Obsession (Seven Deadly Sins Book 2)

by Shantel Tessier

  He smiles. “A woman who likes to be surprised. I like that,” he says, and I bite my bottom lip nervously.

  He pulls a bottle from behind him and opens it up. He then grabs a champagne flute and fills it before sliding it to me. “Thank you …” My voice dies as his phone rings again.

  He gives me an apologetic smile as he answers it. “Hello?” I take a sip and frown at how fruity it tastes. “Oh, hey, James.” My body stiffens as he says his name. I cough, and I spit out my drink. I lift my hand to wipe the excess as it runs down my chin.

  He looks up at me and hands me a napkin. I snatch it out of his hand. “Yeah, we can do that,” he says as I listen. “Tomorrow night?” His voice softens to a whisper, but I can still hear him. “Do we have the limo?” he asks. This is my chance. It’s him on the other end of this guy’s phone. Have they done this to other women? Is it something they do often?

  My palms start to sweat, and my heart races. I want to ask him what happened to Tiffany, but I bite my tongue. I can’t blow this chance. I have to be patient and play it through.

  I try to listen as he continues to talk, but his voice is too low now.

  Then he hangs up his phone and places it in his pocket. This is my chance. I need to get in on this. I smile up at the guy who served me a drink. “How long have you worked here?” I question.

  “I own it,” he says with a satisfied smile.

  Oh! Even better. “Tonight is my first night here,” I say looking around as if I like the place.

  “Really? What brings you in?” he asks, sounding interested.

  “A friend,” I say simply. Where is Jet anyway? Did he fall in?

  “Hope they had a good time.”

  It takes everything I have to keep my smile up. But I do it. I almost forgot Tiffany is the true friend who brought me to this place. “The best.” He frowns as if he can hear the sarcasm in my voice, but I continue. “She says it’s much better than Seven Deadly Sins.” I’m gonna bait the hook.

  His eyes widen, and he places his forearms on the bar and leans forward. “Seven Deadly Sins, huh? You go there a lot?”

  And he bit. “I work there,” I lie.

  “Really?”

  I nod. “I work tomorrow night.” Another lie. “You should come up and see me. Drinks on me.” I need in on whatever they are doing. I need to know where they take the girls when they leave the bar. More importantly, I need to get to James. Whoever the hell he is. And I’m willing to do anything that will get me there.

  “A woman is never supposed to buy a man his drinks,” he says as if he’s a gentleman.

  “Then you can buy mine.”

  He smiles, and his eyes land on my tits. Yeah, you’re not a gentleman, but I’ll play along. He reaches his hand across the bar and introduces himself. I hold my breath. “I’m Oscar.”

  I let it out and place my hand in his. “Ann.” I use Tiffany’s middle name because it’s the only one I can think of at the moment.

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Ann.” He pulls away and then slides a little bar napkin across to me. One that doesn’t have drool on it. “Here, give me your number.”

  I pause as I hover over the napkin. Give him mine? What if he doesn’t call me? Should I get his? I don’t wanna seem too desperate, though. I want him to think he has a chance with me but not overdo it. I don’t want him to think I’m the type to blow his phone up. I just wanna make sure that when they pick up the girls tomorrow night, I’m one of them. They’ll lead me straight to where Tiffany was. And maybe James.

  Making a decision, I write down my number and slide it back to him. “I look forward to seeing you.” Then I stand up and start to walk toward the door.

  I see Jet walk out of the bathroom, and he spots me. Without saying a word, he follows me out the front door and into the parking lot. “Did you get what you needed?” he asks when we’re finally out in the darkness.

  “No. Dead end,” I lie again. The less he knows, the better. I know he’s on my side here, but I have a feeling telling him I have a date tomorrow night may be where he draws the line.

  He pulls his keys out of his pocket and starts to walk to his car. “I’m gonna catch a cab back to my apartment,” I tell him. I don’t wanna go back to Brecken’s.

  He doesn’t argue like Brecken would. He just reaches into his back pocket, pulls out his wallet, and hands me some cash. “For the cab,” he says. Then he turns around and walks off into the dark. I’m really starting to like him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BRECKEN

  I pull up to my house and frown when I don’t see Jet’s car. I pull my cell out and call him.

  “Where you at?” I demand when he answers.

  “Home.”

  “Is Skye with you?” I growl.

  “No. She wanted to go home.”

  I shove my Range Rover in reverse and then speed out of my neighborhood. “Home?” I snap. “Why the hell did you let her go home?” I demand.

  She doesn’t need to be at her apartment. Tiffany has been dead for six days, and we have no idea who did it. And her purse is still missing. I know that it could be in a ditch somewhere, but someone could also have all of her information. Either way, it’s not safe for her to be at her apartment. Not alone anyway.

  “What did you want me to do?” he asks as if annoyed. “Want me to handcuff her to your bed? Tell her that she can’t go home?” He snorts. “Wake up, Brecken. You can’t tell her what she can and can’t do.”

  I grind my teeth. “You’re a fucking cop, Jet. You know just as well as I do that she could be in danger.”

  “I do. But I also know you can’t make someone do something they don’t want to do.” His voice has softened, and I have a feeling he’s talking about his past. But I ignore the fact that I care. He is not my priority right now—she is—so I hang up.

  Twenty minutes later, I pull into her apartment complex. I storm up the stairs taking them three at a time and then bang on her door. When she doesn’t answer, I do it again. “Open up, Skye,” I demand.

  The door swings open, and she stands there. A white shirt hangs off one shoulder, and she’s wearing a pair of black cotton shorts.

  “What are you doing here, Brecken?” she growls.

  I remove my eyes from her legs and move my gaze up to meet hers. They narrow on me. She’s angry, and I like it. I hated to see that look of pure horror on her face when she looked at her dead friend. But hate—I can deal with hate any day of the week.

  “Because I got home and you weren’t there.”

  She snorts. “This is my house, Brecken. This is where I live.” She spins around giving me her back, and I allow myself to look at her ass. Is it bad that I like what I see?

  “Well, for the last two days you’ve been lying in my bed,” I remind her. “Crying your eyes out. And now, all of a sudden, you’re fine?” I ask.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asks with a sigh. “Crying won’t bring her back.”

  “You’re right, it won’t, but you’re allowed to grieve, Skye. If you need more time …”

  She shakes her head quickly. “Don’t do this to me again, Brecken,” she growls. “Don’t come here to my home and tell me what I already know.” Her voice rises. “What I saw with my own eyes,” she shouts. “Don’t tell me how to feel.” Her voice shakes as she yells at me. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

  “I’m trying to keep you safe,” I growl.

  “And quit fucking saying that,” she snaps.

  “What do you want me to say?” I yell back.

  “I want you to leave me alone,” she growls fisting her hands by her sides. “I want you out of my house.” She points at her door. “And I want you to quit trying to save me.” Her eyes are wide with anger, and her chest rises and falls quickly as she breathes heavily. Her lips part as she sucks in breath after breath. I want to kiss her. I want to push her up against the wall and kiss her until she’s weak in the knees. Then I could carry her out of here. Maybe
take her back to my house and fuck her. The picture that Jet painted in my mind with her cuffed to my bed sounds fucking amazing. And my cock agrees. Have my way with her. Then she would be safe and satisfied. But I don’t because going there with her isn’t a good idea. I need to keep my distance from her while trying to keep her safe at the same time.

  She turns around giving me her back. “Leave, Brecken,” she says with a heavy sigh.

  “I’m not leaving without you,” I say.

  She comes to a stop and turns to face me again. “Do you plan to drag me out of here?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

  I do the same. “If it comes down to that.” She swallows nervously. “You need to move,” I say, looking away. My eyes run over her little apartment. It has to hurt to live here, where everything she looks at reminds her of Tiffany. I haven’t been back home since I left because I hated the fact that everywhere I looked, I saw Nicole. “You said you planned to move anyway,” I remind her.

  “Yes, with Tiffany. Once she came home. Now … Now, I’m staying until I find her killer.” She shakes her head. “I’m not going to run.”

  Stupid girl! “What if they come after you?”

  “Let them!” She shrugs carelessly. “What don’t you understand?” she demands. “I don’t care.”

  I walk up to her. “What don’t you understand?” I shout. “They’re gonna kill you.”

  Her nostrils flare, and her eyes start to water. She’s about to break again. “Let. Them.” She says each word with fierce determination.

  It breaks my heart. I’m tired of people trying to get themselves killed. I have been shot. I had that feeling where I almost died. And it’s not a feeling I wanna go back to. I don’t want to be a dick, but there is one way that I can get her to see where I’m coming from. “Your friend, Tiffany.” She swallows. “She lived for about ten hours,” I say, remembering what the examiner explained. “She was beaten. Both her arms were broken.”

  “Stop,” she says, choking out the word. But I don’t.

  “Her right hand was broken from how hard she fought back.” She shakes her head as a tear falls down her face. “She had burn marks from a cigarette on her inner thighs.” She places her hands over her ears. I wrap my hands around her small wrists and pull them away. She fights me, but I pin them down to her thighs. “She was choked with wire ...”

  “Stop.”

  “She was punched in the stomach …”

  “Stop!” she cries.

  “She was pinned down and beat,” I growl in her face. “But none of that killed her.” She closes her eyes and tears roll down her cheeks. “She was awake for every excruciating moment.” She fought hard. And it wasn’t just one man, it was several. But that still didn’t kill her. “Wanna know what killed her?”

  She opens her eyes. Fresh tears fall. “Fuck you,” she whispers.

  I hate how the word fuck sounds coming from her mouth. She meant it to be an insult. Instead, it was breathless, and it has my cock hardening. I clear my throat.

  “She died of internal bleeding.” She was dead before they tossed her into the river. Whoever killed her took their time. No rush. They knew what they were doing. They broke bones first; possibly strangled her while doing it. Then they started hitting her where they knew they’d do damage on the inside that you can’t see. Then they just waited for her body to shut down. “Someone stood over her and watched her die, and she probably begged them to help her. To stop. But they didn’t. And then, after she was dead, they tossed her into a river …”

  She tries to yank her hands free, and I let her. She gives me her back, and her hands fly up to cover her face. She sobs, and I stand there feeling like a complete jackass, but she needs to know. I’ve seen the darkest part of people. All she sees is her best friend who was brutally murdered. Whoever she wants to fight will kill her too.

  “Skye …” I take a step toward her but stop when she spins around to face

  me.

  Her green eyes narrow in anger and her nostrils flare. “Get the fuck out,” she orders.

  I shake my head. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you agree to leave with me.”

  She leans down and grabs a glass picture frame off the coffee table. “Get ooouuutttt!” she yells as she flings it at my head. I duck, and it hits the wall behind me. The sound of glass breaking follows.

  She lets out another sob and runs over to it. She falls to her knees, and she picks the picture up out of the broken shards and clutches it to her chest.

  I walk over to her and kneel beside her. “Skye …” I reach out to her, and she looks up at me. My heart pounds faster as her dark green eyes land on mine. The sorrow I see in them makes my chest tighten. Tears roll down her face as she cries her eyes out. I should say something nice, something to comfort her, since I’m the reason she’s crying right now, but I don’t. Instead, I stare at her beauty. Her face is clear of makeup, and she looks stunning. The way her eyes shine takes my breath away. I reach up and wipe the tears away softly with my thumbs. They fall faster than I can wipe them away, though. They’re unstoppable. And so is my mind. I can’t help but like the way her lips part. The way her head tilts back as she looks up at me. The way her eyes beg me to help her. To take the pain away.

  “She’s … gone,” she cries, and it interrupts my thought; it has me remembering that I did this to her. I said what I had to say in order to get my way. To get her to move. To trust me. To be with me instead of here. I could take care of her. I can take care of her. And not only do I have to worry about the men who killed her friend, but I also have to worry about her punk ass ex who laid his hands on her two days ago. I need to remember to take care of his ass.

  I pull her into my arms, and she doesn’t fight me. She crawls into my lap as she wraps her arms around my chest and squeezes me as if I’m her savior. I hate that I want to be exactly that for her. And I hate that all I can think about right now is laying her down and taking her pain away. Make her feel nothing but pleasure. I’m such a bastard. Sobs wrack her body as she clings to me. “I’m sorry,” I say, running a hand through her hair. “I shouldn’t have ...” But I knew what I was doing. The apology is just a formality, and we both know it.

  She pulls back and punches me in the chest, finding that anger again. That fight I like to see from her. “I hate you,” she cries out. A few more punches. “I hate you.” Her words are broken, and I hold her tighter.

  “I know,” I say, pulling her back to me. I love the way her small body feels in my arms. The way she holds me even though she doesn’t realize it. Her hands grip my shirt, and her heart beats rapidly against my chest. My shirt is soaked with her tears, and I like it.

  “She’s left me all alone.” She sobs into my chest.

  “I’m here,” I say, not even thinking twice about the words. “I’m here. Let me help you,” I say, running my hand down her back. I might have made her hate me, but she doesn’t even know what hate is. Once she finds out the secret I’m keeping from her, she’ll really hate me.

  “Please …” she begs as I hold her tightly to me. I don’t know what she’s begging for but neither does she. Right now, I would do anything for this pain of hers to go away, which is crazy since I’m the one who caused it.

  SKYE

  I open my eyes, and the sun filling my small apartment through the window tells me it’s no longer nighttime. I have a throbbing headache from all the crying I did last night. I wanted to punch Brecken in the face for everything that he was saying to me, but I know why he did it. He was trying to scare me. But that’s not what it did. It made me even more determined to find her killer. To get to James. It made me desperate to get answers. And a desperate woman is a fearless one.

  I look up and gasp in surprise when I see my bathroom door open. Brecken walks out wiping his hands with a towel, dressed in the same clothes as last night. “You stayed here all night?” I ask in shock. I quickly pat down my chest and legs, thankful I’m still dressed in the
same clothes I changed into after I got home from Throb last night. I’ve gotten too comfortable with him. I wouldn’t put it past me to get undressed and crawl into bed with him.

  His eyes follow my hands as I reassure myself that nothing happened between us. If I offended him by it, he doesn’t say. “Yes. I stayed.” He then walks past me sitting on the couch and to my small kitchen area.

  “Why?” I ask softly. I hate that I had a total meltdown last night, proving him right. I’m weak. Once again clinging to him as if he’s some guy who really cares about my feelings.

  “Because it’s not safe for you to be here by yourself.” He opens up the fridge and grabs a couple of waters. I don’t have any coffee or pop in the house. Bottled water is all I have.

  I run a hand through my hair. “You keep saying that, yet I don’t believe you. No one is after me.” Not who he thinks anyway.

  He comes back over to the couch and sits down on the floor, his back against the wall. He hands me a water and then opens his own. “You can never be too careful.”

  I look down at my water, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t understand why you care. Why you’re so worried about me.” No one has ever really cared about me, other than Tiffany.

  He sighs, and I look up at him through my lashes. He’s looking down at his hands on the water bottle. “I lost someone once,” he says, and my heart hurts for him. “I know what it’s like to lose everything you’ve ever loved. To have someone ripped from you.”

  “Was it your best friend?” I ask softly. This is my chance to get to know the Brecken that I feel no one else gets to see. I wanna know as much as I can about this man because I have a feeling he’s not gonna be walking away anytime soon. And that thought has my heart beating faster.

  He looks as if he’s trying to think of the right response. “She was many things to me. A best friend was one.”

  I swallow nervously. I wanna ask if she was a girlfriend. A wife? A sister? But I don’t. I broke down crying last night at just the mention of Tiffany’s name. I can’t imagine that feeling getting any better when you talk about someone you lost.