Obsession (Stalker #1)

by Alice C. Hart

  Obsession

  The Stalker Series

  Book One

  Alice C. Hart

  Edited by Colleen Lee

  Cover Design by Katrina Arthurs

  Poem by Caroline Baker

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Do not participate in encouraging piracy of copyrighted materials in violation with the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. This book is a work of fiction. Any references to people, events, establishments, organizations, or locations are only intended to provide a sense of authenticity and are used facetiously. All events, people, as well as dialogue are from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any music mentioned in this book belongs to the rightful owners.

  ISBN-13: 978-1511446969

  ISBN-10: 151144696X

  Dedicated

  to all the strong

  women in my family

  I love you all

  Ma, you always say I have a way with words.

  Prologue

  The first time I saw Abby Osborne, I knew I had to have her. Before the coffee shop doors had swung closed behind her, plans for our future took on a life of their own.

  I want to own her. I want to breathe her. I want to see her smile. I want to see her cry. But, more than anything, I want to watch as panic seizes her immobile. I need to see the look on her face when she realizes the man in the coffee shop, the same man she couldn’t spare a second glance at, is the one who will love her so fiercely that she’ll never be the same.

  I set a plan in motion to casually insert myself into her life. It took me forever to get myself in the precise place and position I wanted to be with her.

  Then something, or should I say someone, happened that would change my plans.

  However, until the time comes for our happily ever after, I'll be forced to endure the hell of witnessing her stumble through the life she doesn't know she's about to lose.

  Stalker

  I’ve always watched. I like to watch. Watching gets me off. I love the feeling of not being seen. When you watch someone and they don’t know it, you inevitably learn everything about them. I only watch women; the ones that most people don’t notice on a day to day basis. Women, like that, never suspect they are being watched. Yes, the everyday woman who is single or dating, but not in a monogamous relationship, but will fuck on occasion. And you guessed it; I will watch her fuck a guy while jerking off in my own hand in order to find the sweet release I crave.

  There are the beautiful moments when I get to watch a woman break out her toys and watch her make herself come. Fuckin’ beautiful moments like this keep me going. Watching the pure bliss on a woman’s face when she can get herself off is something I will never be able to quit. I love watching her squirm; her quivering legs, hardening nipples, her toes curling. God, I love women’s feet.

  Abby is gorgeous and doesn’t know it. I’m positive that our life together will be nothing but pure bliss for us both. This thought excites me and I need to jerk off at the very thought of her. One day soon, she will see how much I love her, want her, need her, and then, we will build our life together.

  I’ve never hurt anyone before. Then, I saw Abby and all the rules changed. I don’t think anything could have prepared me for the force that is Abby Osborne.

  I’ve been watching her for quite some time now, about eight months. I saw her in a coffee shop and it was like I was struck by fucking lightning. I followed her afterwards and saw she worked at a shelter and set to motion my plan to insert myself into her life.

  The thing about plans is that they don’t always go accordingly.

  Abby

  I came screaming into the world on April 27th, 1985, at 3:33 a.m. My mother, Bonnie, was only eighteen years old when she had me. My sperm donor, I mean, my father’s name is Andrew and he was twenty-one years old, and not even close to being in a place to be a father. My father once told me that he watched me being born while he was strung out on acid. I was fourteen when I received that memo. Thanks, dick.

  “I’ll never forget it, Abby,” he would always say to me. Well shit, I guess fuckin’ not, Pops. Then he told me that they ordered pizza and were taking bets on who would arrive first, me or the pizza. I haven’t seen him since.

  Yes, my mother fell for a bad boy when she was only fifteen years old herself, and was pregnant with me at seventeen. My father would bounce in and out of my life periodically and it never seemed to go well. I used to ask my mother if she was positive he was my father. Her response was always the same, ‘Unfortunately, yes.’

  This in itself was not starting my life out on a super path. I will, however, always look back to my mother and know she did the best she could with what she had.

  My grandmother was only thirty-eight when I was born, and told my mother that I must be part devil for being born at 3:33 a. m. - she’s referencing that 666 stands for the Devil’s number and that clearly I will be half a little devil. She is sixty-seven now and still believes I am, in fact, half a little devil. Bless her heart.

  Thank God, Bonnie was smart enough not to name me after my father. She named me Abigail Mackenzie Osborne (not my father’s Italian last name of D’Angelo) which has always made me happy because I love my name, and want zero ties with my sperm donor.

  My ma raised me alone and, let’s face it; I could have turned out a lot worse considering my genetics.

  Three years after I was born, my mom’s sister, Tina, would give birth to my cousin Dallas. Tina decided to name Dallas after her father, Frank Davidson, who would never appear in Dallas’ life again. Don’t be sad for her. She’s perfectly fine. Dallas Davidson, twenty-six years old, blonde, brown eyed, five foot nothing, pain in the ass. She’s my best friend and like a baby sister to me, and I will be the MOH (Maid of Honor) for her wedding next year.

  Dallas and I, alone without the other, are enough for any one person to handle. Put the two of us together and look the fuck out. We are two crazy bitches that do and say as we please. We smoke pot, giggle like idiots, call each other colorful names and we are pretty sure the rest of our family hates us when we are together. Pffft, we are awesome and think if we had our own TV show, people would watch! How do we know this, you ask? Dallas’ fiancé, Justin, has a habit of videotaping us (not in like a weird creepy way, because that’s gross!) whenever we cook together, smoke pot together, or are singing like rock stars in the car. Ok, we probably shouldn’t be singing, as we do sound like cats howling in heat, but embracing your inner rock star in the car is always a good time!

  We roll with some other bitches, too; Amanda and Kim, and twins Nicole and Natalie. We are a fuckin’ blast, at least we think so! Good times are always had by all when we are together. These bitches are my family and I love them fiercely.

  Abby

  “You fuckin’ cunt, go fuck yourself!” the angry homeless man shouts.

  It’s like they think this gets to me. I’m practically numb to name calling at this point. Working at a men’s homeless shelter for seven years will do that to you.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but you will need to speak to a case worker before you will be allowed back inside.”

  This is a normal and acceptable response for front line workers at The Shelter. I work with addicts, men with mental illness, concurrent disorders, and a multitude of other problems. It’s a hard job and I try not to bring my work home with me. Some days are harder than others. Some things linger in your mind and make you a more jaded person than you were ever mea
nt to be.

  “Are you ok, Abby?” asks Jake.

  “Yeah, Jake, I’m cool. It’s part of the job and I’m almost used to it by now.”

  Fuck me sideways. Jake Jackson has got to be the hottest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on. There is no shortage of hot men where I work. What’s even better is when I get to play damsel in distress and have all the boys running to make sure I’m ok. Let’s just call that a perk of the job since I don’t have many, and working at a shelter isn’t as rewarding as one might think.

  “Abby, I’d like to see you in my office, if you don’t mind,” Jake commands, politely.

  “Sure, lemme just have a quick smoke and I’ll be right up.” I need a smoke right now.

  If I didn’t smoke, I don’t know how I could do this job. What the fuck do people do when they get stressed out and don’t smoke, anyway? I’m almost positive Jake just wants to check in and make sure I’m ok after being verbally assaulted, again, by a homeless dude.

  I walk outside for my smoke and am immediately swarmed by men asking me for my smokes. For fuck’s sakes! Why did I come out the front to smoke? Telling them all no, I walk away.

  I get to the sidewalk where there are far less people around, and look up at the window. I can see Jake in his office, looking at me. I put my cigarette between my lips and light up, inhaling the smoke and filling my lungs before letting out a long waft of smoke. I’m looking right at Jake. I see him grin, shake his head, and walk away from the window.

  Yeah, that’s right, Hottie McHotterson, I see you watching me and I like it.

  Jake Jackson is about six feet tall, with a big boned, but not overly muscular frame. He’s thick and solid and has dark brown hair that’s short, which makes him look gangsta bad ass. I have a weakness for bad ass guys. Who doesn’t? I just need to find the right combination of hotness and bad ass without the guy being a complete dickhead. I know he’s got some fucked in the head ex-wife and I know all about his baby girl, Isabelle. She’s so cute, I could squish her face.

  I make my way upstairs to Jake’s office and see him sitting at his desk. He is lost in thought and staring at the computer screen. He doesn’t notice me so I lightly knock on the door, letting him know I’m here. He looks up.

  “Come in and have a seat, Abby.”

  I sit and immediately feel my palms get sweaty. Why am I intimidated by his hotness, anyway?

  “Abby, I know a woman working in a men’s shelter can be difficult. But, it is imperative these men have positive female role models in their lives.” Jake is staring me right in the eyes. His hazel green looking into my hazel brown and I think I’ve stared like a minute too long.

  “Jake, I appreciate the pep talk and I know you want to make sure I’m ok, and I am. I always am. I’ve been here seven years and understand what I’m working with, but thanks so much for checking on me. It’s about time I pack up my crap and head home, anyway.” I get up to leave and Jake stops me.

  “How about I give you a ride home tonight?”

  Say wha? Jake and I have had this little thing where we casually flirt with each other. Since starting here, he’s never asked to drive me home. My heart is racing. I need to stay cool.

  “Sure, you can drive me home. I don’t live too far, anyway.”

  I start gathering up my stuff while the next shift comes in. Jake does his shift change with the next supervisor on duty and then gathers up his stuff, and we walk down the hall towards the parking lot. Since I don’t have a car, and usually take the bus, this is a nice treat. It’s past midnight and he doesn’t want me taking the bus home. He’s probably just being careful because he thinks I let these guys affect me.

  We get to his car, which turns out to be a Jeep Wrangler – black, goddamn! Did he just open the door for me? What the fuck? Do guys even still do that? I thought it was an urban legend! Oh, Jesus Christmas, he just helped me climb in and I’ll be damned if I did not feel a partial hand on my ass. Should I have stuck it out more so he got the full grab? No, don’t be a whore for him, Abby!

  He shuts my door and I buckle in as he walks around to the driver’s side and hops in.

  “Like my Jeep, Abby?”

  “Hell, yeah, I like it! When did you get it?” It’s like he knows my weakness for Jeeps.

  “Last weekend and it’s one of my new favorite toys,” he says with a grin, and then smirks.

  He fuckin’ knows he can have me. I know it. FUCK ME! Why am I so transparent?

  We pull out of the parking lot and start heading to my place located in the shady part of downtown Toronto. I don’t live far and there is a bar right by my apartment.

  “Should we have a drink, Abby?”

  Deer caught in the headlights here… Someone help me, for I am weak!

  “I would like that. But this isn’t the nicest bar around.”

  “I know, I’ve been here numerous times, and it’s perfectly fine,” Jake says.

  We find a booth and at the same time a waitress quickly approaches us. Her name tag says Sami. Sami smiles brightly, batting her long lashes at Jake, asking him what he’d like. Insert eye roll here. Jake smiles at her and her batting lashes and orders a Rye and Coke for himself and an Amaretto Sour for me.

  He actually knows my drink! “How do you know what I drink, Jake?” This is the first time we’ve hung out one on one.

  “I pay attention, Abby.” Jake looks me dead in the eyes. And the fucker winks at me, which causes me to blush fifty shades of red!

  “Fuck, why have you been paying attention to me, Jake?”

  He looks at me thoughtfully for a few minutes while I’m left in awkward silence.

  “I think you know why. I’ve been watching you a long time now, Abby. I’ve known you for five years now and I pay attention to things, more than you think.”

  I was only twenty-two years old when I started working at The Shelter. I am now twenty-nine. Jake is in his early thirties, I think? This night can go either one of two ways. One, I play into it and see what happens, possibly making the rest of my work life awkward, for God knows how long, or option two, leave. Leave right fuckin’ now. But, I think we both know I’m not going to because I’ve also had my eyes on Jake, it seems, for just as long as he’s been watching me. I’m only curious as to why now?

  Sami returns with our drinks, smiling sweetly at Jake while I roll my eyes, again. Fuckin’ blonde haired, blue eyed, big boobed girls think all guys want them. Well, my sweet Sami, this one wants me tonight. Jake confirms it when he smiles, thanks her, and locks those sweet, hazel green eyes on mine. Sami gets the hint and saunters away.

  “Cheers, Abby, to finally finding the right time.”

  I raise my glass and clink it with his. Sipping my sour goodness, I have no idea what the fuck he means. My lips always pucker on the first sip and he laughs at me.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Oh, Abby, I love your first sip face.”

  Blush overload, for fuck’s sakes! I know he sees it.

  “Yeah, well these fuckers are sour like nobody’s business. Wanna sip?”

  Jake looks at me with a smile on his face, reaches over and grabs my hand, and pulls the drink towards his mouth. Hell yeah! He sips my drink and I watch his face wince a bit and then he looks at me and smiles.

  “Let me take you home now, Abby.”

  Ummmmm, whoa! Am I ready for this? I’m so attracted to him and have been for quite some time. I want him to take me home so I down my drink.

  “I’m ready, Jake.”

  He throws some bills on the table and downs his drink. We leave the seedy bar in downtown Toronto and head to my place.

  Jake

  Abby, Abby, Abby. God, this woman is beautiful. It really was spur of the moment, my offer to drive her home. I was having a shit night to begin with, dealing with my ex-wife over our three year old daughter, Isabelle. Why does this woman want to make my life a living hell? Izzy means the world to me. I think it’s because of her that I feel so strongly for Abby now
more than I ever have before.

  I hate watching Abby being accosted by homeless crack addicts. I don’t like seeing it happen to any female staff, but Abby is special. She’s a five foot five, brown haired, hazel brown eyed beauty who doesn’t know how beautiful she is. What a sin. I want her so bad that the erection in my pants is making me walk a little funny.

  At the Jeep, I help her up, and of course, cop a feel – hey, her ass is fuckin’ edible in those jeans! I want to feel it and something tells me she doesn’t mind. Her place is only a few blocks away and used to be an old Victorian-style mansion that has since been converted into apartments. Thank God, she has her own parking space, even though she doesn’t have a car because now I don’t have to park in the alley.

  Her apartment is on the first floor. I don’t like that at all. At this point, I just take it all in and save it for another day because I’m not about to ruin anything that’s about to happen between me and this beauty.

  We get inside her apartment and it’s bigger than I thought it would be with its vaulted ceilings and two levels. On the first level is her living room, kitchen and dining room, which means her bedroom and bathroom are upstairs. This is one nice apartment. The paint and décor are neutral and her furniture is made up nicely of pieces from Ikea. I fuckin’ hate Ikea. Do you know how hard that shit is to put together? Makes me wonder, did she have help or did she do it herself? I spot a little pet bed on the floor near the couch, embellished with a pattern of cat faces all over it. There is only one kind of pussy that I’m down with, and that ain’t it!

  I walk over to her bookshelves and she has her books organized in the weirdest way I’ve ever seen books organized. Top shelf is for, ‘HOLY FUCK THAT WAS FUNNY!’ I look to see what makes her laugh and see a multitude of Tara Sivec books. Shelf two is labeled, ‘HOLY FUCK THAT MADE ME CRY.’ Shelf three reads, ‘HOLY FUCK THAT WAS JACKED UP AND I MAY NEED THERAPY.’ Shelf four displays, ‘HOLY FUCK THAT MADE ME HORNY.’