Page 42 of Dangerous Obsession

“I’m going to need you to tell me where he is now. Where his family hides out.” The hand returns to my face and he grips my chin, forcing me to look back at him. My eyes focus on the corner of the ceiling and I see the camera pointed down at me. That’s how he knew I was awake. Fuck’s sake.

“I won’t tell you a thing.”

“You really want me to hurt you. Don’t you? Strip those tight-ass jeans of your body and make you beg me to stop fucking you…” His grip tightens and I shudder in fear.

“Sticks and stones…” I look directly into his eyes while I comfort myself in my own head. It’s okay, Willow, he’s coming. Leo will be here. He’s not leaving you.

“I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to convince yourself you can take it.” His hand shoots out and grabs my crotch, fingers pressing into my flesh as if he’d penetrate me had there been no jeans in the way. He grinds and grips me until I whimper in pain. “Think you can let a man ravage that tight pussy and still stay mentally intact? Not be traumatized?” He licks his teeth and chuckles again. “I ain’t seen a woman yet that makes it to the other side. They all end up tormented…. Just tell me what I need to know, Willow, and that doesn’t have to happen to you.”

I steel myself, whimpering again as his fingers dig into my body through my pants. Leo is coming, just hold on. “I said, fuck you,” I growl, and clench my jaw.

“Have it your way,” he says, letting go of my face. He stands and reaches for his belt buckle. I can see by the bulge in his pants that he is more than ready to back up his threats and it makes me curl into a ball. He’s really going to do it—rape me until I give up information about Leo. The best I can do is tell them where his father lives, but that place is like a fortress. They’ll never get in there.

His dick is in his hand and he’s stroking himself, and I almost cave in and give up what I know, but I heard noises. Shouting and things slamming around, then gunshots. The man glares at me as he tucks his hard cock back into his pants and back up to the table, picking up his gun.

“Stay here,” he snaps, but I have no intention of staying here. This can only be one thing—Leo coming to get me.

The man disappears out the door and I force myself to my feet. I don’t even care what the hell is going on outside this room; this is my chance to escape. I peek out the door and see nothing but a long hallway. To the left there is a lot of shouting and gunfire, and to the right is a dark corridor and a glowing exit sign. I choose to go right, running as quickly as I can toward the door. I nearly trip and fall, and with my hands tied like this, there is no way I’d be able to catch myself, but I don’t stop running until I’m out the door.

The sun is bright. I shield my eyes and blink a few times, looking around. This alley goes on for a while in both directions, but I don’t see anyone out here, so for a second I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m out of shape, and I’m not cut out for running like this. Not to mention I haven’t eaten or had anything to drink, and I feel weak. But I move forward, heading to my left. I can’t run; my ankles hurt from being tied up, but I don’t stop moving. The echo of gunfire behind me is enough to prod me like a sheep with a dog nipping at my heels.

Someone bursts out of a door in front of me and I notice it’s one of the men who was playing cards last night. He glares at me and races after me, and I try to run, but it’s too late. He grabs me and pins me against the wall with both hands on my neck. I pound on his chest with my hands, pushing on him as I gasp for breath.

“You stupid bitch.” He grunts and growls as he chokes me, shaking my whole body. My knees give out and I slowly slide down the wall as I feel my consciousness fading. This is it; I’m going to die right here in this alley, no chance to be a mother, no seeing my father again. My face throbs, and I feel tears in my eyes. I move my lips but no sound comes out. I want to scream for Leo, let him know where I am, but the only thing I can do is claw at this man’s chest in hopes that his blood will be under my fingernails and they will get his DNA to lock him up for my murder.

Then a single loud shot shakes me to my core. I feel moisture on my face and the man’s grip releases at the same time. I suck in a breath and scream out as soon as my lungs are filled, and the man drops to the ground next to me. His cold eyes stare up at me, the back of his skull missing. Blood gushes from his head. He’s dead, and I’m covered in his body fluid. I sob, covering my mouth. The scream was enough to alert them to where I’m at, but I don’t have to call them right to me. The only problem is I am trembling too badly to move.

Who would do this? Why would anyone save me?

I use my foot to push the man off of me and see his weapon tucked into his belt. I sob and whimper and force myself to stand on shaking legs. My head still spins from almost passing out, and I look around. There is no one here, not a single person who could have just shot this man and saved me. It doesn’t make sense. How did this happen?

Looking up and down the alley, I see more men down at the end of the narrow passage where I was headed. I can’t go that way. I have to go back the way I came. But I’m not going empty handed. I tug and tug until the gun comes loose from the man’s belt. It’s covered in blood too, everything is. My hands, my face, my shirt—I look like I’ve been shot. I can’t stay here.

Not knowing where the rest of the men are, I double back, staying along the wall so the men at the end of the alley don’t see me. The gun is heavy in my hand. I don't even know how to use it except to pull a trigger, so I just hope that is enough to intimidate someone who may come at me. Or maybe the guy had the thing ready and all I have to do is point and shoot. Either way, I’ve escaped death once today and I don’t see that happening again.

My arm quivers as I hold the gun out in front of me. The alley empties into the street which is void of traffic right now. Before I turn the corner I hear shouts and then I hear grunting and gasping. It’s Leo’s voice. He’s in trouble. I whip around the corner to see the man with the eagle tattoo over Leo. His hands are around his neck; he’s strangling him. Leo’s gun lays out of reach, and the man doesn’t seem to have one on him anymore.

“Let him go!” I shout, using both hands to point the gun at him.

The man keeps his hands on Leo’s neck and I move closer. He looks up at me and scoffs. “You don’t even know how to use that.”

Leo’s eyes grow wide. His hands are locked around the man’s wrists; his face is red. Gurgling sounds emitted from his throat tell me he is about to pass out, just like me a few minutes ago. Except that man could have just pulled his gun and shot me, and this man is defenseless. I’m the one with the gun.

“I said, let him go!”

The man looks back down at Leo and squeezes tighter. I watch his knuckles turn white and his glare intensify. Leo’s leg kicks and his head lolls back, eyes closed.

“You’re killing him!” I move faster, my chest heaving. “Stop, you're killing him.”

The man still doesn’t let go, and I can’t let him do it. I pull the trigger and he jerks, his shoulder flying backward and spinning his entire body around. He shouts in pain, but his hands are off Leo’s neck. I fire again, hitting him square in the chest and he falls backward and lands on the ground writhing. All the anger and pain my heart comes up out of my chest and down my arms. I walk closer still, not even look at Leo to see if he’s moving, and I fire again. Hitting his stomach, then again, his chest again. He jolts with each shot. I don’t know how many bullets are in this gun, but I don’t care.

I sob as I take a few more steps, still squeezing the trigger over and over. It clicks each time, but there is no boom. I can’t stop. I’m crying and squeezing the trigger and shaking my head. My cries are ghastly, unholy sounds. “You’re killing him!” I wail, pointing the gun down at the man, then I feel a hand on my arm and I jerk.

A strong man behind me grips me around the waist, sliding his hand down my bloody arm to the weapon. “Shhh, it’s okay,” I hear, and I don’t recognize the voice. But I can’t look away. I murdered him. He’s dead. His blood is pooling around his body. Four holes in his torso, put there by me, and I am hysterical as the soothing voice whispers in my ear again, “Shhh, come on. Give it to me.”

I relinquish the gun, but my arms stay stretched out as in shock I stare at what I’ve done.

“Get up, dumb fuck,” the man says, but I’m not sure what he’s saying. He steps away from me and I absently look at him. I recognize him but my mind is moving slowly as shock paralyzes me.

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