Page 58 of Enforcer's Obsession

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

I’d meant it when I said that I never shared any of these things with anyone, just as I’d meant it when I said that him being who and what he was, gave me a level of freedom that I hadn’t expected.

Molly had an inkling that some bad things had happened to me, but she didn’t try to dig. That was part of the reason why we had managed to stay friends. Because if she knew the truth, she would feel bad for me. And that was something I couldn’t tolerate.

Someone pitying me.

Nico didn’t strike me as one for pity, and at no point during that conversation had I seen any.

He had just listened, detached.

I’d found comfort in that, and at the same time disgust.

He was probably able to stay detached because there was nothing significant in my story to him. I knew men like him did or saw horrible things with regularity.

So what was one woman murdered by her husband?

Some kid terrified of her own shadow?

In fact, Nico and men like him probably reveled in that.

A realization I wished I’d had before I’d gone and run off at the mouth.

To make no mention of the other…

I had given myself to him.

The finality of that, the irrevocability of it left me speechless.

So did the lack of regret…

I always had believed that I had escaped my stepfather unscathed, that somehow my mother had protected me.

But I was wrong.

Because even now, after what I knew of Nico, I wanted him.

But it didn’t matter, I told myself.

That foolish, stupid, lovesick part of me could want whatever it wanted.

It was up to me, and my brain to take care of myself.

And that meant being smarter when it came to Nico.

It also meant getting the fuck out of here.

I wandered out of the bedroom and down to the living room, my mind too frazzled to watch television or read a book.

That happened sometimes, and it was part of the reason I love my job so much.

When I was with the dogs, they gave me a place to funnel all that energy, and they received it as love.

My thoughts could be racing, but even still, if I brushed the fur of a ratty dog, or trimmed their nails so that walking was more comfortable, it soothed them, just as it seemed to soothe me.

I felt panic rise again as I thought, and did my best to fight it back.

I couldn’t lose my job.

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