Page 66 of Obsession

“What?” I ask, pulling the binoculars back to my eyes right as Judge Langston brings his coffee to his lips for another sip.

“What a lovely greeting,” John muses dryly, not a drop of humor lacing his tone. “Did you draw up that paperwork I asked for?”

A knot twists in my stomach. I did. But I was holding on to it, hoping to avoid becoming a part of whatever game John is playing.

I pull back the binoculars. “Yes.”

“I need you to bring it to the club. Now.”

“I’ll have Fede bring it over,” I say, keeping my eyes on the judge as he flips to the next page of his paper. How long is this man going to sit here, anyway? My plan is to get him in transit between his home and his office, but I can’t do that until he leaves his damn home.

“No. I wantyouto bring it.”

“I’m busy,” I tell John.

“Then get un-busy.”

I sigh. Conversations with John seem pointless. “I’m trying to get your beloved cousin out of jail. Would you like me to do that or come to the club?”

John chuckles, a deep sound that feels not quite human. “I’d like you to do both, Adrian. Are you having trouble with task management?”

Dropping the binoculars, I rest my forehead in my palm. This guy’s a psychopath, and if I keep pushing, he very well might kill me.

“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “I need to stop by the office and grab it, and then I’ll be there.”

“Good boy,” John says, making my skin crawl before he hangs up the phone.

“Watch the judge,” I tell Fede, handing over the binoculars. “I have to go.” Exiting the car, I walk the block to where I parked mine, Fede’s words still echoing in my head.

She’s a liability.

It takesme twenty-five minutes to get from Langston’s house to my office and another fifteen to get to Saints and Sinners. The strip club looks dreary in the light of day, a painted black brick exterior with neon lights that boast the club’s name turned off.

John is outside, leaning on the side of a sleek black Porsche. Behind him, I recognize Roman, a fixer who works for Sam. The same one who was at my house with Madi the night John and his goons kidnapped me. Speaking of goons, the set of them is also here. Tommy and Christopher, the two assholes who beat the shit out of me while I was tied to a chair.

What a lovely reunion.

“Did you bring ’em?” John asks as I exit my car.

I wave the manila envelope with the papers in question. John extends his hand, taking the envelope from me and unsealing it. He leafs through the documents, checking that I’m not fucking him over. A good call on his part, because I did consider handing him a stack of blank papers.

“The club is currently owned by Rocco Santorre, that’s who Damien gave it to after Marcus’s…disappearance.” John chuckles at my wording, both of us knowing Marcus didn’t just up and disappear. “You’ll need his signature-” I reach forward, flipping to the correct page. “Here.” I point to the signature line. “And I’ll need yours as well.”

“And then everything will be legal.” John looks up from the papers, an unnerving smile on his face.

“I’ll have to file the paperwork, but yes. The club will legally be yours.”

“Great.” John hands the stack of papers back to me. “Now, let’s go get that signature.”

That tricky little organ in my chest begins to beat faster despite me trying to calm it. “Me?” I ask, then gesture to the club. “I got the paperwork, this is your domain.”

“Nah.” John shakes his head. “You’re gonna go in there and have Rocco sign it.”

“And what are you going to do?” I ask.

“Make sure he signs it.” I don’t like the wicked grin that’s spread on John’s cheeks right now. It promises violence that I don’t want to be a part of. But still, I follow him and the goons into the club.

There’s a guard out front. He lifts his hand, probably to deny entrance, but he doesn’t get a chance to speak before Tommy points his gun and shoots. The man falls to the ground and Christopher drags his body inside. The silencer on the end of Tommy’s barrel muffles the gunshot, and nobody flinches as we all walk over the body and into the club.

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