Page 60 of Hunted Obsession

“Don’t leave me, Theron. I’m confused and scared. Please, just stay.”

He shakes his head once, his eyes searching mine, and then his lips twitch into a smirk. I wish I knew what he was thinking,but I can’t tell. I think about turning my back to him so I don’t have to watch him walk away from me.

He dips his chin again, his lips brushing mine before he lifts his head, and his eyes focus on mine. I’m not sure what he’s going to say or what he’s going to do, but when he speaks, it surprises me.

“I have to leave, but it won’t be for long,” he murmurs. “When I come back, some shit is going to change.”

“Is it?” I ask.

He hums, dipping his chin. “It’s going to change because you’re mine, Lucille.”

He takes a step backward, dresses, and heads toward the door. He stops with his hand on the door handle, looking over his shoulder at me before he clears his throat.

“Don’t leave this condo, not for a damn fucking thing,” Theron instructs.

Then he tugs the door open, and he is gone.

Gonegone.

I stand with my back against the glass window, unable to look anywhere else but at the closed door, and wonder what the hell is going on. What is actually fucking going on? I’ve just gone from being the stalker to the stalkee, and I don’t like anything about it.

But what I like less is the fact that there is a hit out on me. Someone is trying to kill me. All because I walked into an empty room? Or is it because I was digging into Asher and Emmie Grant? Honestly, I didn’t even find anything out, not enough to warrant death.

I’m beginning to think that Theron was right when he said I should have stopped a while ago because it was dangerous. Although I’m not one to admit something like that out loud, I am thinking it right now.

Grabbing my underwear and pants, I quickly tug them on, then start to take a look around my new digs. I’m not sure how long I’m going to be cooped up here, but if I am, I should make myself at home… right?

And that includes snooping everywhere.

Absolutely everywhere.

It doesn’t take me long to give the place a thorough snoop, mainly because there is almost nothing here. The kitchen is equipped with dishes, cookware, and silverware. The bathroom has some toothbrushes, toothpaste, and toiletry things. There are fluffy towels and sheets. But nothing personal.

I’m not sure exactly what I thought I was going to find, but this really is a safe house. Making my way into the kitchen, I tug open the fridge, which is the one place I haven’t checked out yet.

Empty.

Damn.

Walking back to the living room, I sink down on the sofa and grab the remote control from the coffee table. This condo is nicely furnished, ten times nicer than my own place. I can’t imagine any of these men did this. It’s almost like a furniture showroom.

Flicking on the television, I search for something to watch. Thankfully, there is a streaming service already logged in. It’s clearly a man’s vibe because it’s all action movies in the suggestions.

I smile, thinking about the fact that I’m going to screw the whole thing up. All of it. The first thing I look for is a rom-com movie. Turning that on, I let it play. I’m not really watching it, though, not because it’s bad, but because my mind has drifted off to the mess I’ve gotten myself into and the fact that I will probably lose my job.

No call, no show is not looked upon favorably, even if I work all by myself late at night. They still want someone there to dothe job. I’m not sure how long I stare into the distance, not seeing or hearing the television at all.

Until I jump at the realization that I’m surrounded by silence. The movie has ended. There is nothingness, just a black screen. Then I hear a noise somewhere in the house before footsteps, and a dark shadow appears from the hallway.

I should probably scream, but I don’t. Instead, I watch as Vaughn waltzes from the hallway like he didn’t just fucking appear out of nowhere and this is a normal incident. He stops at the side of the sofa, tipping his chin down to look at me.

“Yes?” I ask when he doesn’t speak.

“You hungry?” he asks.

His lips are turned up into a smirk. His gaze searches mine. “I could eat,” I confess.

He chuckles, then jerks his chin. “Let’s go to my place. I made chicken.”

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