place too long. Gotta go. Liz

  I quickly send Tony the email to let him know I’m all right. Then I go into the bathroom for a shower. The hot water running down my body soothes all the soreness. I don’t ever want to get out, but Jake waits with breakfast. My stomach rumbles, and it makes me get going. When I dig in my bag for some clean clothes, Marcus’s phone falls out. I try to fight the urge to turn it on. But to look at how close any of the scumbags are to me might be wise in case I need to leave. The phone boots up, and the app shows that big red dot right next to a new body of water that must be this lake. The other multi-colored dots are still miles away, so I quickly shut it down. I contemplate destroying the phone and teeter once again with the decision. It shows me the locations of my would-be captors, giving me the lead in staying a step ahead. Then I circle around to the fact that it’s tracking me, too. When I search for “how to stop people from tracking your phone,” it instructs me to turn off the location services. I quickly switch them off and hope it’s enough to outsmart Richard and his game players.

  “Breakfast is ready.” Jake’s voice calls up the stairs. I discard my dilemma, throw the phone back in the bag for now, and hurry down.

  When I descend the stairs once more, dressed casually in running shorts and a tank, the wonderful aromas of breakfast lure me straight to the kitchen. Jake is at the stove cooking eggs and bacon as I lean against the counter.

  “Is this your home, Jake? It’s picturesque. What lake is this?”

  “Thank you. That is Lake Geneva. I grew up here. This was my parents’ home, and now it’s mine.”

  I’m slightly disconcerted at the enthusiasm he put into those last few words. But who am I to analyze how people interact with their parents?

  “Have a seat at the table on the porch and pour yourself some coffee out of the carafe. I’ll be right out with the food,” Jake directs with a gesture of his chin toward the porch.

  The table is set with lovely white and blue china dishes, linen napkins, and even flowers. When did he get the flowers and food from the store? Must have been when I was unconscious. Why didn’t he take me to the hospital?

  “Jake, this is lovely! When did you shop for food and flowers?” I ask loudly enough for him to hear me inside.

  Carrying a large bowl of scrambled eggs, a platter of bacon, and toast, he approaches the table. Jake looks so handsome in the chef’s apron tied around his neck and back. I get up to help him, take the bowl, and set it in the middle of the table as he does the same with the platter. We both sit, and he dishes the food onto my plate while he answers my question.

  “I stopped at the country store on the way up here like I always do. You were asleep in the car. It only took a minute, and we were back on the road and here five minutes later.” He smiles and takes a bite of his eggs.

  “Was I sleeping or unconscious from the blow to my head? Did you wonder if you should take me to the hospital?” I inquire while I try not to show a critical expression on my face. It didn’t work because a glimmer of anger passes over him quickly but is masked just as fast.

  “I was nervous to take you to a hospital with no identification. I used to be a paramedic a few years back before my parents died. I made su
re you were doing well before I put you to bed. You might not remember, but you regained consciousness, and I checked you out.”

  “Oh yeah, I guess you’re right,” I concede, not wanting to make a big deal.

  I exhale and look away toward the lake at a small boat speeding by the pier at the edge of Jake’s property. A woman walks on a path that bisects the yard about three-quarters of the way to the lake. She waves at Jake, and he waves back without any other reaction on his face.

  We eat in silence for the rest of the meal, and I wonder if I made him so angry that he won’t talk to me. But then as we wash the dishes together, he cages me in against the counter with a kiss that curls my toes. I like kissing him. It makes me feel warm all over, and his hard body pressed against mine turns me on. The warmth between my thighs makes me want to forget that I ought to go. I shouldn’t let this get any further, should I?

  Chapter 9

  Tony Dragonetti

  The pile of work that waits on my desk will not be getting done today. I roll my head from side to side, stretching the tense muscles in my neck. I sit here and wait for word from my private investigator. My mind is only on my Liz. I call her mine in my head because nine years ago, the first time I kissed her, my heart claimed her as my own. The picture I took of her when she was happy and carefree sits on my desk. Her silky dark hair flows behind her, and eyes that would put the most vibrant emeralds to shame stare back at me. She’s young in the photo. Liz was eighteen years old, graduating from high school, and I was twenty-two, graduating from college. I check my watch once again, a ritual today, when there’s a knock on the door.

  “Come on in. Hey, Mike, have a seat.”

  Michael Spinnelli is my VP of gaming operations at the new division of my family’s company Dragon Entertainment and Hospitality. When I came on board six years ago, my father’s interests were mostly hotels, income properties, and exotic travel destinations. Three years ago, I pioneered the entertainment portion of the corporate name by getting involved with nightclubs, casinos, video games, and apps.