Page 67 of Dangerous Obsession

Marigold couldn’t just sit there, so she threw off the sheet, dashed into the bathroom, and shut the door. She went pee, washed her hands, and splashed cold water on her face. She jerked the door open and hurried over to her dresser, slid out the top drawer, and plucked up a bra and pair of panties. She sensed Viking’s eyes on her as she headed into the walk-in closet.

She wrestled on her bra and panties, then yanked her favorite pair of jeans off the hanger. She hopped to keep her balance and jammed her legs into them and grabbed the first long-sleeved T-shirt she saw. Her favorite sneakers were right there, but she dug to the back of her closet and grabbed her favorite hiking shoes. Marigold rushed back to her dresser and grabbed two mismatched socks. She dropped onto the edge of the bed, shoved her feet into her socks, then shoes, and laced them up.

She wanted to be ready to go as soon as Viking finished his calls.

“Calliope, Eddie is supposed to be meeting with Deborah at ten o’clock.” He set his phone on the bed and continued their conversation while he grabbed clothes from his suitcase. “Call him and have him meet us at the boutique. Make sure he brings Deborah with him.” He pushed down his sweats, pulled on a pair of boxer briefs, and got dressed in some jeans and a T-shirt.

“Will do.” Calliope was all business. “What do you want me to do with the kid?”

“Bring him to the boutique, and we’ll let his mother deal with him.” Viking swiped his phone off the bed, grabbed his rifle and duffle bag, and reached for Marigold’s hand. He led her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. “Confiscate his cell phone and turn it off, and make sure the cuffs are good and tight. A little discomfort might be good for him. I’ll call Cole and have him meet us at the boutique.”

“That kid’s going to get one look at you and Cole and shit his pants.” Calliope gave a mean-sounding snicker.

“That’s the idea.” He opened the small closet by the front door, slid Marigold’s coat from the hanger and helped her put it on. “We’ll see you at the store. And Calliope, be careful.”

“Will do.” She hesitated. “I’m sorry, you guys. I fucked up.”

“No, you didn’t.” Viking’s jaw rippled. “Barnum did.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Cliffslammedhisfooton the gas pedal, but it took the pitiful four-cylinder engine a few seconds to accelerate. Once it did, the car hitched forward and sped down the ramp to Highway 395. He glanced over his shoulder at the traffic, found a small opening, and dove into it, barely missing a little blue sedan. The driver honked and flipped him the bird. So Cliff returned the favor by holding the pistol up to the window.

Terror distorted the man’s features. He slowed down, maneuvered over to the right lane, and quickly exited the freeway.

“Pussy!” Cliff yelled in the guy’s general direction and tucked the gun out of sight between the seat and console.

He settled into the seat, happy to be putting miles between himself and the boutique. The farther away he got, the more his shoulders relaxed and the easier it was for him to concentrate.

Grabbing the kid had been a split-second decision. A crime of opportunity, some might say. And when he saw the camera, knowing Marigold would see the video, he couldn’t help but use it as an opportunity to fuck with her head. She was meek and easy to intimidate, things he could use to get what he wanted from her.

Originally, he’d intended to do a preliminary drive-by of the store, check out the area, and figure out the best way to get to her. Problem was, that asshole—the one who dared to put his hands on her—looked like the kind of guy he’d rather not tangle with, if at all possible.

He slipped his phone from his pocket—his eyes lifting to the road periodically—and scrolled to the photo of her outside her store. Dark thoughts seeped into his mind, filling him with rage at the sight of another man touching what was his. Marigold knew better and would be punished for cheating on him.

There was still another hour or so before he’d arrive at the cabin, so he clicked on the radio and tuned in a classic rock station. In between songs, he heard a strange noise.

He clicked off the radio and listened.

There was a muffled “Help!” followed by athump thump thumpcoming from the back of the car.

Impressive. He’d nailed the kid pretty good and was sure she’d be out for a while. Hell, for a minute there he thought he might’ve even killed her, until she moaned when he tossed her in the trunk. For his plan to work, he needed her alive—at least for a while. When she called Marigold with her desperate pleas for help, it would create the sense of urgency needed when he offered to let her trade herself for the kid.

Cliff cranked up the volume on the radio to drown out her annoying racket and started belting out the lyrics to the AC/DC song.

The place he was headed wouldn’t be found on a map. It had been over twelve years since he’d been to his grandfather’s remote cabin, but he was pretty sure he could still find it. Assuming the damn thing hadn’t collapsed in on itself or been swallowed up by dense forest vegetation.

As far as old people went, his mom’s dad was pretty tolerable, and he thought the sun rose and set on Cliff. And rightly so. Then dementia took his mind and he no longer recognized anyone accept his dead wife in old photos.

He died when Cliff was seventeen and left the property, including the small cabin, to him in his will. Cliff had thought about getting rid of the place, but the property was remote and lacked power and running water, making it a challenge to sell.

“That reminds me.” He snapped his fingers.

He would need some basic supplies and wondered if that little mom-and-pop general store where his grandpa always bought him candy was still there. Even if it was, he couldn’t take a chance stopping, not with the kid banging around in the trunk. Instead, he’d secure her in the cabin, then leave to pick up what he needed.

“Hope you’re not afraid of the dark, kid,” he shouted toward the back seat.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

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