Page 97 of Brutal Obsession

His fingers disappear, allowing me to release the breath I’ve been holding.

The man saunters around in front of me. In the dimness of the window’s dying light, I see him. An expensive, three-piece suit and Italian leather shoes aren’t enough to distract from the shiny, round, owl-like eyes of a murderous predator and a pensive, pouting mouth. He wears a strong, musky cologne that cuts through the aroma of old wood and fresh pine.

This man is no foot soldier. Not an enforcer either.

No clue what the hell he is, but a maniac would be my first guess.

“My name is Enzo De Luca.” He draws a fat cigar from his vest pocket. “I expect you’ve heard of me.”

Terror melts my spine into a gelatinous-like substance.

Like a faraway dream, I remember what Cian told me. The De Luca Mafia is after Finn over some old beef and being his fiancée for a few months somehow entangled me in all of it. And now, even though we’re no longer engaged, I’m still a target.

Hoarse and run through with fear, my voice is unfamiliar to my ear. “You’ve got the wrong person.” It’s the weakest bluff I’ve ever made, but it’s all I have.

“Do I?” Enzo lights his cigar. “I’m looking for Harper Brennan.”

I try not to react, but my name in this man’s mouthdestroysme. I already regret asking, but my mouth has a mind of its own. “Why?”

“Until recently, she was the fiancée of a person of interest.” Enzo shrugs a little, exhaling a train of acrid cigar smoke. I cough as the cloud floats my way. “But I heard Harper went missing, and she got replaced as a bride. That makes her fair game.”

Terror wires my jaw shut.

Cian was wrong. I don’t think it’s leverage this man’s after.

A lewd grin spreads Enzo’s face wide, showing off a killer’s teeth. “I’ve been in the market for a second wife, so it’s perfect timing. Don’t you agree?”

Shit,shit, freakingshit.

Enzo waves a hand, giving a signal to someone I can’t see, and the door to this shack squeals open yet again. I’m quivering, fear shuddering through every molecule of my being.

“My first wassucha disappointment.”

Ignoring Enzo, I crane my head left and right, trying to glimpse what’s going on behind my back. I hear metal clanging and wheels squeaking closer.

“You’re not going to ask mewhythis time?” Enzo simpers, smug.

Panic rises through me like flood water.

A horrified noise rips out of me when Enzo’s rough fingertips suddenly take hold of my chin, yanking my face toward him.

“Give me your attention when I ask for it.” His abrasive, knife-like voice grates my skin, his repulsive scent nauseating me to the point of gagging.

“What do you want from me?”

“My engagement present.” His wicked face petrifies me so much that I don’t feel the shift in the air until a sharp, burning prick of pain slices through my thigh.

A syringe juts out of my right leg. The person who stuck me stands over my shoulder next to a stretcher.

“No—” My desperate protest dies beneath the power of the chemicals they just injected in me. Consciousness slipping sideways, I lose myself under the watch of Enzo’s triumphant, ravenous eye.

He and his accomplice maneuver my limp body onto the stretcher while I sink, helplessly disconnected from my body.

For the second time in my life, I’ve been torn away from my friends and family.

Only this time, no gorgeous enforcer with a secretly sweet heart will come take me home.

This time, I know I’ll never see any of them again.

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