Page 57 of Obsession

I look towards Parker as I step into a secluded room in the basement of the club, which is covered from top to bottom with plastic. Parker and Lars moved Steve and his kidnapper buddy to this location almost a week ago, and now they’re hanging by a rope that is tied around their wrists in the center of the room. Their clothes are a bloody mess, and Steve’s head is lolling forward, which lets me know that he’s out.

Parker strips himself of his blood-stained gloves and throws them into the trash bin, a cheerful smile on his face. “It took a damn week, but I got it. You’ll never guess whom your old manager works for.”

“Who?”

“He works for Johnathan.” I toss Parker a look of confusion and then stare hard at Steve as I continue to listen. “Steve was planted in the club to report everything he saw.”

Johnathan.

I haven’t heard that name in a long time.

“But he barely knows anything,” I say, damn near speechless. “And I’m surprised Johnathan would be this bold to make a move like this.”

Parker shrugs. “The man had the balls to steal twenty million from you and walk away. Why does he spying on you even surprise you?”

“I wasn’t out for that fucker’s blood the first time around,” I say, my tone hard. “But that’s all changed now.”

The betrayal I faced at the hands of the man I once used to trust implicitly still stings, but I haven’t destroyed him for two reasons. First, I blame myself for being asleep at the wheel and allowing this to happen. And second, because I haven’t been able to find the motherfucker. But planting a snitch in my club after he’s blatantly stolen from me? I can’t let that ride. This time, I want Johnathan’s blood on my hands.

I hear footsteps and then see Vaughn step in, staring at the sight of Steve. “Well, is he dead yet? Bullets in the groin never end well.”

“No,” Parker replies lightly. “But he might as well be.”

“Did he admit how Johnathan approached him?” I ask Parker.

“Johnathan?” Vaughn says, his voice shocked. “That fucker came back?”

“Steve met some woman around three years ago. Johnathan sent her. She drugged him, probably fucked him, then made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Your boy here said she’s been at the club more than once.”

“Who is this woman?”

“We looked at some footage, but we need more time. We didn’t find anything yet,” Lars says.

“He said that she asked him for information on your business dealings and personal life, and, most importantly, she wanted to learn everything she could about any weaknesses you have.”

Vaughn snorts, “Weaknesses? Hunter?”

However, I realize this is not at all funny when I see the still look on Lars’s face.

“What is it?” I ask him.

“He wanted to get a sample of your DNA, boss,” Lars answers, his Danish accent thicker than usual today.

“My DNA?” I go still, my attention turning to both Parker and Lars. “For what?”

“It took me an hour of working him to get it out of him, but Johnathan wanted to compare the sample with someone else’s. Some girl. Steve said he managed to see a picture once. He said that the girl was pretty young,” Parker says.

I freeze, and my voice is careful as I ask, “What else did he say about the picture?”

Lars watches me carefully, then replies, “He couldn’t recall her features aside from her ashy blonde hair, but he did say that there was a distinctive scar on the inner side of her right wrist. He remembered because she was holding something in her hand–”

I’m no longer listening. My mind has gone blank.

A scar on her inner wrist.

It’s not possible.

A memory of a burning room, the flames shooting to the sky, the screams of the only two people I held dear to me echoing in my ears.

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