Page 141 of Arran's Obsession

Genevieve

The lift descended the warehouse’s interior, and I subtly rubbed my backside. One of my cheeks throbbed like an insect had stung me. Probably something to do with Arran removing my clothes in my sleep again, though it wasn’t like him to be clumsy with his knife.

Once he left, I couldn’t sleep for worry. I’d played with Rosie for a while, but even she’d curled up to rest. Divide and Divine were closed, but the brothel would be open a while longer, so maybe I could find someone to chat with.

At my side, a member of the security crew silently marked me. Unsurprisingly, one had been waiting outside the apartment door, a man I distantly recognised from being in the office withArran when he’d brought in another team after the encounter with the Four Milers.

I didn’t know his name, nor had he offered it, and it was a little strange that the security chief himself wasn’t the person waiting for me.

“Isn’t Manny around this evening?” I asked.

The lift passed the sixth floor.

The guard glanced my way then gave a single nod, the bright lift making his features all the more severe. “Mr Manford is monitoring the third floor, miss.”

The brothel. Where I wanted to hang out. My lingering unease was slightly mollified. I trusted Manny. He was friendly and shared random facts.

The light illuminated the floor-five sign. At four, the lift stopped, the doors opening.

I squinted out into the corridor. It resembled a hotel with single doors spaced at intervals. What had Manny said, that it was made up of bedroom suites? “Why did we stop?”

My guard drew his dark eyebrows in and pressed the button for three. It did nothing, the doors remaining open. “I’m not sure.”

He touched a button at his lapel. “Penthouse lift has failed.” At whatever he heard in his ear, he nodded and exited into the corridor. “We’ll take the stairs while someone looks into the lift. It’s only a single flight.”

“Okay.” I stepped out, my hackles up.

He gestured for me to go ahead.

I hadn’t minded exploring the warehouse with Arran, or with Alisha for the short tour she’d given me. But this man was a stranger, and creeping along a softly lit and apparently deserted corridor with him behind me felt off.

A door opened ahead, and a woman slipped from a room, heading the other way from us. I breathed and started walking.Then a man appeared from the same room. In a split second of seeing his side profile, I recognised him.

The mayor of Deadwater.

My lips parted in a degree of unwarranted shock—he used this place, I knew that—and my fingers went automatically to the choker at my throat. But then my breath was knocked from me as, in a rush, my guard turned on me.

I gave anoofthat was cut off by his arm muffling my mouth. Abruptly, he threw me into a dark bedroom. Floor lights sprang on.

The guard released me, and I spun around.

I wanted to challenge him and ask what the hell he was doing, but fear held my tongue. Instead, with my heart racing, I backed into the suite. A huge bed with black-and-pink linen took up a big portion of the room, and a wet room lay beyond, with a spa bath and tiled walls and floor.

Perfect for clearing up spilled body fluids. Such as blood.

The man spoke into his comms system, still peering out the door. “Roger that,” he said then snicked it closed.

Shutting us in.

An icy chill slid down my spine. There was no way I could rush the man, and even if I could, what if they were all in on it? All working for one of Arran’s enemies?

What if he’d been biding his time until the one evening Arran was away? It all made sense, and I cursed myself for ever leaving the apartment.

The guard shifted, revealing a holster under his smart jacket. Oh God, this was where it all ended for me. Right in the place I’d started to feel safest.

But the man wasn’t advancing on me.

In fact, he appeared to be doing his job and guarding me. Warily, I peered around, making a second assessment of theroom. If someone else was here, that was his role. Bringing me to them.

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