Page 44 of Obsession

As I take in my new surroundings, a moment of realization hits me, and I shoot Vaughn a sharp look. He meets my gaze in the rearview mirror and shrugs. The neighborhood is a familiar one to both of us, and apparently, it is where Megan lives.

Just when I thought this night couldn’t get any worse.

Chapter 15

Little Do They Know

HUNTER

Idon’t say much of anything as Vaughn parks the car in front of what I suppose is Megan’s apartment building. The building is run down, and the entire street only has two working streetlights. The last time I was in this decrepit neighborhood, I brazenly killed a man. It was a crime of passion, not intelligence, and almost did a lot of time for it. Luckily, I had a police chief in my pocket who made the whole thing go away for me.

After that unrestrained incident of violence, I promised myself that night that I would stay out of this neighborhood and never soil my hands with bodywork again. I would leave that for contract killers and other desperate souls. Of course, that promise to myself has gone up in smoke since I’ve met Megan. Steve had to be handled, and it had to be me to do it. The shit was personal.

I can see a few men loitering around and I internally roll my eyes to myself. This is going to be a problem. Their small group is across the street, gathered on the steps of a building, smokingand drinking as they watch us. I step out of the car, meeting their gaze. I can see them eyeing the expensive Bentley and when they walk over to us, I feel a hint of depraved amusement.

“That’s a sleek ride you got,” one of them comments, running his hand over the hood.

Here we go.

Megan is trying to get out of the car, but I block her path, casually standing in front of the open door. Vaughn gets out, too, looking formidable, standing next to the car with his arms crossed.

“It is,” I agree.

The one who’s talking, the leader of this ragtag group, I have to assume, has a mean look in his eyes and tattoos all over his face like some wannabe biker.

Unsightly.

“You should know better than to bring something like this in this neighborhood,” he comments.

“Why?” I smile, my eyes tracking his every movement. “Do I have something to be worried about?”

Megan is trying to push past me and I put my hand on her shoulder, my hold firm, not allowing her to move.

The men sneer at me, and their leader grins, a disturbing look if you take his silver teeth into account, “Why don’t you let me drive this baby around the block? I’ll park it somewhere safe for you.”

“Why don’t you go back to where you were sitting, and I’ll try not to dig your eyes out with my fingers?” I say lightly. “Does that seem like a fair deal?”

Megan flinches under my touch. The man’s smile disappears, and I can see the ugliness underneath. He’s quick to dig out a switchblade from his jacket’s pocket, and I scoff at the sight of the tiny weapon.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Vaughn’s body tense up, ready to spring into action. We’ve had many scuffles in our time, and the shit going on with his lady probably has him itching for a fight.

“Give me your wallet and the car keys!” The man brandishes the tiny weapon, and then he peers into the car, and his smile turns into a leer. “And I’ll take that little girlfriend of yours too.”

I was amused by this exchange at first, reminds me of old times, but when I feel Megan’s hand clench the fabric of my pants at the man’s words, an icy feeling settles over me. The man is still watching me, looking like he just struck the mother load, and his little group is watching in anticipation, clearly ready to jump at me and Vaughn at a moment’s notice.

Little do they know.

I eat assholes like them for breakfast.

I exchange a brief look with Vaughn before quickly whipping out the gun, which I just shot Steve with. My first shot is aimed at the hand holding the knife, and the loud echo of the gunshot makes the men flinch. As their leader howls, clutching his hand in pain, I point the gun at his forehead, my tone eerily pleasant, “Why don’t you repeat what you just said?”

It’s clear from the expression on the faces of these corner boys that violence is second nature to them. However, they look taken aback because they hadn’t expected it from me. All of them draw weapons of different forms and sizes on us, but only three of them are holding guns. It’s the mouthy one clutching his hand who finally recognizes me, and his face grows white as a sheet.

“Fuck, you’re–“

My next bullet lands in his shoulder, and he screams in agony, scrambling back. “Wait! I didn’t know it was you. I’m sorry.“

His cronies look to be a mixture of confused, angry, and scared.

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