Page 3 of Obsession

If I die, I die.

At least I won't have to pay rent once I'm dead.

There's always an upside to every situation.

I've already reached them, and without stopping, I lift up one heavy bottle and smash it down on the head of the man in front of me. He goes down, crumpling to the floor. His companion sees me and sneers, reaching out to me.

“I don’t think so, fuck face,” I growl, ignoring the other bottle in my hand and kneeing him in the crotch.

His scream is the best sound I've heard all day. When he joins his companion on the ground, I make it a point to kick him in the balls again.

Sally is crying, trying to fix her ruined clothes, and I scowl at her, “What are you doing standing there like an idiot? Run!”

Her eyes widen, and then, for the first time, she actually obeys me, sprinting towards the front door and out. No one tries to stop her. The first man that I hit with the bottle grabs my ankle, and I stumble forward onto the table. The grey-eyed asshole sitting there, watching me in amusement, blinks when my flailing hand hits him, and I spill his entire drink on his suit.

His small smile disappears, and out of nowhere, I see the men sitting on the surrounding tables jump to their feet. I freeze when I realize that there are more than ten guns pointed in my direction while I lay splattered on a table, my face nearly at crotch level with this stranger who is still watching me.

The entire club has gone silent at this point, and even the man who had grabbed my ankle is frozen in fear. Grey-eyes tilts his head slightly, and two of the men put back their guns and move forward. I hear grunts from behind me and then a pained moan, and I realize they’re dragging away his companions from the table.

I swallow, asking in a meek voice, “If I move, will they shoot me?”

He stares at me and then the corner of his lips quirks up again. “Would you like for them to shoot you?”

His voice is raspy and deep, and a shiver runs down my spine at the sound. This time, it's not just fear. I can feel my lower muscles tighten in a spasm of need that I didn’t anticipate, and horror washes over me at my reaction.

“No,” I squeak and then quickly add, for politeness’s sake, “Sir.”

I see a dark emotion move behind his eyes, and it's almost hypnotizing. “Bang, bang.”

I don’t know if he’s teasing me or if it’s a directive for someone in the room, so my mouth turns dry. “Excuse me?”

His hand suddenly reaches out and puts a finger under my jaw, tilting my head back to face him. My heart is pounding so fiercely that I wonder if he can hear it.

“You ruined my suit.”

I blink at him, “What?”

He gestures towards his suit. “How will you pay me back for the damage?”

“It's a suit,” I say slowly. “You're going to shoot me over a suit?”

He gives me a steady look.

A smart idea would be to apologize, beg for forgiveness, and swear on everyone's life but my own that I will pay for dry cleaning. However, the fact that to him, his suit is more valuable than my life is pissing me off. So, I don't do the smart thing.

I do the stupid thing and say, “It's not my fault your hand was in the way.”

From behind me, at the bar, I hear Steve moan, “Megan, no!”

But I've already said it.

And since I've already aggravated the lion, there's no harm in going out with a bang. So, I glare at the man and say, “I'm not sorry, and your suit is ugly. Now, at least you have a reason to throw it away.”

I hear a thump on the ground and wonder if Steve has passed out. The adrenaline running through my veins is pushing away the fear.

“My life is shitty enough,” I say to the man. “Go ahead and shoot me. At least I know I saved a girl’s life in the process. What did you do? Sit in your expensive suit and watch her get assaulted! What kind of man even does that? And you know what else?”

I don't know why I can’t shut my mouth, but it's like I'm on a roll. Perhaps, if I piss him off enough, he’ll just shoot me quicklyand get this over with. I hope he doesn’t dump me out back, though. I deserve at least a small funeral.

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