Obsession (Seven Deadly Sins Book 2)

by Shantel Tessier

  He looks over at me with narrowed eyes. “Be that as it may,” he says slowly. “Will you please be nice to her?”

  I go to open my mouth, but we both look up when we see Taylor approaching us. I’m not one to apologize, so I say, “I shouldn’t have said anything.” She just graduated college earlier this evening and then just got engaged only minutes ago. She is supposed to be celebrating, not having to put up with me. I may be a dick, but I care very dearly for Taylor. If not for her, my best friend would still be only half of a man.

  She gives me a soft smile. The one that tells me she’s not mad at me. “You’re fine, Brecken. Truly. That wasn’t very nice of her to ask if I was pregnant to begin with. Or then to ask again after Case proposed.” She frowns. “She can be a bitch. I don’t know why I invited her.”

  “Why did you invite her?” Case asks confused.

  Chicks. They are all a little fucked up in the head. “Because she saw Brecken at the graduation earlier today and wanted to meet him.”

  “You invited her for Brecken?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. “What have I told you …?”

  “Excuse me?” I interrupt him. “You two have been talking about me?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

  “Give us a minute, babe,” he says to her, and with a glance over at me, she turns and walks back down the hallway and into the room.

  “What exactly have you been telling her?” I cross my arms over my chest. Maybe she does know more about me than I thought.

  “Nothing about you. We just talk about you.”

  “What’s the difference?” I ask.

  He runs a hand through his dark hair. I shuffle from foot to foot when I see that he’s nervous about something. Case never gets nervous. “Taylor worries about you.” I laugh even though she just told me the exact same thing. “She really worries about you, Brecken,” he says with all seriousness.

  My laughter dies, and I uncross my arms. “Look, man. Tell your girl to quit worrying about me. I’m fine.”

  “Where did you go earlier?” He changes the subject.

  I look at him with narrowed eyes. “What does that have to do with …?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  Absolutely not. He cannot know that I’m sleeping with Monica. Not yet, anyway. “That is none of your business, Case.”

  “Why are you getting so defensive?”

  “Why are you being so nosy?” I demand.

  He lets out a frustrated sigh. “Things haven’t been the same since Rachel.” I hate the way he says her name, as if she meant something to me. As if I lost my whole world when I looked into her dark brown eyes and shot her. I did it because I was trying to save his world. “You’re sneaking around. You never seem to be around.”

  “I’m here,” I say with a growl pointing down at the floor. “I’m here working this club. Our club. Or did you forget that we both own it?” I demand.

  “Taylor needed me,” he says defensively.

  “And I understand that. Now, you need to understand that everything I do is not your business.” And with that, I turn and walk off down the hall. I pass the room that our friends are partying in and continue into the packed club. I have work to do. I have a club to run. Because this is the only thing that I can count on to always be here for me. She’ll never let me down.

  SKYE

  “Hello?” I growl, slamming my hand down on the counter. The man behind the glass looks up at me with hard eyes then down at my hand. I tap my black fingernails on the countertop just to annoy him.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks slowly as if he already knows he can’t.

  I look over his dark blue uniform, and my eyes get caught on the gun that hangs on his hip. Along with a pair of handcuffs. I shiver in fear from the thought of him using them on me. Of being restrained.

  You are here for help, not because you are in trouble, Skye.

  “Did you want something or not?” he demands as he crosses his arms over his chest. I’m surprised they even reach; he’s so big. He looks like the typical cop who lives off donuts and coffee. Large belly, plump face. His white beard helps hide his double chin, and it has some glaze leftover from his breakfast.

  My eyes narrow on him as I straighten my back. “I do. I need to file a missing person report,” I say as I start to dig into my five-dollar purse.

  “How long?” he asks, sounding bored.

  I place one of the only pictures I have of her on the counter and slide it under the glass. It’s of me and her last month out for a friend’s birthday from the diner. “How long what?” I question.

  “How long has the person been missing?” he asks not even bothering to look down at the picture.

  “I don’t know,” I say in all honesty. “Like eighteen hours. She never came home last night.” This morning, I didn’t think twice about it really. I went to work at the diner today and had to work a double. I ended up getting off earlier than scheduled, but it was still dark by the time I got home. I started blowing her phone up, getting concerned, and it went straight to voicemail. I started to panic and came straight up here, even though my mind was telling me not to. I don’t do well in police stations.

  He uncrosses his arms with a sigh and pushes the picture back to me. He still hasn’t looked at it. “I can’t help you. A person must be missing for at least twenty-four hours in order to be considered missing.”

  “You’re joking, right?” I snap as I feel my heart beat faster. “She never just disappears. I’m telling you something has happened.” He goes to speak, but I cut him off. “She went out last night …” I pull my cell out of my back pocket and pull up her last message to me. “Made it to the club.” I look back up at him as I place my phone in my back pocket. “She went to Seven Deadly Sins last night,” I say in a rush. “I’ve been there,” I add when he just stares at me. “That’s not the best part of town. Nor does it have the best reputation. Something happened to her.” By now, my hands are fisted on the counter as my anger continues to rise.

  “Be that as it may, ma’am, I see this every day. You’re not the first to tell me that she isn’t like the kind not to come home. Maybe she is still out partying,” he offers.

  I look up at the clock on the wall behind him. “It’s nine thirty at night,” I say through gritted teeth. She never stays out this long. People don’t understand when I say we are all each other has. She would never leave me worrying about her. Even if she had to call me from someone else’s phone, she would do that.

  He shrugs. “You said she went out. Maybe she went home with a man …”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I shout, and the entire Chicago police station quiets to turn and face me. “Are you trying to insinuate that my best friend went home with some random guy, stayed up all night having sex, and is still sleeping it off?” I’m seeing red. How dare he judge her like that? He should be trying to help me find her, not make accusations about someone he doesn’t even know.

  His eyes narrow on me, and he puffs his chest as he places his hands on his police belt, trying to intimidate me. “That is what you suggested, ma’am. Not me.”

  “Why you …”

  “Is there a problem here?”

  I spin around to see a much nicer, but somehow scarier looking man, wearing a solid white fitted t-shirt and dark denim jeans. His eyes are a pretty shade of blue that reminds me of the ocean. A chiseled jaw that could cut glass and short dark brown hair. Buzz cut. He looks military. Someone who makes their problems go away.

  “Yes, there is,” I say, lifting my chin. “I’m trying to file a missing person report, and this idiot is telling me that I can’t because it hasn’t been long enough. According to him, she preferred to go home with some random man to be fucked instead of coming home last night,” I say rather loudly.

  His blue eyes don’t waver with my use of language. Instead, he looks down at my hand that now holds the picture of Tiffany. “May I?” He reaches his hand out.

  I reach
out to him and hand him the picture. I watch him closely as he scans the picture. He looks up to me through his lashes and speaks. “Follow me.”

  He turns around giving me his back, and I follow him. “Thanks for nothing,” I call out over my shoulder to the cop who watches us walk away with narrowed eyes. I wanna lift my hand and flip him off but refrain.

  The new guy, for all I know, is some guy just fucking with me. He sure doesn’t look like any cop I’ve ever seen before. He leads me out of the main center of the station and down a long hallway. Officers pass us and look down at me as if they’re confused to see me back here. My concern starts to rise as we come to a door at the end of the hallway.

  “What are we doing?” I ask looking around the now quiet hallway. “I need to file a report,” I remind him. I’m scared to death about Tiffany. I just know that something is wrong. She would never pull something like this.

  He twists the doorknob, pushing the door open, and then places a gentle hand on my back. “Go ahead,” he says as I just stand there.

  I swallow nervously but walk in to find a metal table seated in the middle of a room. A chair sits on either side of the table facing one another. The walls are all white, and it smells of cleaner.

  “What …?” I spin around just as he closes the door. I stand in the room now alone and tired. I fall down into one of the seats and place my purse on the table. Something is wrong. I can feel it deep down in my bones. I should have gone out with her last night. I should have never let her go alone.

  The door opens back up, and the same man walks in. This time, he has a notebook in his hand. He sits across from me and opens it up.

  “Miss …?”

  “Skye. Please call me Skye.”

  He nods his head. “Skye, I’m Officer Waters. But please, call me Jet.” He speaks. “Tell me what you know, Skye.”

  I tell him what time she left last night and where she was headed. And that she was going with a guy we work with by the name of Cliff. I informed him that I’ve been blowing up Cliff’s phone this evening as well and that he hasn’t been answering either. He writes it all down, and then closes his notebook. “That’s it?” I ask.

  “We have several factors to go over.” He crosses his arms on the table. “Had she been drinking?”

  “I don’t know … She hadn’t when she left the house. But she went out to drink, so probably,” I say honestly. “What does that have to do with it?” I ask, and he ignores it.

  “Had she done any drugs?”

  Defense. If you’re ever asked something that you don’t want to answer, play defense. “What kind of questions are these?” I demand. “My friend is missing.”

  “I know, ma’am, but we have to know to our best abilities where to look. Does she have a boyfriend?”

  I shake my head.

  “Just how close are you and Tiffany?” he asks. His blue eyes watch me. They watch my eyes, my mouth, and my body language. This man doesn’t seem like a real cop. It’s as if he’s looking for something to be off.

  “Very.” I know things about her that I’ll never reveal to you. “She is my best friend. We also live together,” I add.

  He opens up his little notebook and writes a few more things down before looking back up at me. “Is it okay if I keep the picture that you brought in with you?”

  I nod my head. “I have a couple more. Do you need them as well?” I ask quickly.

  “The one will be enough. Thanks.”

  I hang my head and try to swallow the knot that forms in my throat. When I look back up at him, those bright blue eyes watch me intently. “I know I might sound crazy”—I swallow—“but I have this feeling.” A tear slides down my face. “Something has happened to her. I need to find her. I need you to help me find her. Please,” I beg. I just want to scream; I feel so helpless. So lost.

  “I’m going to do my best, ma’am,” he says, and I reach up to wipe the tears from my face. “Technically, we have to wait twenty-four hours before we can issue a missing person report. But I will make a few phone calls and will contact you when I know a little more.”

  I want to nail myself to this chair. I want to refuse to leave this police station until I know they are doing all they can to find her, but I don’t. I’ll go to the one other place that I can think of to help me. Sitting here or at home isn’t gonna do me any good.

  CASE

  I open the back door of Seven Deadly Sins and realize how much I miss this place. The noise, the people, and most of all, just the feeling of being home. Because that’s exactly what this was to me for the nine months I lived in the upstairs apartment. That was until Taylor came into my life. Then, somehow, she became my home. And when she got shot, things changed. I left it, dropping everything to take care of Taylor, and left my best friend behind to take over our club that we built together.

  I make my way through the crowds of people on this busy Saturday night and up the stairs. I come to the end of the hallway and knock on the closed door. “Come in,” I hear Brecken call from the other side.

  I open the door, and he looks up at me from behind the desk. “Since when did you start knocking?” he asks in that tone that tells me he’s in a pissy mood. That’s just the Brecken I know.

  I walk in and shut the door behind me. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t busy.” And by busy, I mean fucking.

  “I am busy,” is his tight reply.

  I let out a long breath as I make my way to one of the chairs in front of his desk. I wanna tell Brecken that I’m sorry for all that I did. Our friendship hasn’t been the same since I allowed my love life to come before our club and other finances. But Brecken isn’t the kind of guy you apologize to. I clear my throat. “Well, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  He finishes typing out a few things on the keyboard before leaning back in his seat and looking at me. “Is that why you are here and not at home with Taylor? Thought you guys were taking the weekend off?”

  I nod. “I just came up here to talk to you,” I say simply.

  He crosses his arms over his chest. His dark eyes narrow, and his lips thin. His cheekbones sharp and jaw tight. I hate to see my friend like this. I never really saw how much hatred we both had until now. Now that I have Taylor, I wish now more than ever that he hadn’t lost the love of his life. “About?” he growls.

  I run my hands nervously over my head. I hate that I have a bad feeling about this. I should be excited to tell my friend the good news; instead, I’m apprehensive. I hate that I’m happy, and he is still this little lost puppy. He shifts impatiently in his seat, and I blurt out, “Taylor and I decided on a wedding date.”

  His facial expression doesn’t change. “That was fast,” he replies flatly.

  “Tell me about it,” I joke with a chuckle. I only proposed to her last night, and here I am with a date already. He just stares at me, so I continue. “We’re getting married next weekend.”

  His dark brown eyes widen in surprise, and his mouth parts as if to question it, but he shuts it quickly. “I know it’s fast. But after the year that we have had …” I shrug. “Taylor doesn’t want to wait. I don’t want to wait,” I add. After we had closed down Seven Deadly Sins last night, we went back home, and while we were lying in bed after making love, I asked her when she wanted to get married. She said as soon as possible. And I couldn’t help but agree with her.

  He nods. “I understand.”

  “Good,” I say rubbing my hands together. “’Cause I have another question for you.”

  I go to open my mouth to speak, but he uncrosses his arms and raises his right hand. “No need to ask,” he says, and I smile. “I told you that I would take over the club while you took care of things. I meant that. I’m good here.”

  The smile drops off my face at his words. “What?” I ask confused.

  He sighs as if he doesn’t want to repeat himself. “When we opened this club, I told you that I didn’t wanna run it.” He spreads his hands over his desk. Paper
s cover it to the point you can’t even see the black wood. “I told you I would work the front door and be security. But for the last eight months, I have been the one handling everything while you take care of Taylor. Now, you’re getting married. I’m guessing you’ll go away on a honeymoon.” He shrugs carelessly. “So I’ll stay here and hold down the club,” he finishes, and I stare at him somewhat mad and sad by the direction his mind went. That he thought I had come into the club just to ask him to continue holding down the club while I run off with a woman.

  I let out a laugh as I shake my head at what he thought I was going to ask. “What’s so funny?” he asks as he crosses his arms back over his chest.

  “Just forget it,” I say feeling aggravated as I stand from my chair. I start to walk out when he speaks.

  “What the hell is your problem, man?” he demands.

  I spin around to see he too is now standing behind his desk. Arms still crossed over his large chest and nostrils flared.

  Brecken and I have never really fought. We’ve always had each other’s back, but that changed when Taylor entered my life. He didn’t like her. Well, that’s not fair to say. It’s not that he didn’t like her; it’s that he didn’t like I jeopardized our career for her. I put both of us in a bad position.

  “My problem is you,” I find myself saying. But I know it’s not true. I’m the problem. I no longer carry all the anger and hatred for the world that he still does.

  He arches a dark brow. “Excuse me?” He then laughs. “What the hell did I do? Because I seem to be doing your job. I seem to be the one here day in and day out picking up your slack so you can go play house.” His voice rises with every word to the point he’s yelling. “What the hell have you done besides parade Taylor around?”

  “Don’t you dare bring her into this!” I demand.

  “Me bring her into this?” He uncrosses his arms and points a finger toward me. “You’re the one marrying her, for Christ’s sake. You’re the one who chose her over our job.”