Page 39 of Obsession

HUNTER

I’m staring at the tattoo on my arm and recalling its meaning. If you want to become whom you are destined to be in this world, you need to apply pressure to everything and every one until you get what you want...until you get what you deserve. It’s a simple premise that has so far worked in my favor.

Apply calculated pressure.

Get the desired results.

The inspirational word, inked forever in my skin, is supposed to serve as a visual reminder of all that I’ve done to get where I am in life, but it must be losing some of its potency because I’m starting not to recognize myself.

My reactions to Megan are not how I normally respond to people who intrigue me, amuse me, or upset me. I’ve never lost control so easily when it comes to a woman, but when I saw that flash of heat in her eyes as she looked at me, dressed in that delicate silk blouse that stretched against her breasts and the figure-hugging pencil skirt outlining her curves, I felt my leash snap.

I could have simply told her from across the room about the clothing tag mistakenly left attached to her skirt, but at that moment, my dick did all the speaking for me. I was undisciplined and approached her, feeling almost like I was unable to help myself.

I started it.

It’s good you know I’m nothing special.

The look in her eyes when she said that, the emptiness, haunts me. It was as if her internal flame, the vibrance that makes Megan who she is, was suddenly extinguished. She looked at me as if I finally saw her for whom she thought she truly was.

I had expected her to get angry, to lash out at my cruel words, but I hadn’t expected this reaction. Now, I stare at the door, wondering if I should go back out there and seek her out. I may be a monster, but even someone like me has boundaries. I’m not usually cruel to women, and I was cruel just now.

There’s a knock on my door, and I look up. A part of me wonders whether it’s Megan, but it’s Parker who enters. “Hey, boss, do you know what happened to Megan? She just left, and it’s only the new dude out there.”

“Left?” I stare at him. “Left where?”

“She said she was going home, but the weird thing is that she didn’t get her coat, bag, or anything. She just walked out. The city is experiencing an unusually cold front, and it’s fucking freezing out there. Maybe I should find her and drive her home?”

My blood grows cold.

Has she lost her fucking mind?

I stride across the room. “Which way did she go?”

“The exit down the hall,” Parker replies, looking visibly confused. “Is everything okay?”

“Does everything look fucking okay, Parker?” I bite back.

Why the hell didn’t Parker stop her? What am I paying him for? This is what I get for hiring amateurs as security. Vaughn tried to warn me. I should have hired someone with actual credentials, like a retired cop or something.

“I guess not, boss.”

I throw open the door of the exit as I storm outside, angry with Parker but mostly with myself. I’m the reason why she’s wandering the streets of LA without a jacket or her wallet or her phone, for God’s sake.

“Miss Taylor, are you out here?”

I call for her as I look for her outside of the club, but she’s not in the alleyway. There’s a cold wind blowing, and if she gets sick because she’s out here without a jacket, I may just kill her myself.

Cursing her for making me feel like a desperate idiot, Parker peeps his head out the club door as I roar, “Bring the goddamn car around!”

Parker hurries to obey as I continue looking for her. It may be one of the first times ever that I’ve wished that Blue Whiskey was located in a nicer part of town. This isn’t an area that you’re supposed to be taking evening strolls in. You’re just supposed to come to the club, drink, get in a car, and go home.

I remember that Megan doesn’t have a car and typically takes the city bus to and from work, so I walk quickly toward where I remember the nearest bus stop is located. Hell, it’s been years since I’ve even stepped foot on a bus.

Fuck, she’s not there.

I’ve covered over two blocks when I see a familiar curvy figure in the distance, but Megan is not alone. At first glance, I think she’s meeting with someone from her school, but as a car rushes past me, I see a hooded figure lift something that looks like a baseball bat and bring it down on her head.

“Megan!!!”

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