Page 19 of Obsessed

Angie

After what seemslike hours alone in the desert, my resolve to toughen up crumbles like a dry cookie. I'm certain I haven't been wandering the sand and dust for longer than forty or fifty minutes, but it feels like an eternity in cactus and prickly bush hell. I'm so numb from the cold my teeth clack together wildly, creating a drumbeat in my aching head. What a silly idiot I was thinking that Freestone had a decent, humane side to him. The parties, the gifts for the women who are living on the streets, the nice extravagant living quarters for the women who work in the club, it was all just sugar coating on a bitter, poisonous center. Now he has shown who he truly is, and at the same time, it's been a fresh slap in my face. His intense lust, the obsession, it was all an act. I am as disposable to him as an empty cup you throw out the window on a road trip. I'm more angry at myself for giving a damn and feeling hurt by the betrayal than I am about getting myself in the situation in the firstplace.

I try not to think about Blake. If he suffered the same fate, then it was totally my fault. I have to push that anguishing reality out of myhead.

For the third time during my aimless wandering through the parched landscape I hear a noise that I'm certain cannot just be a mouse or lizard. And for the third time, I convince myself to ignore it. It won't help me to start worrying about creatures with fangs and claws following me around in the dark just waiting for me to collapse insurrender.

Somehow, I'd brilliantly decided to travel parallel with the mountains in the distance mostly to keep me from going in circles, but when I stumble over the same empty soda bottle that I tripped over five hundred yards back, I realize my planfailed.

My feeling of hopeless despair has almost surpassed the physical misery I'm suffering from withdrawals and the frigid cold. Three wishes. I start a round of mind games to keep myself from full blown panic. What would I wish for right now? A warm parka coat. A head and body clear of drugs. And a fucking compass. Who am I kidding? I wouldn't know how to use it if I had one. I couldn't even keep parallel with a stationery mountainrange.

The tiny ants have started their marching parade up the right leg of my jeans. I'm beyond miserable so I allow myself a good scratch. I yank up the jeans and rub my skin hard only to discover it's not invisible ants. It's the real thing, the big red biting kind. I glance down to discover that my sandal is sitting on the top of an anthill. The critters are swarming my feet and my legs inanger.

"Shit! Fuck! Shit!" There is no water to plunge into so my only course of action is to run and jump and shake the little monsters loose. The prickly feeling on my skin turns to a burning sensation. Tears sting my eyes as the cold biting night air chills my face andnose.

I continue to run blindly, now fueled more by anger and the fear of imminent death than the painful ant bites. My foot falls forward and lands in a deep natural rut in the dry earth. I fly forward and land hard on my hands and knees. Sharp plant debris skewers my palms and knees. The horrifying memory of the near rape suddenly overwhelms me. The panic attack I'd worked so hard to stay ahead of catches up and consumes me. Catching my breath is impossible and tiny dots dance in my vision. I push to my feet but the entire landscape swirls around me. I drop back to my sore knees and curl myself into a small, shivering ball. I close my eyes to concentrate on slowing my breath, filling my lungs, but each attempt falls short and I'm sure I'll never get enough oxygenagain.

A sound behind me scares the breath right into me with a shuddering gasp. But I hold it deep in my lungs, not wanting to let it go, sure the sound of my exhale will alert whatever creature is stalking me. Not that it would be hard for any seasoned desert predator to find me since I'm out in the open. I'm frozen solid to the spot. It dawns on me that I might very well be sitting on the place on earth where I will take my last breath. I briefly conjure up a scenario where the department lays a tiny bronze plaque to mark the spot and preserve the memory of Detective Angie Tennyson. Maybe Maddox and his new perfectly perfect wife will stop by to bring flowers and pay respects. I'm sure Tiffany is a pink carnation type. She just seems like it. This new game of matching people to flower preferences takes my mind off my certain demise for a second until the desert landscape falls deadly quiet. I don't need to be a nature expert to conclude that a big, treacherous flesh eating creature is out on the hunt, and all the other animals have run for their burrows androcks.

I have no burrow, only my own body that I have curled around me like an armadillo. But my skin and mostly fleshless bones will hardly afford me the protection of a plated shell. Do I get up and run, hoping whatever it is will not give chase? Or do I play dead, hoping the predator prefers live prey tocarrion?

Dizziness, nausea and the deep dark feeling of impending death sink down on me like a heavy weight. I find myself wishing for a release from the nightmare, something only a quick death will bring. A shuffling sound behind me makes me pull my arms in tighter. My limbs are nearly numb from lack ofmovement.

A large shadow falls over me. I shut my eyes and wait for theend.

"Come, my desert mouse, let's get youhome."

I try to reason whether or not mirages can come in the form of sound. I'm desperate and sure death is just moments away yet I'm imaging the deep, seductive and confident tone I've grown to love and to loathe during the last fewmonths.

I feel movement next to me but haven't pulled myself from my makeshift shell yet. Warm breath brushes against my skin, contrasting boldly with the cold night air. "You've had enough and so haveI."

I uncurl my shoulders and loosen my arms. My hands and face tingle with numbness as I turn my head toward him. He's crouched down next to me. There's just enough concern in his blue eyes to make me almost believe he might have been worried about me. But I know that's not the case. I should lash out, strike him, scream at him. Instead, I tumble intosobs.

He pushes up to standing and lowers his hand for me to take. I push it away but regret my decision when I try to follow and push to my feet. My knees are wet noodles. I sway forward, landing directly against his hard, unforgiving chest. Instantly, the scent and warmth of him melts my anger. My chest is heavy withrelief.

I balance against him as he pulls off his big warm coat and wraps it around me. The gesture and the instant relief of warmth produce another round of tears. He swipes them brusquely away with histhumb.

The blood is circulating through my limbs again. The warm coat has helped clear my head. I'm able to stand on myown.

"You left me out here to die." My voice is hoarse from thecold.

Kane shakes his head. "Never." He pulls his phone out of his pocket. "Come getus."

I'm feeling stronger each passing second, mostly from knowing that I'm no longer in danger of being eaten by something with ugly fangs and sharp claws but also because I'm tucked in a warm coat that oozes his bodyheat.

I move my arm in a circle. "I could have been eaten alive. In fact, I was nearly eaten to the bone by piranha style redants."

"Yes. Shit, fuck, shit," he mimics. "Don't think I've ever seen anyone rid themselves of ants byrunning."

"You were watching? You were the big, menacing predator stalking me in theshadows?"

He takes my hand. "Apparently my stalking skills aren't as good as I imagined. Yes, that was me watching you walk in bigcircles."

Headlights temporarily blind me as the black van travels toward us, mowing down low, bristly shrubs in its path. I pull my hand from his grasp, nowhere near ready to forgivehim.

I pull the large coat tighter around me. "So you're not sending meaway?"

He turns to look at me as the vehicle makes its way to us. The headlights illuminate his features, the serious set of his mouth as he gazes at me. "Do you want to leaveme?"

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