Page 33 of Dangerous Obsession

“This happened yesterday afternoon, just before rush hour. Witnesses say they believe the car was owned by a son of the Italian Don, though once declared only a myth in this city. Authorities will not confirm nor deny the presence of organized crime, nor will they comment on the speculation of this being inter-gang hostility.”

I lean forward on the couch as more images scroll across the screen accompanied by more talking. “Janet, the lead investigator on this case said that luckily no one was injured in this event, though many priceless books have been damaged. It’s believed to be a retaliatory move, though no one is clear what this retaliation is for.”

I’ve seen enough. I mute the TV and reach for my phone which lays on the end table. I know what the retaliation is for and I am upset that it’s come to this. They didn't have to come after my family’s business. This beef was between me and the man who tried to rape Willow. Now it’s become a whole-family thing and I’m sure my brother’s have had something to say about it.

When my phone boots up for the first time in weeks, I have to wait two whole minutes as notifications roll in. It uses all the processing power of my phone just to not crash itself while the messages, voice mails, and social media alerts go off. When it’s said and done there are hundreds, though the voicemails are what I’m most interested in. I hold my phone to my ear and listen to Rome, whose voicemail was the first one to be left.

“Leo, look, Dad is sick. He just wants peace. Come back and we’ll talk.” The line clicks dead and I delete the voicemail.

Matty’s call is next. “Leo, hey, come to Al's, we'll have a beer and chat. I’m not pissed you pulled the gun on me, but some shit is going down with this reporter. You need to hear about it.”

The voicemail starts to play over again, so I delete that one too. A reporter is the least of my worries right now. I skim the list, scrolling to a few days after we were locked in here and play a voicemail left by Dominic.

“It’s wise that you have your phone off. You should know they hired L’ombra to sniff you out. I got it on good authority from our man Jimmy that they’ve hired the assassin to take you out. Hunker down there until you hear from me.”

“Hmm,” I say out loud to myself. It appears Dominic has a heart after all, or maybe Dad is just protecting his assets. Maybe he thinks if they get me they’ll squeeze me and I’ll talk. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

For a second I sit and stew over that last voicemail. That was left weeks ago. There are at least thirty more voicemails I haven’t heard yet, three of them from Dominic. Sven hasn't called once, though there is a text from him I haven’t looked at yet. It appears my entire family has tried to reach out multiple times. They know the drill, though. Stay low—stay silent. Flying under the radar when you’re being hunted is the only way to stay safe in this game. If L’ombra is hunting me, then right here is the only place that’s safe. And that assassin has had weeks to do their job.

I play the next voicemail from Dominic and I’m actually surprised. “Leo, Dad wants to see you. You know he’s getting sicker by the day. They’re thinking of putting him on palliative care. If they do that then you may not get a chance to see him again. Call me.”

That one was left seven days ago, so I press play on the next one left by Dominic. “I told you to call me. It’s time to stop this game now. We need you with your head in it. Leave the girl at the safehouse and get back here. We know where you are. Don’t make us come get you. You know the enemy will follow us right to your door.”

The way he words that makes me feel like he’s planning to protect Willow, maybe even against Dad’s wishes, but I still don’t trust him. In this world people double cross each other all the time, especially when there is blood at stake. I watched Sven turn on our allies at the port in a rage because he wanted to oust the mole. We never told anyone he killed two men who were loyal, but he did. What would Dominic actually do to protect the family? I don’t even know now.

“Hey…” The steps creak and I hear Willow’s footsteps. I lock my phone and make sure it’s on silent before I lay it face down on the end table.

“Thought you were napping.”

“Couldn’t sleep. I just kept having bad dreams.” She shuffles over to the couch and sits on the far end. Her hair is messed up and her eyes have dark circles. She looks miserable. I feel partially to blame for that.

“I’m sorry you did.”

“Yeah…” Her eyes turn to the television where the report of the drive-by is playing again. They found bullet casings now, or that’s what the ticker tape at the bottom of the broadcast is saying. It appears this is pretty big news right now, or maybe there is some other thing that is bigger news that they don’t want people to know. So they’re covering it up by blasting us with the repeated broadcast of the same thing over and over.

“Is that?” she asks, turning to me with a furrowed brow.

“The family bookstore, yes. And that’s Dom speaking to the cops.” My brother’s form is unmistakable, though he stands with his back to the camera in the playback. He’s talking to a cop about the drive-by. When something this public happens, there is no keeping cops away. He’s probably furious with me now, and I’m surprised that he hasn’t called me to demand I come back given that this all took place yesterday sometime. Maybe he’s too busy dealing with fallout from it still.

“God, is this because of me?” She chews on her nail and I feel anger rise up. It’s not directed at her, but it sure comes out like it is.

“Don’t you ever fucking say that!” I lean forward and ram my hands through my hair. “Don’t say that,” I repeat, more calmly. It’s not her fault and going off on her won’t make it better. This is all my fault. She was right. Had I not meddled in her life, she’d have moved on, found a man she was in love with, and been safe right now. I did this to her. And now I have to get her out of it, even if she walks away when it’s over.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, and I can tell she’s afraid.

“Just look, Willow. Look at what’s happening. Okay? This is why you’re here. This safehouse is keeping you from being the one outlined in chalk.”

Her eyes fix on the screen as the images scroll past again, and when the broadcast changes to some political nonsense, I reach for the remote and shut it off. I don’t think she understands what I’m trying to keep her from.

“I get it, okay? I see that this is a dangerous world. I appreciate that you saved me that night. I’m sorry that I haven’t said thank you properly. I am grateful.” She unfurls her legs and picks at her fingernails. “Your world seems like it’s always this dangerous though, and what you’re asking me to do is to live in this constant state of fear and running.”

“What?” I toss the remote onto the table and stand. “No, Dominic and his wife have a nice home. They’re happy. Sven, and Allie, you see how they live… They’re happy. Willow, that’s all I want for us.”

“You don’t get it, do you? You think I can be happy being a prisoner inside a fortress surrounded by men with guns and thick walls that stop bullets. What if I want to be me? I want to paint and have a studio and call my dad on father’s day…? Your family thinks I am toxic. They want me dead.” She gestures at her chest and her words sting.

“I’ll work on them.”

“Leo, listen to yourself. Did Dom have to work on your family to accept his wife? Hmm? Did Sven have to fight for Allie?”

---