Page 20 of Twisted Obsession

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know the answer.

“Fuck! He’s attempting to overthrow you,” I breathe, unable to comprehend the enormity of what I’m now convinced is the truth. “Not just how Kaiden implied, but by trying to get the Irish to take you out. Why the hell would your father allow that?”

Mika’s lips thin, and I know there’s a story there. I also know I won’t get to hear it, but that’s a puzzle for another day.

“Play Vito at his own game,” I tell my cousin, looking him straight in the eye, even though it’s not my place to make such a suggestion. “Contact the Maguires. They don’t need to know it’s not the Viper they’re dealing with.”

I stand again, leaving Mika to contemplate what I’ve said. “Meanwhile, I’m going to start bunking in with Roisin. If they come for her, they’ll have to go through me. I’d appreciate it if I didn’t die for nothing, cousin,” I finish, reminding him that whatever the hierarchy, we’re still family.

I have his back. I need to know Mika has mine.

I look back at him when I reach the door, and he gives me a curt nod.

We both know the decision just made has consequences. I just hope we aren’t the ones who pay them.

Chapter

Ten

ROISIN

As soon as Dominic leaves, I start feeling paranoid. Have I been playing the television too loud? Are there footsteps in the corridor? Is the smell of the meal Dominic brought me going to permeate the room?

The thought of that alone has me hurrying to eat it, just in case. Then I dart into the bathroom and wash everything, using a hand towel to dry it all before stashing the tray, plate, and cutlery in the cupboard under the sink before using a room spray I find there to disguise any scent of food.

After that, I can’t stop myself. I make the bed, push the few clothes I have underneath the dresser, rather than inside, and fold the towels—even the damp one—shelving them like they were when the room was empty and awaiting a new employee.

Realizing the shower and sink are wet and obviously used, I dig around in the under-sink cupboard again, until I find a squeegee and one of those sponge squares that sucks up water.

When everything around me is pristine and sterile, I look around for hiding places. Behind the floor-length curtains? Too risky. The wardrobe? Too obvious. Surely, that’s the first place anyone would check. Behind the bathroom door? I decide that’s a possibility.

I’m still wondering how much more than a cursory glance Vito’s goons would give a seemingly empty room when I hear voices in the hallway.

At first, I think my paranoia is playing tricks on me, but then I hear the unmistakable sound of keys jangling and a door being opened.

“This one’s clear,” a voice claims as the sounds get closer. My heart pounds in my chest as I realize the voices are moving methodically down the hall, checking each room. I have seconds to decide what to do. The bathroom door suddenly seems like a terrible hiding spot—too exposed if they do a thorough search.

In a moment of desperate inspiration, I drop to the floor and wriggle under the bed. It's a tight fit, but I manage to squeeze myself in, pressing my body flat against the carpet, as close to the far wall as I can possibly get. Dust tickles my nose, and I fight the urge to sneeze.

The voices are right outside the door now. I hold my breath as I hear the key turn in the lock. The door swings open with a creak.

"Looks empty," a gruff voice says.

"Check it anyway," another voice orders. "Boss says to be thorough."

Heavy footsteps enter the room. I can see two pairs of polished black shoes from my vantage point under the bed. They move around, opening drawers and the wardrobe doors.

"Bathroom's clear," one of them calls out after a moment.

I'm trembling now, praying they won't think to look under the bed. The feet come closer and pause right next to me.

My heart nearly stops as one of the men kneels down. I can see his hand gripping the edge of the bed frame, and I'm certain he's about to lift the bed skirt and find me. But then his partner calls out from across the room.

"Hey, come look at this."

The hand withdraws, and the feet move away. I hear them muttering to each other but can't make out the words. There's a rustling sound, like paper being handled.

"Could be nothing," one of them says.

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