Page 39 of Obsession

It’s seconds, not even a full minute, before they have him in the back of a blacked-out car and then he’s gone. Nothing but tire skids on asphalt.

“Jesus,” I hiss, my hands digging into my purse for my cellphone. It clatters to the ground, and when I bend to grab it, I feel the tears blurring my eyes.

Someone just kidnapped Adrian.

Someone just kidnappedmy husband.

TWENTY

Adrian

There’s a bright light shining in my eyes. It’s blinding as I attempt to blink away the haze filling my brain.

What the fuck happened?

Gathering my senses, I try to take in my surroundings. I’m in a warehouse, I think. The air is warm, thick, and smells of must. There are two guards, each of them armed with a heavy-duty flashlight and a gun. Only the former is pointed at me, a fact I’m thankful for.

There are zip ties securing my ankles to the metal chair and my wrists together. The skin on my wrist stings from the tightness of my bindings.

Not exactly my type of honeymoon bondage.

I flex my jaw, working out the kink that settled there after I was shoved into the back seat of a black SUV. That’s the last thing I remember. “Was the kidnapping necessary?” I ask my captors.

“Shut up,” the one on the right demands, his booted foot reaching out to kick my calf hard.

“Cazzo,” I hiss.

“He’s a lawyer.” I recognize John Vitale’s even-toned voice even before he walks out between the two enforcers. “He can’t shut up. Talking is the only thing he’s good at.” There’s a screech as he drags another metal chair over the concrete floor. “Isn’t that right, Adrian?”

Madi’s cousin sits in front of me, dressed in an Armani suit, looking like he’s ready for a business meeting. He watches me, his eyebrow lifted as he waits for me to answer his question. John Vitale, the craziest of all the Costello grandkids. Well, Marcus wasn’t levelheaded, by any means, but something about John frightens me a bit more. He’s typically the quietest, and in my experience, that’s never a good sign.

“Where’s Madi?”

John’s head tilts as he looks at me, taking in the question. “She’s home. Safe.”

“If you hurt her-”

“I would never hurt my cousin,” John cuts me off. His head tilts to the side as he ponders my reaction. “You actually care about her?” He seems surprised, and I realize I gave something away.

“If you wanted to talk, John, you could have just texted.” I try to change the subject, sounding carefree, unbothered by the fact that I’ve just been kidnapped and strapped to a chair in front of a fucking psycho killer.

Of all the Costellos to get picked up by, John seems like the worst choice. His claim to fame in the family is his psychopathic tendencies. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, I get that. But John wasn’t the kind of man who killed because he had to. He likes it. A little too much, in my opinion.

On a normal day, I don’t mind his hobby. Unlike most men, he was good at the cleanup. Which meant my skill set wasn’t needed.

But today? I have a feeling him being good at his job isn’t going to work in my favor.

The corner of his mouth ticks up, like he’s just the slightest bit amused by me. “I could have. But then”—he leans him, resting his elbows on the tops of his knees—“you wouldn’t have the impact of getting my full message.” He smiles, and something about it puts me even more on edge. It’s a soulless smile, completely void of any empathy.

I swallow the lump building in my throat. “And that message is?”

“We have a job for you,” he tells me. “Consider it awelcome to the familygift.”

“Well…” I try to smile, my jaw aching as it lifts. “Who should I send the thank-you card to?”

John chuckles, flashing a pearly white smile. “That’s the spirit. Tomorrow, after you wake up and kiss your new wife good morning, you’re going to get dressed up in one of your ugly suits and march your ass down to the courthouse and fill out whatever paperwork, file whatever petitions you need in order to join Sam Costello’s defense team.”

Sam Costello?

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