Christmas Obsession

by Darcy Rose

  She shakes her head. “No.” Her voice is soft. Sweet. Just the way I would’ve imagined it. Nobody as angelic and fragile-looking as the girl in front of me would have a harsh, raspy voice. It wouldn’t fit.

  “So you understand what I’m saying? Tell me you understand.”

  “I understand. Only please, please don’t—”

  “Spare me.” I’ve heard it enough to make me sick. Please, don’t hurt me. Please, I’ll do anything. I have a wife and kids. My mom needs me. I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, I swear. Please, don’t make me pay for my stupid choices.

  Her eyes go a fraction wider. “It’s just that I didn’t see anything. You know? Nothing at all. I’ll just go home and forget this ever happened.”

  Right. Like that would be possible. I stop short of rolling my eyes at her, but just barely, before yanking the backpack from her shoulder before she has the chance to stop me. Not like she could if she tried, considering the size of her. “What’s your name, huh?” I make it a point to sound as menacing as I can because this girl needs to be afraid. Very afraid. It’s the only thing that’ll shut her up.

  “M—Madison.” She wraps her arms around herself and trembles. So it looks like her body is finally waking up to what she witnessed. She’s starting to understand the trouble she’s in.

  “Madison, huh?” Sure enough, the wallet I pull out of the front pocket of the bag confirms this. Madison Miller, age eighteen. She lives a few blocks from here.

  “What are you doing?” It’s barely a whisper through chattering teeth.

  “I’m learning what I can about you, Madison Miller.” I thrust the bag at her, wallet included. “And now I know where you live. You know what that means, right?” When she nods, I push harder. “Tell me what it means.”

  Her brow furrows. “You’ll come to my place if you find out I told on you.”

  I could laugh, I really could. She sounds like a little kid tattling in the schoolyard. Is she really that innocent? Or is shock turning her into this scared, whispering little girl?

  Whatever it is, I have to take it and use it. “That’s right. I’ll come to your place—or, if you’re really unlucky, I’ll send somebody less merciful than me. You realize I could’ve blown you away by now, right? They won’t make it that easy, I promise.”

  “I get it.” And oh, look here, there’s an edge to her voice. Not as sharp as it could be, but I hear it. And damned if I don’t respect her a little more now. She’s not as fragile as she looks.

  Though she’s still a tiny little thing and this is a shithole of a neighborhood. I wouldn’t normally come here except to straighten somebody out. I look to the right, then the left. “You out here all alone?”

  “Yes!” she gasps. “There’s nobody here with me.”

  “What are you, stupid or something? For fuck’s sake. Who walks around out here on their own at this time of night? You’re practically begging to walk in on something like this.” I wave a hand in the direction of the dead man, his body half-hidden behind a row of trash cans, while I pull out my phone.

  “What are you doing now?”

  “Just shut up and stay where you are. Don’t forget what’s tucked in my pants. Got it?” She nods, trembling harder, as the call picks up.

  “Talk to me. Is it done?” My brother, Ace, oldest of all of us. Now that Dad’s gone he thinks he’s hot shit, the unofficial father figure, but it’s not easy to forget all the dumb shit a person pulled when they were a kid. I know him too well.

  “It is, but there’s been a complication.” I glance at her, meeting her gaze. God, she’s got gorgeous eyes. I could fall into those eyes and drown. What would they look like if she was happy? If I made her happy?

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. But I’m gonna need you to send somebody down here for clean-up.” I give him the location while watching Madison for any sign that she’s about to flee. While I doubt anybody would think twice about the double-crossing bookie turning up dead in an alley a few blocks down from where he was last seen, it’s not like we want the cops breathing down our necks. Especially when I was seen leaving the bar with him.

  Though I don’t think anybody in there would be stupid enough to rat me out. Still, no taking chances.

  “On it. You sure you’ve got this covered?”

  Sometimes he forgets I’m twenty-three, not thirteen. “Got it.” After that I end the call before he finds some other way to insult me or otherwise insinuate I might not have things under control.

  Like this is my first hit, for Christ’s sake.

  Once that’s taken care of, I take hold of Madison’s elbow. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “Oh, my God…” Tears fill her eyes and spill onto her cheeks. I don’t know whether to slap some sense into her or comfort her, and the fact that there’s even a choice to be made terrifies me deep down inside. It’s like there’s something inside me that’s never been there before. Pity? Sympathy? Either way, I don’t like it.

  “Shut up, for God’s sake. Stop blubbering. I’m walking you home, is all.” I pull her a few steps further away from the alley and the body there.

  “Walking me home?”

  “Are you a parrot? And stop crying, would you? There’s nothing to cry about. So long as you’re smart and remember what I told you. Think you can do that?”

  She drags the back of her hand under both eyes and squares her shoulders. Something about that tiny gesture hits me hard. The girl has no reason to believe me after witnessing what I did a few minutes ago, but she’s willing to play along. She’s that brave.

  And a fucking idiot. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is to be walking around out here in the middle of the night? All alone? It’s amazing this is the first hit you ever walked in on.”

  “Who says it’s the first?”

  She surprises me into stopping dead in my tracks just before reaching the sidewalk. “It’s not?”

  “No, of course it is. I don’t even know why I said that.” She looks at the ground, where broken glass glitters like diamonds between weed-choked cracks in the concrete.

  Something tells me I’m not going to be able to get this girl out of my head for a long time, and that’s a real problem. But it doesn’t stop me from continuing on with her, one hand on her arm in case she decides to do anything stupid.

  His Ballerina is coming soon!

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  About the Author

  If you like your stories short, taboo and kinky, then a Darcy Rose book is perfect for you. She writes about shy and innocent heroines, to match them up with dark and intense heroes who have only eyes for one girl.