Obsessed

by Terry Towers

  “She ran with the kid?” Boris asked from the open doorway.

  “You fucking tell me, I’ve been cuffed to a radiator all night. She’s gone isn’t she?” When Boris didn’t answer I looked away from my reflection to glare at him. “Isn’t she?”

  “There’s no sign of her or the kid, Sir.”

  Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I turned away in disgust. She’d scarred me, turned me into a deformed freak. “I want you to find her.”

  “And then what?”

  Despite the rage within me, I smiled. “Just get her back. Alive. I want the pleasure of watching her die.” There were more where she came from; beautiful women were nothing more than accessories and came cheaply enough.

  Boris nodded and turned to leave.

  “Wait.”

  He halted in his tracks and slowly spun to face me again. “Yes, Sir.”

  “And let’s keep this to ourselves for now. Not even a word to my brother.”

  He nodded. “Of course, Sir.”

  Anastasia

  “Їж, любий.” I tapped the edge of Ura’s paper plate with my index finger. I knew I shouldn’t be using our mother tongue with him; we needed to fit in, not stand out, and re-teaching him Ukrainian after the past two years of weaning him out of it would do no good. Bangor was small compared to the cities I’d visited and lived in. It was extremely easy to stand out and speaking a foreign language like Ukrainian put us on the fast track to questions about our background.

  For the past month we’d been living in a dingy, worn motel room, wasting $30 a night on a dump in a rundown part of town. That being said, in comparison to the city I’d been living in before coming to America, a rundown part of Bangor was top grade. $30 wasn’t much, but it was close to $1000 a month; a decent two-bedroom apartment here ran roughly $700 a month. We desperately needed an apartment, but every time I looked at a place they wanted identification. Money alone wasn’t cutting it. The only place that was willing to overlook the fact we were without ID, the man made it clear he would want something more intimate from me than money – something I was no longer willing to sell, not again, not ever. We weren’t that desperate and there were still other options, like the motel room. I wanted nothing more than a fresh start for us, and to never again look back. I just wanted to forget.

  “I don’t like this place, Mamo.” Ura frowned at French fries and fried clams courtesy of the seafood restaurant across the street. “I miss home.”

  I grimaced. The first few days were fun for him, like an adventure, but living in one room was wearing on him. He’d become accustomed to living a life of excess, with an abundance of toys and so many activities to choose from that he couldn’t get bored in a thousand years. A tiny television with a half a dozen channels and his backpack of toys just weren’t cutting it anymore.

  “I wanna swim. I miss Kono.” He frowned, tears welling up in his eyes.

  “We can go to the public pool. And we can get you a new pet.”

  “Like Kono?”

  “любий, Kono, was a Rottweiler, we can’t have a dog that big in an apartment. But maybe a cat, or some fish?” Crouching down so I was at eye level with him, I caught his gaze, staring into deep blue eyes that were identical to mine. “It won’t be much longer.” I forced a smile onto my lips. “We meet with someone tonight about a place.”

  He stabbed a clam with his fork. “It’s no fun no more.”

  “I know.” Slipping my hand to the back of his head, I pulled him forward and pressed my lips to his forehead. “It’ll get better honey, it’ll get better.”

  ~*~*~*~

  Jaxson

  “Mr. Langley, there’s a young woman and a child here to see you.”

  Rolling my eyes I looked up from the stack of bills I was sorting through and at my newest shooter girl, Tammy LeFleur. She was a horrible shooter girl. I’d lost count of the amount of trays of drinks she’d spilt and glasses she’d broken. At least she was polite. “How many times do I have to tell you, call me Jaxson. Please.”

  “Sorry… Jaxson. She said she was here about the apartment.”

  I groaned inwardly. I’d completely forgotten about the appointment to show the vacant apartment above the bar with the young woman who’d called earlier. Friday nights were busy at the bar and I was worse than swamped tonight; had it not been for the fact she sounded so fucking sexy on the phone I would have told her to wait until the next week. Sadly, I’m a pushover for a beautiful woman – hell, any woman really. My cock had a tendency to rule me and cause me to make decisions against my better judgment – this was no exception.

  “Tell her I’ll be right out.”

  “Okay Si– Jaxson.” Tammy fled my office, pulling the door closed firmly behind her.

  Taking a moment to put the bills in order, I set them to the side to come back to later and got up from behind my desk. As I opened the door of my office, the thump of the music grew louder. Living above a bar wouldn’t be ideal for a woman with a child; she hadn’t mentioned a kid when she’d called. Why she’d even want to live above a bar was beyond me, but as long as her references checked out, she had the money for the rent and deposit, and she seemed sensible enough, who was I to judge the kind of parent she was?

  As I rounded the corner and entered the bar area, I didn’t have to search to spot her, my eyes were immediately drawn to her. Among a group of locals, scantily dressed and grinding against each other, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Approaching her, I was struck by her beauty, high cheekbones, long, golden hair, piercing blue eyes and slender build impeccably dressed in a black pants suit.

  Feeling my eyes on her, Anastasia turned her head and her gaze caught mine. As her lips spread into a wide smile, I swear to God my cock jerked alive with such enthusiasm it left me breathless. I’m a male slut, I admit it and am hardly ashamed of the fact, but not so much that I get hard from a simple smile. This was a first.

  “Jaxson?” She extended her hand to me.

  “Yes, and you’re Anastasia.” I accepted her hand and gave it a shake, holding onto her hand a moment longer than necessary, but loving the feel of her soft skin against mine and reluctant to break the connection. Releasing her hand, I lowered my gaze to the little blonde boy, a replica of his mother. “And you are?” I extended my hand to him.

  “Ura,” he supplied, taking my hand and giving it a firm shake, making me smile.

  Ura… I tossed the name around my head a moment. Eastern European I suspected, but where exactly, I didn’t have a fucking clue.

  “So you’re here to see the apartment?” I asked, knowing the answer. Way to state the obvious, a voice at the back of my mind taunted.

  She nodded, continuing to smile up at me.

  “Then follow me, I’ll take you up from the inside, but there’s also an outside entrance.”

  She took the little boy’s hand and they followed me through the bar, down the hallway, passing by my office and to a door leading to the upper levels, which housed four apartments, one being mine.

  “So, it’s a two-bedroom. Nothing fancy.” We ascended the stairs to the second floor.

  “That’s fine.”

  Stopping in front of the apartment door, I turned back to her and gave her another quick scan. I didn’t know much about fashion, but my mother was a luxury handbag collector – collecting extravagant bags she couldn’t really afford was somewhat of an addiction for her – so I noticed the handbag on her arm and immediately knew it was Chanel, costing at least five grand. Something wasn’t right about this picture. Someone with money for handbags worth five grand didn’t rent apartments above bars.

  “Is there something wrong?”

  “No, of course not.” Embarrassed she’d caught me staring, I gave my head a quick shake and quickly unlocked the door and stepped aside, allowing Anastasia and Ura to enter before me. The light from the hallway allowed enough light in the living room for me to find the light switch and flick it on.

  “So i
t’s two bedrooms?” Her eyes scanned the empty living room, taking in everything from the hardwood floors to the large window overlooking the street. She released the child’s hand and Ura began doing his own exploration, running from room to room.

  “Yeah and –” I jerked my thumb toward the door, “– and I live right across the hall so if there’s any issues, you just have to knock.”

  She graced me with a wide smile and placed a hand on my forearm. Warmth radiated up and down my arm from her touch. “It’s good to know I’d have a landlord who is easy to find.”

  “Of course.”

  I trailed behind her as she examined the bedrooms, which were a decent size, one significantly larger than the other and then carried on to the kitchen and bathroom. By the time we reached the living room again, to my surprise, she was smiling wide and nodding.

  “I’ll take it. I can give you the deposit, first and last month’s rent right now if you like.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, awaiting my response.

  “Well, I need to ask you a few questions.”

  She hesitated, her eyes becoming uncertain, but nodded. “Sure.”

  “Are you employed?”

  She looked down at her feet a moment then back up at me. “I’m in between jobs currently.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m thinking about going back to school in the fall,” she quickly added.

  Our eyes locked and I knew instantly she was lying. “All right, I’m going to need to see some identification so I can do a background check. I’m aware this isn’t exactly lavish accommodations, but I like to ensure my tenants are…”

  She cringed and stepped up to me, placing her hand on my forearm again. I looked down at her hand and my eyes focused on her ring finger; there was a faint outline of pale skin in contrast to the brilliant tan of the rest of her hand where a band had once been. Recently divorced? Still married? I didn’t know, couldn’t even wager a guess. Lifting my eyes to hers, our gazes locked.

  “I’ll be honest, I don’t have any ID,” she confessed.

  “Mamo. I wanna stay. Let’s stay.” Ura came back into the living room to stand beside his mother and looked up at me. “Can we stay? No one lets us stay. I hate the motel.”

  “Ura! Go look some more. Let us talk.” While I’d been hearing a slight accent her agitated state amplified the accent she had been trying to hide.

  He huffed, but did as told disappearing into the kitchen again.

  “What does he mean?”

  “We’ve looked at a lot of places, but no one will rent to us because of no ID. We’ve been living out of a motel for a month. Ura needs a home.”

  I frowned. Who doesn’t have ID? Especially someone who has money and seemed to have a head on her shoulders. There was no reasonable explanation for it. No legal explanation for it. As I looked into her eyes I saw the plea in them, begging me to let her stay. My cock joined in the begging, wanting her to stay as much as she wanted to. But my head was telling me to send this beautiful mother-child bundle of trouble away if I knew what was good for me. My gut told me there was some bad shit following behind them and my instincts on these types of things were never wrong.

  I glanced over at the kitchen. She could be anyone. A murderer, a thief… What if she and the kid took off and there was a father with an Amber Alert out? I could be harbouring a criminal if I let them stay. Of course that would be easy enough to find out, I could just go online and search once I got back to my office.

  “Why don’t you have ID? Can you give me a driver’s licence number, or, I can take you to the DMV if you’ve misplaced it.”

  “It’s complicated and I can’t talk about it. I never did anything wrong. Please believe me.”

  “Well, if you didn’t do anything wrong then why can’t you supply the information any reputable landlord would require? Even if you know the numbers off of the top of your head.” I wasn’t trying to be combative, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around the idea. As much as I wanted to let my dick make the decisions, I had to make responsible decisions, this was my business and my livelihood.

  “Please. I can pay. We won’t be a bother.”

  “That’s not the issue Anastasia…”

  With her shoulders slumping in defeat, she tore her gaze from mine and sniffed, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “Юра, ходімо. Ми йдемо. Thanks for showing us the place.”

  The little boy appeared from the kitchen and rushed to his mother’s side, taking her hand. “I don’t wanna go,” he whined. The look he gave her and then me tore at my heart. Children were another weakness of mine, in an entirely different and dangerous way than women, and I stayed far from them. Loving a child could break your heart worse than any woman could dream of doing, without even trying.

  “Ura.” Her tone was no-nonsense. She took his hand and gave it a tug, brushing past me, making a hasty escape. She didn’t even give me a second glance.

  Well, fuck, fuck, fuck. I thrust a hand into my short dark hair in agitation. It wouldn’t hurt to let her stay for a little while, would it? No matter what the reason for them being there, the kid couldn’t continue living out of a motel. I could do a little investigating and see what I could find out about her and the kid, if the name she gave me was real then I should be able to dig up something. If something came up in my searches then I’d notify the police and they could handle things from there and I could continue on with my life knowing I’d done my civic duty.

  “Anastasia, wait!” She was already out of the apartment and halfway down the hallway before I caught up with her. I’d never seen a woman able to move so quickly in obscenely high heels in my life. She had the grace of a prima ballerina; it just added to the mystery and my attraction to her.

  Sucker… Chump… Gullible… A voice in the back of my head screamed at me. I ignored it.

  She froze in her tracks, squaring her shoulders as she turned back to me. “Yes?”

  “Just tell me one thing. Trust me enough to give me this little bit of information and I’ll trust you to move in.”

  She eyed me with suspicion. I suspected that I wasn’t the first to offer her a deal, although the other deals she may have been offered I doubted were genuine requests for information.

  “One thing and I think we can work something out and get you moved in,” I insisted. “Your son’s name; what nationality is it?”

  “We’re American,” she growled and was about to turn away from me, but I caught her upper arm in my hand, stopping her.

  “Ura isn’t an American name and I can hear your accent, it’s thin, but I can hear it. Give me at least that much. I’m willing to go out on a limb for you, more than I suspect others have done for you, so meet me a little ways here.”

  She took a deep breath in, her chest featuring smallish, pert breasts lifting and slowly lowering. She eyed me with intense scrutiny as if deciding whether the apartment was worth giving up something about herself. “We’re originally from Ukraine. But, we’re American citizens now. We’re not illegal immigrants if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “That wasn’t what I was getting at.” Although, admittedly, that had been one option that had been running through my mind. Even though my cock and brain were battling it out, it was my sense of compassion that ultimately won out. “When do you want to move in?”

  The tension in her body drained and she hit me with a smile so wide and genuine, so filled with gratitude that I swear my heart skipped a beat. “Дякую.”

  I was shocked when she released Ura’s hand and gave me a fierce hug. The smell of her sweet, floral perfume drifted to my nose and my cock jerked in my jeans. Embarrassed she may feel my throbbing – and aching – erection, I released her hastily, taking a step back.

  “We can move tomorrow, yes?”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

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