Page 57 of Obsession

But my mind’s on the woman across the hall from me. It’s a damn good thing I got the call when I did, or who knows where we would’ve ended up.

I don’t regret it, though. I want her to know that I want her.

I whip off my clothes and climb into bed, ignoring the raging hard-on I still have from kissing her earlier. I need sleep before tomorrow. I punch my pillow, frustrated that she isn’t beside me.

I close my eyes shut tight, willing myself to sleep. My body’s fatigued, but it’s something I’m so used to, I’ve trained myself tostay awake. Once, when I was stationed outside of Paris before the fiasco with the gendarmerie, I stayed awake for thirty-six hours straight, waiting for news from the White House. When I finally heard what I needed to and dozed off, we were under attack an hour later.

I’m no stranger to lack of sleep. Still, I need some or I’ll be useless tomorrow.

I go over the day in my mind. Her coming to me, asking for the job.

I asked Armand to make her think it was her idea to come here. And he did. How was I to know he planned on fuckingrisking her lifeto do it?

I interrogated the shit out of him but didn’t let him go until today. I’ll have to follow up with Joe. My mind’s focused on all things Violet.

Violet.

I need her out of my mind. I have to find Skylar, but we have no fucking leads.

Tomorrow, I’ll burn the city of Salem to the ground to find her.

I close my eyes and see vivid violet eyes.

I remember the way her mouth tasted like berries and cream, fresh, sweet, and decadent. I remember the way her skin felt in my hands, warm, silk-wrapped seduction that I wanted to worship. I remember the way she yielded when I touched her, the only softness she may ever succumb to.

I never have trouble falling asleep. I train hard, I work hard, and when my head hits the pillow, I’m asleep. But tonight, I’mdistracted by the woman lying in a bed only paces from my room, and guilty that I’m even thinking of her when my sister’s in danger.

Why Skylar?

Why Violet?

I can’t shake the feeling that it’s someone after me, someone seeking to get revenge. The list of my enemies is as long as my arm, and I can’t even begin to decipher who it could be. I never heard the name Derrick Dossier before tonight.

She promised she’d help me. I know she will. Together, we’ll find Skylar.

I fall into a deep and dreamless sleep and don’t move or wake until my alarm clock sounds a few hours later.

I stifle a groan and smack the alarm off, get to my feet, and head to the bathroom. Use the facilities, wash my face, scrub a hand through my hair. I sleep bare-chested, the dog tags I wear glinting in the bright overhead lighting. They aren’t mine, but I won’t take them off. They remind me of the man who made me who I am today, for better or for worse. They remind me how I got here.

Where’s Skylar?

Is she hurt?

Is Violet?

Did she sleep well?

I don’t drink, but for once, I understand the appeal of a Bloody-fucking-Mary.

I tug on a tee, jeans, and a pair of socks and boots, then check my phone.

No messages, which shouldn’t be surprising since I only slept a few hours. I glance at the clock. Six thirty. She’s supposed to meet me at the target range at seven.

I’ve got just enough time for a cup of coffee. The door to her room is shut tight, no sound from the other side. She might be tired, but so am I, and if she’s working with me, she’ll learn to deal with sleep deprivation. She’d better not be late.

The house is either wide awake or most of my staff never went to bed last night. I pay them well to work hard for long hours and give them all six weeks of paid leave throughout the year. I guarantee them the best benefits of any other private firm on the East Coast. They’re loyal to the core.

A door slams in the distance, and I pause on the landing. Someone shouts, then Joe’s voice—deeper, calmer—replies.

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