Obsession 2.5: Loving An Alpha Male

by S. K. Lessly

  “What did you expect me to do?” She yelled or better yet screeched her question. The volume of her voice was so loud I thought the speakers in my car would explode. “You were ready and willing to kill her in cold blood. Everyone jumped on Misty’s back for her behavior but what about yours? Did you even think about the consequences of your actions? Did you think about me, or your son, or your daughter? No. All you cared about was revenge, which is why I tried to find out as much information as I could on my own.”

  “Oh yeah? And tell me. How did that work out for you?”

  She fell silent and I answered my own question.

  “Oh wait, let me answer that. Someone wrapped a fucking chain around your neck and tried to kill you! I can’t believe how careless you were. He fucking strangled you! How could you be so fucking stupid? You talk about thinking… What did you do, turn off your brain? Ignore common sense? You put yourself in danger, our daughter in danger, how could you do that?” I was yelling at this point and I didn’t give two fucks. My blood pressure was at an all-time high. My body was shaking with so much rage I couldn’t think straight. I could barely see in front of me. I had to pull over on the side of the road; I couldn’t concentrate at all.

  Sweets had been quiet on the phone. Her breaths were coming through the speakers in quick pants and I knew I had upset her but dammit I couldn’t bring myself to care. She had no business going to Hell to see that piece of shit. She had no business impersonating an operative, and almost being killed. All for what? For nothing. Also, and most importantly, she had lied to me. I think that hurt the most. The fact that she didn’t trust me enough to come to me didn’t register. It was the fact that she lied.

  “You lied to me,” I said, my voice a bit calmer than before. The hurt starting to sink in.

  “I know,” she said simply.

  “Do you even see how you fucked up? Do you see what happens to you when you keep shit from me, or do shit behind my back? You always find yourself in a fucked up situation.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked me, her voice rising a bit in pitch but she stopped speaking abruptly then lowered her voice menacingly. “Are you saying—?”

  “Are you even remorseful?” I asked, speaking over her.

  She had paused before she said, in a deadpan voice that graded on my nerves, “No, not really. I mean, I’m sorry that you found out before I had a chance to tell you. However, I’m not sorry for not coming to you first. You have to understand, I did what I thought was right. I went to the right people to help me because I knew you wouldn’t. You can’t see past your revenge to see the bigger picture. If I had come to you with this, the first thing you would have done was kill Noah. You wouldn’t have taken time out to get the answers from him. You would have taken his withholding information from you as a betrayal and killed him. Instead, we got as much information from him that we could. And goodness, you wouldn’t have thought twice about hearing Emily out. I really think she can—”

  “That bitch is a lying psychopath.” I cut in, tired of hearing this shit. “And that piece of shit ex of yours… he’s fucking dead, do you hear me? I fucking killed him.” She gasped but I continued giving her everything. “He told me all about what he did to you then I had to see that shit for myself. Do you have any idea how I felt watching that son of a bitch try and kill you? Again? Oh, you best believe I made him pay for that shit and Emily will get hers too. Count on that. As for you, I am beyond fucking words. What you did? How you kept shit from me, the man you claim to love, who you say is your best friend, the love of your life. You sit on this phone and have the gall to say I deserved to not know because of my rage. That’s bullshit. All of this is bullshit.”

  This was the moment where I should have stopped and thought about my words, but I didn’t. I let my anger fuel me and I ignored the way she called my name, begged me to stop. I went on.

  “The blatant disregard for your life, for me, and… and our family hurts the most. You betrayed me without a pause. You went behind my back, kept shit from me and fucking lied. That shit is unforgivable.”

  “Josh…please,” she whispered hoarsely between her crying. “Can we just—”

  “Don’t,” I warned, my own voice low, deep and full of the venom I felt flowing all through my body. “I can’t listen to you speak another word. I’m done. I’m so fucking done. I am beyond fucking pissed and I know if you keep talking bullshit, I’m going to say something I won’t be able to take back.” I paused and heard her crying harder. I didn’t let it get to me. I took a deep breath and said before I hung up. “Don’t expect me home.”

  I heard her cry out my name but I hung up before the anguish in her got to me. After that, I drove to a local hotel, got shitfaced until I couldn’t stand, and spent a night away from my wife. At the time, it was the right thing to do. The way I felt after talking to her was toxic for the both of us. I needed the time away to wrap my head around this whole mess, around Emily being back and still breathing, the betrayal from my wife and my so-called partner as well as this crazy case. This shit was taking a toll and if I didn’t get it together, I was going to lose it.

  I woke this morning still pissed. I had gone into the office and tried to use work as a way to divert the simmering rage just waiting to boil over again. I spent the entire day combing over case notes, shit on Perchenko, Simon, Emily, Baxter, and Davies. I looked for patterns, connections, any and everything and found nothing of use. We knew now Simon was related to Perchenko however, it told us nothing.

  After hours of hiding and being a coward, I called it a day. It was time I went home to my family. I needed to see and touch my wife.

  I had checked in with the security detail throughout the day and I got an all clear back. My family was safe and at home. So far, we hadn’t heard shit from Emily, the CIA, nothing. That didn’t sit well with me. Something wasn’t right I could feel it. Fuck, this whole case was fucked up. However, I had a feeling everything was going to come to a head soon. I just hoped we all would survive it unscathed.

  On the drive home, shit had started to really sink in. I played back the conversation Sweets and I had, as well as my words, and I cringed. She and I had arguments in the past, but it was never this bad. I had never not come home because I was angry. We made it a point to never go to bed angry with each other. It was another reason why I felt like shit. To say I overacted would be an understatement. I completely fucked up. There were so many other ways I could have handled things. She needed me to listen to her, not accuse and belittle her.

  For one, she was right about Em… err…Emily. The need for revenge did trump all else. There were times I would dream about plunging my knife deep in the cold bitch’s heart and watch as she bled out. Hell, I used to get a hard on just thinking of all the ways I could kill her. Was I blinded by my rage, my need for revenge? Possibly. Did the need to kill her overshadow my family? I didn’t think so. But hell, I was the one deep in it. It’s just like how an addict would respond if you told them they had a problem. They couldn’t see how much drugs affected them as well as others could see it.

  However, the lying and keeping something this important from me, cut deep. My wife should have been able to come to me, despite my temper. Yes, I knew I had one. Yes, I knew it could be volatile at times, but fuck; I’d like to believe I would have been rational about it.

  To hear she didn’t feel the same had me pausing. It was the reason why I was still sitting in the car up the street from our house. I felt like shit for yelling at her, calling her stupid. Also, I had implied that I thought her getting hurt and kidnapped was her fault. It wasn’t true. Could she have made better decisions when it came to her safety? Yes. However, circumstances shouldn’t have resulted with her life hanging by the balance.

  My neighborhood was quiet. I rolled down my window and listened to the waves crashing against the surf in the distance. No other sound hit my ears. I took a deep breath and started to turn the car on and continue to my driveway, w
hen I stopped. I noticed something that I hadn’t realized before. It was entirely too quiet, which had the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. My house was completely dark. Was she even home? I couldn’t see her car and I didn’t see the signs of her security detail, but that could mean anything. What really had my chest tightening was the blackness surrounding my home. It felt ominous in a way. I began to get this feeling that something wasn’t right. The darkness surrounding the house meant more than her just having the lights out.

  I reached for my phone and called her. She picked up on the fourth ring, sounding a bit out of breath.

  “Hey.”

  She paused for a second and gave me a quiet, “Hey.”

  “Where are you? Are you home?”

  She sucked her teeth.

  “Seriously?” she asked in a bitter tone.

  I ignored that and said, “Yeah, seriously. I don’t see your car in the driveway. Did you drive back to the city?”

  “Un-freaking-believable.”

  “What?”

  “You.”

  “What about me?”

  “Quit playing games. You know I’m home.”

  “And how do I know that?” I asked her getting annoyed all over again.

  She sent an exaggerated sigh through the speakers of my car. “Aghhh, really, Josh? Isn’t that you downstairs bumping around in the night? You think you can just come home after spending the night at some hotel and…”

  I sat up when she mentioned me being downstairs. I wasn’t in the fucking house. I got out of the car and really stared at my house.

  “Sweets, what do you mean I’m downstairs?”

  “Oh, don’t try and scare me. I saw you on the security camera. You were standing at the front door for a while before you came inside. You were dressed in all black and… Wait. Why are—”

  “Sweets, listen to me,” I demanded, my voice hard. I started jogging toward my house.

  “Oh, God, that wasn’t you, was it?”

  “Sweets, I need you to…” Before I could finish my sentence, my house, the one where my wife and children were, the loves of my life, disintegrated right before my eyes.

  Blinding light from the explosion consumed my vision. Air was forcefully yanked out of my lungs and heat singed my throat as a blast wave lifted me and carried me at least twenty feet in the air.

  Finally, after what felt like forever, I landed hard on my back, shoulders and then head. Blackness swam in my vision before I realized they were closed. I kept them closed. They hurt like a son of a bitch. Fuck, so did everything else. I thought my body hurt before, but being thrown like a rag doll hurt worse.

  A groan escaped my battered body as I willed my head to stop pounding. I tried to move and felt excruciating pain on my left side. I prodded the area and felt wetness on my fingers and shirt.

  I couldn’t even lift my head to inspect my injury. Hell, I could barely breathe. My lungs hurt. My throat was on fire, but that didn’t stop me from screaming her name.

  “Kenya!”

  My house roared back at me as if saying, “Fuck you, motherfucker! She belongs to me now!”

  Fuck… no!

  I struggled to my hands and knees, ignoring the pain in my side, which was easy enough because my head was on fire. My ears were ringing from the blast and I couldn’t see shit. I crawled anyway, over scalding debris in the street. Shards of glass and chips of wood perforated my hands and knees as I slowly moved. I ignored the pain. I needed to get to the house. I needed to save them.

  “Kenya! Joshua!” I called out, desperately trying to be heard over the screaming in my ears.

  My entire body was screaming at me. The world was spinning out of control. I stumbled over something and fell to my stomach. I growled and fought to stay conscious. I couldn’t pass out. I needed to get to my family. They couldn’t be gone. They just couldn’t be.

  “Sweets!” I yelled and then coughed. I couldn’t hear a fucking thing but ringing and the roar of the fire. I got to my hands and knees again, determined to get to my wife when I fell again. This time, I realized I hadn’t fallen by accident. Someone had pushed me down. My thoughts were confirmed when I felt a heavy boot at my back. I was held in place.

  I struggled to get up, but my strength was failing me. I lifted my head and finally opened my eyes and took in the debris that was my house. There was barely anything left. I searched the horizon, looking for any sign of her, but I didn’t catch any movement.

  “Isn’t that beautiful? There’s no way someone could’ve survived that and he’s still trying to get to her,” said a distinct and familiar female voice behind me that had my blood running cold.

  Emily.

  “You fucking bitch! You’re dead! Do you hear me? You’re all fucking dead! Sweets!”

  I struggled to break free to get to my family, but the weight on me only increased until l could barely breathe.

  Someone sucked their teeth before speaking. “So honorable yet foolish. It’s your downfall, my precious Josh.”

  I ignored her and watched my house burn, my heart burning with it.

  Another explosion rocked the night and we all flinched, ending all hope I had of my family surviving.

  “Damn that was very impressive, Serg. How much C4 did you use?” she asked.

  I heard a deep gruff voice from behind me grunt.

  “All of it,” replied a Russian voice.

  Her laugh rang through the night, making my stomach wretch.

  “My, my, I love it when you’re thorough. Get him into the van.”

  I started to fight when rough hands grabbed me underneath my arms. A needle was then plunged into my neck and the fight disappeared immediately.

  Emily Parsons squatted down in front of me and ran her hands through my hair. She gripped my hair tight and pulled my head back roughly so I could look into her eyes. Pain filled my vision, but I managed to keep my eyes on her. She grinned down at me.

  “You and I are going to have so much fun together. Perchenko wants you, but he didn’t say what condition he wanted you in. I figured as long as you’re still breathing, he wouldn’t care about anything else.” She touched my face. “Don’t worry. You’ll see your precious Sweets in hell very soon.”

  I tried to speak, wanted to spit in her face, but darkness finally took me under.

  Emily

  Emily stood and stared down at the unconscious body of her ex-lover. She had been waiting forever for this day and finally, it was here. She would definitely play with him first before turning him over. But first, she still had work to do.

  She glanced at the burning shell of a house and smiled. She couldn’t have planned the outcome better. It was brilliant to watch the house go up in a fire of glory. To see Josh’s face and hear his agony was music to her ears.

  However, this was just the beginning. There was more to come and she couldn’t wait.

  She then brought her attention to the seven men she had with her, including her second in command, Drago Yenin. Time was running out for them here. The neighbors would be coming out soon to check out the scene and they needed to be gone when that happened.

  “Serge, put him in the van so we can get out of here. We need to be seen putting him inside the van, but not captured. We don’t want to make it too easy for her to find us. Duncan, Stoffman, and Benji, you three stay behind just in case someone comes to investigate the missing security team. Kill them if they do. If she comes here, call me. That bitch is mine, understand?” The three nodded, turned and headed for the beach to sit and wait.

  She focused on Drago.

  “It’s time for phase two. Make the call. I want clean up to commence right now. Make it messy and the message clear. No one fucks with me.”

  “Understood,” Drago replied and pulled out his phone.

  Emily nodded at the remaining men and watched as they lifted Josh into the waiting black panel van a few feet down the street. She took in the blaze that seemed to be going out and smiled. />
  The night was just beginning. Before it was over, they all would be dead.

  Kenya

  I couldn’t catch my breath. Watching my husband, from the safety of our panic room, being placed inside an unmarked van was the scariest thing I had ever witnessed. It was far worse than watching the men who had kidnapped me enter into my cell to assault me. The beating I had suffered was nothing compared to the pain I felt in my chest right now. The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed me. I frantically searched in the nearby drawer for an inhaler, found it, and took a few puffs, trying to get myself together.

  I had decided to head to the safe room about an hour after Josh hung up on me with the intention of tracking him. It was for peace of mind really. Okay, no it wasn’t for peace of mind. I had a hair-brain thought that he and Emily were at some hotel getting it on. I knew it wasn’t a rational thought. I also knew Josh would never cheat on me, especially not with Emily, but I couldn’t get my irrational brain to think rationally.

  Anyway, I started to look for my laptop and at first, I couldn’t find it. I started to panic that I had left it in the office when I remembered the last place I’d used it. The panic room. I had made my way there with the intent of only grabbing it and heading back to the house. I changed my mind when I thought about the last comment he made. “Don’t expect me home…”

  He and I had decided a long time ago never to go to sleep mad at each other. We would talk through our issues as best we could or at least sleep together. Most of the time we’d wake up entangled with each other no matter how pissed we were. It was as if our subconscious gravitated to the other.

  With that being said, for him to get a hotel room instead of coming home to me hurt. I refused to be home waiting for him like a dutiful wife. I decided to camp out in the panic room. Then when he came home and saw that Junior and I were gone, he’d think twice about leaving us again.

  Our panic room, safe room, storm room, whatever, was actually located underground beside our house. There was a hidden staircase that stretched from the second floor, inside our bedroom closet, down to the basement. Once you climbed down the staircase, you came to a door with fingerprint and retinal scan. From there, the door opened to a long hall that emptied into a decent size room with a couch that pulled out to a bed, a full bathroom, a medium-sized refrigerator, a small deep freezer, and shelves filled with food that could last at least a month if you rationed.