Obsessed

by Aleatha Romig

  Kader was hardwired to mean what he said and only say what he meant.

  Could a passion-filled situation cause him to speak emotionally instead of intellectually?

  For most people, I would have answered yes.

  Kader wasn’t most people.

  After I’d readied myself for whatever the day would bring, I donned the fresh button-down shirt I’d found lying on the chaise by the windows and gathered my dirty clothes. Leaving them in the bedroom in a pile, I stepped into the hallway, determined to accomplish two goals. First, I wanted to learn exactly what Kader had meant and second, to find the laundry room.

  My bare feet stilled at the top of the stairs, my attention focused on the large window above the front doors. The snow had stopped falling after covering the world in a fresh blanket of white. The mountains in the distance were dark, their peaks topped with snow. With all of that, it was the sky that had me entranced, bright and blue and seemingly going on forever.

  Turning back, I took in the number of closed doors and reasoned that it would make sense with this large of a house for the laundry room to be on the second floor. My lip momentarily disappeared behind my teeth as memories of being caught in Kader’s bedroom came back to me. And then I recalled that the only areas he’d deemed as off-limits were his bedroom and office.

  In less than twenty-four hours, those were two of the rooms I had entered.

  Avoiding Kader’s room, I stopped at the door closest to it. Turning the knob, I pushed the door inward. It wasn’t much unlike the room where we’d slept, the one he’d declared mine. The only noticeable difference was that the windows held a different view. This morning, I’d stood at the window in my room, taking in the raw beauty of the ravine, the plains beyond, the mountains in the distance, and the brightening sun.

  Truly it was spectacular.

  I went to another door across the hallway and peered inside. Back to the other side, I opened another. They were all similar.

  Why would a man who was a self-proclaimed recluse have so many furnished bedrooms?

  Back to the landing and beyond Kader’s bedroom there was a second hallway, one not as long as the one leading to my room. The first door I opened was a bathroom, nearly as big as the one attached to my suite. It was at the final door where I found what I’d sought.

  In the grand scheme of life, it seemed odd to be excited about the sheer discovery of a laundry room, yet I was.

  Hurrying back to my bedroom, I gathered my dirty clothes and rushed back to the newly found location.

  As I turned the corner, I stopped.

  It wasn’t that I stopped. I was stopped.

  I collided head-on with a very tall, solid-chested, and wide-shouldered roadblock.

  “Have you enjoyed your tour?”

  Gripping the clothes in my grasp tighter, I pressed my lips together. “Did your house tell on me, again?”

  “Yes.”

  “You said it was only your bedroom and your office—”

  Kader reached for the clothes and took them from my arms. “I also said your argument was faulty.”

  “Give those back.”

  “What if I said I’m satisfied with keeping you here as you are? I have an entire closet of shirts and my argument to keep only those laundered is better than your argument to launder these.” He glanced down at the clothes he was now holding. “Yes, my plan is better. Each day you’ll wake to what I allow you to wear.”

  “Are you crazy? It’s freezing cold out there. I’m not spending another day without...” I huffed, slapping my now-empty hands on my thighs. “...underwear or pants or shirts or socks.” I pursed my lips. “You wear socks to sleep.”

  He dropped the clothes at our feet and took a step toward me, his expression morphing into the man I’d first met—granite and hard as stone. “Tell me, Laurel, are you cold?”

  I wasn’t. That wasn’t the point.

  Stepping in time with one another, we continued until my heels came into contact with the wall behind me. “Kader, this is a ridiculous conversation. You can’t keep me here, wearing your shirts and nothing else. It’s kidnapping—captivity. Shit, it’s like something from the news or a crazy novel.”

  His finger traced over my cheek, making my eyes close and breathing deepen. With a simple touch he incited reactions that should not occur outside the bedroom. Pressing myself against the wall, I backed up as far as I could go, attempting to keep my traitorous nipples away from his chest.

  Kader’s gaze lowered and stalled at the level of my breasts. “I guess you are cold.”

  My palms came to his chest, pushing him away. “You’re being a jerk.”

  He seized my wrist as his tenor cooled with each word. “Be careful. That’s not the way to speak to your kidnapper.”

  Before I could answer, he released my wrist and turned his attention to the first secured button on the shirt I was wearing. The cadence of his speech slowed. “Maybe this was my plan all along.” He slid the button from its place. His large hand moved downward, reaching for the next. “I convinced you that there was danger.” Another button. “I killed your lover.” Another button. “I took you to him.” Another button. “I showed you his body, knowing it would terrify you.” The final button. “And I took you—in every sense of the word—because you’re too fucking sexy. It wasn’t a difficult decision to decide to keep you for myself.” He pushed the shirt to my shoulders. “My own personal sex toy. Come on, Laurel, let’s play.”

  Sex toy?

  “Stop it.” There was a cold, calculating edge to his tone that sent shivers down my spine. Possessive and threatening, the emotion it evoked was no longer desire.

  Kader lifted one arm to the side of my face, caging me against the wall as my breathing accelerated, knees locked, and trembling fingers fisted. Looking up at him, my eyelids blinked rapidly and my lips opened, yet no other words came forward. This was insane.

  Another nudge of the shirt with his long finger. One more and it would fall.

  A brush of my shoulder caused me to stiffen as he teased the material.

  Finding my ability to move, I yanked the shirt from his grasp, gripping the cotton, I wrapped it around my body. “Why would you say that?”

  “Maybe it’s true.”

  “You said you wouldn’t lie.”

  “Maybe I lied. Maybe I’m lying now. I think I’ll fuck you and then we can decide.”

  This wasn’t happening.

  Not after last night.

  My arms wrapped defensively around my midsection as fear snaked up my spine. Thoughts and scenes swirled through my mind, timelines and instances. I shook my head. “No, you’re lying now. What you said isn’t true. I don’t know why, but you’re doing that thing, that thing where you try to scare me. That’s what this is about.”

  He stood taller, letting go of the wall. “Go downstairs and eat. I’ll take care of your clothes.”

  “I can do my own laundry.”

  “You aren’t paying attention.” His words slowed. “Let me make it clear. I don’t plan on washing your clothes. I said I’d take care of them. My plan is to destroy them.” He shrugged. “Incinerate. Evidence, you know.” His voice held the same control and domination as last night, but the emotion was gone, leaving a cold, callous replacement.

  My hands balled to fists as they came to my hips. My muscle control was back and so was my ire. Straightening my shoulders and neck, I stared Kader in his now-chilling green eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

  His chiseled jaw jutted forward. “What is the first thing they tell you in self-defense classes?”

  It seemed like an odd question. “I-I don’t know. Kick them in the balls.”

  “Did you know that women are instrumental in ten percent of all kidnappings? Often they help lure the victim. More importantly, no balls to kick.”

  I stared dumbfounded, unsure of what answer he wanted or expected.

  Kader went on, “No, Laurel. The first thing they tell you to do is to
never leave with a kidnapper. Never get relocated to a second location.” He gestured toward the window. “Look where you are. I can do whatever I want. You could fight me. You could scream. You could run. Without shoes or a coat, you’d freeze before noon. Even if I kept you here into the summer, you wouldn’t make it to civilization. Well, unless you have mad survival skills I’m unaware you possess. If the bears or lynx don’t find you, there’s always the rattlesnakes.

  “Let’s say you make it past those. The second highest animal-related cause of death in this state is insects: wasps, bees, and hornets.” He straightened his lips for a few moments. “Now, that is a thought. Once I’m done with you—finished with my toy—I might enjoy watching how long you’d survive.

  “Most likely the big game won’t cause your death. They will, however, service in your disposal—at first. Then the birds will take over before the insects. It’s a rather tidy system Mother Nature has working in the wild. Just like the clothes, by the time those creatures are done, nothing will be left to identify.”

  I couldn’t comprehend his cruel, unveiled threats.

  Images of each danger flashed through my mind.

  Hypothermia.

  Mauling.

  A snake’s fangs.

  The sting of insects.

  Lost in the wilderness.

  Remains.

  Memories of cadavers in biology courses throughout my education added to the horror his words conjured.

  Kader reached again for my hair, a stray lock between his fingers.

  Flinching, I batted his hand away. “Stop it.”

  A new thought came to my scrambled mind as I pushed potential causes of my demise away and recalled the surveillance of my kitchen. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, why you’re being an ass, but you didn’t kill Russ. He entered my house with a second person. I saw him with my own eyes. It was in real time.” Though tears threatened, I refused to give in. “You were with me. You didn’t do it.”

  “I kill people. It’s what I do.”

  “Fine. That’s what you do. I’m not sure what lures a person into your line of work, but I’d suspect that the people you...do that to—”

  “Kill,” Kader interrupted. “The word you’re refusing to say is kill.”

  I inhaled and exhaled. “The people you kill are bad people.”

  “I was hired to kill you. Do you qualify as bad? Or maybe I was hired to kill Cartwright and decided to keep you in the process. You could consider yourself a bonus for a job well done.”

  “You didn’t kill him.” My voice grew higher, shriller. “You’re not going to do any of those things to me that you said.”

  “I have you here in the middle of nowhere, wearing only my shirt.”

  Despite my obvious distress, his timbre remained cold.

  “I fucked you in a dark basement. I took you again last night. I could do it again, right here, maybe your ass this time. I can only imagine how fucking tight that would be.” He reached for my hand and pressed it over the top of his blue jeans. “Feel that? I’m getting hard even thinking about it.” Releasing my hand, he again teased the edge of the shirt. “Go ahead, Laurel. Tell me again what I won’t do.”

  My head was shaking as I used two hands to push against his solid chest. “Stop this. You’re not scaring me.” It was a lie. He was. “You can’t keep me. I’m not a possession to be played with.”

  Taking a deep breath, Kader nodded before tilting his head toward the short hallway. “I’m glad you finally realize the truth. Don’t fool yourself into a false sense of security. This isn’t some fairy tale with a happy ending. We aren’t fucking playing house.

  “You’re an assignment—a job. Nothing more. I can make big money with your research and development. I’m a businessman. I never said I was ethical. You will be leaving here as soon as possible. Behave, do as I say, when I say it, and your departure won’t be out to Mother Nature.” He took a step back, his gaze scanning from my head to my toes. “Button my shirt. Put your clothes in the washer. There’s food downstairs in the kitchen. I expect you to eat. And then we have video surveillance to watch. Knock before entering my office. Today’s top priority is your assistance in writing the notice announcing the sale of your research and development. It has to sound knowledgeable.”

  My head was spinning.

  What the hell happened?

  With Kader’s list of decrees delivered, he took another step back. The spark from last night long extinguished, in its place was a green icy chill. “Just so we’re clear, all of the rules are back in place. Stay out of my bedroom, touching me is prohibited, and enter my office only with my permission. Break even one of those and you won’t have to wonder if I mean what I say. We’re far from civilization. My options for punishment are vast.”

  The heaviness of his words fell over both of us, a black cloud obliterating any previous connection.

  “Kader.”

  My single-worded plea hung unanswered in the air. He turned his back, displaying his ponytail, broad shoulders, and long, jean-covered legs. Without another word—or even so much as a glance my direction—Kader descended the stairs, leaving me more alone.

  Maybe he’d lied.

  Maybe he told the truth.

  Which Kader was real?

  Which one could I believe?

  Kader

  The pressure should have splintered my teeth. Second by second, I applied more and more until my jaw ached and my facial muscles grew taut. It wasn’t only the information I’d learned—at least that wasn’t the most prevalent cause of my distress. The internal battle within me showed no signs of ending anytime soon. My only hope was to do as I’d said—get Laurel the fuck away from me and end this assignment once and for all.

  Regarding my assignment, the avalanche was still falling, one flake leading to another, burying me in information.

  What was important?

  What could I disregard?

  There were a few newly discovered items that Laurel needed to know. The first was that her house was processed by an IMPD forensic team prior to her parents’ arrival. That didn’t fully answer my questions.

  If a forensic team had already been there, dusted for prints, and searched for evidence, why would the detective and uniformed policewoman enter first? They should have known there was nothing present to surprise her parents.

  The sweep had been done Thursday morning. That timing fit the forty-eight-hour window but barely.

  What prompted the investigation?

  Had the police received a call?

  Was it a tip about Cartwright?

  Had Laurel been set up?

  Why didn’t they find my cameras?

  The answer to my last question was because I was fucking good at what I did. That led to the next question.

  How had the person with Cartwright found them so quickly upon entry?

  My setup had many different computers, networks, and VPNs. Currently on a different system, I had facial recognition running on both the detective and the officer. After what happened the night I saved Laurel from the university—with the fake policemen—I was beginning to wonder if the two accompanying the Drs. Carlson were truly IMPD.

  Or maybe it was the forensic team that wasn’t legitimate.

  Besides the added pressure to my teeth and jaw, my current headache was exacerbated by the woman on the other screen high above my head. I had the house set for motion detection as well as one on her bedroom. That was how I’d been alerted to her fishing expedition for the laundry room. It was also how I knew that at this moment, she had a load of laundry running and one drying. She’d also gone down to the kitchen to find the food I’d left out for her on the island, had taken it back up to her room, and was currently sitting on the chaise in her room looking out the window. The fucking protein bar and yogurt were on a table beside her—unopened. The only thing she’d consumed were a few drinks from the water bottle.

  Yes, I was aware that a protein bar, yogurt
, and water did not constitute a breakfast of champions. I’d watched her morphing expression as she entered the otherwise empty kitchen, as well as the one from earlier on the landing when I’d walked away from her, the way her hands trembled as she slowly closed the buttons on my shirt. I’d zoomed in to see the tears descending her cheeks and the red blotches that climbed higher and higher up her neck as she stoically fought her myriad emotions, no doubt wondering what the fuck had happened.

  The end justifies the means.

  That was what they said—whoever the hell they were.

  My goal was to save her. That meant she needed to get away from me. I was the last person in the world to be labeled a savior. I was the opposite and it was time she faced that—time I faced it.

  It didn’t matter. It was done. I couldn’t go back, and I wouldn’t admit that every fucking word out of my mouth this morning was laced with lies. Laced with—not outright lies. If she’d truly listened, Laurel would realize I’d spoken in generalizations, maybes, and perhaps.

  Maybe I lied.

  Maybe I’m lying now.

  This was for the best. No matter how much it hurt, it would be for the best.

  Once during the night, Laurel had stirred, sitting straight up. In her sleep, she’d called out for Cartwright. That didn’t bother me. They had a history and what she’d seen could not be unseen.

  What happened next was what bothered me. Laurel had been asleep with her subconscious speaking. Even in that state, when I reached out to her, when our hands touched, she sighed, lay back on her pillow, and said my name.

  Not my given name—the one I’d been told. The name Laurel knew.

  “Kader.”

  After that, it took me a while to fall back to sleep. My mind was a hurricane of thoughts. I’d fucked up the assignment. I had taken her from her life’s work. I was the opposite of what she should have in her life. With a thousand strikes against me, while in a state of slumber, she’d found solace in my presence.

  And then there was last night. I couldn’t come up with an explanation for my behavior or reactions. It would be similar to a dieter devouring a chocolate cake. As the sweet aroma filled the air and the fork descended through the layers of icing and moist cake, there was elation. As the decadence landed upon the tongue and incited the taste buds, there was satisfaction. And yet, once it was over and the cake was consumed, the overpowering guilt brought on by self-indulgence was crushing. It wasn’t only the cake but the loss of willpower, the loss of self-control.