Page 8 of Dangerous Obsession

“Oh for fuck’s sake. For real? Dad sacrificed my entire future with Willow to save his ass from prison?” I rake a hand through my hair and shake my head. Of all the selfish things—God I hate my family sometimes. “Look, I’m not backing off. If you can’t help me save her, and protect me from our sworn enemy, then stay the fuck out of my life.”

I yank the door open and storm down the hallway. Dominic has no heart at all. He never has. He got his wife by kidnapping her and forcing her to respect him until she developed such bad Stockholm syndrome she told him she loves him. I can’t even understand women these days. I barge out to my car and climb in. I’m so frustrated by what’s happening, I’d be happy if I never speak to my brothers again. At least not until they understand me and what I want.

Pulling out into traffic I notice a black sedan a few car lengths back. It looks similar to the one I saw in the alley the other night, but I try not to let my imagination run away with me. I turn toward Broadway. There are a host of pharmacies on the strip and I need to pick up a few essentials for the safehouse, not to mention a few things to help Willow change her appearance. Neither one of us can afford to walk around looking like ourselves right now. We have to lay low until the heat dies down a little, and that means we’re in it for the long haul.

When I turn the corner, I notice the car follows, so I decide to take a little drive instead of stopping at the drugstore. Three more turns and over a mile out of my way, and that damn sedan is still following me. It has to be the Italians. I speed up and try to weave in and out of traffic to take evasive measures, but even when I run a red light and push my accelerator to the floor, they take the risk of bombing the intersection and nearly cause an accident. They are gaining on me, and I can’t risk causing a commotion, so I duck down an alley and hope they don’t see where I turn.

The car zips past the alley, and I back out and turn the opposite direction. I take a few deep breaths, frustrated it’s come to this. I will have to stay in the safehouse for a few days now to make sure they’re not able to trace me back there. I know Willow isn’t their primary target; I am. But they won’t let her live either, especially when they know what she means to me, and I know they will find that out too. I haven’t been exactly secretive about how I watch over her.

I find a parking spot and put a few quarters into the meter, then jog the few blocks to the pharmacy. If they circle around and see me walking, I know it will be a drive-by and I will be caught in the direct line of fire. Luckily, there is no sign of them. I peruse the aisle, picking up a few groceries, some hair dye, a pair of scissors, and some pain killers. At the register I see toothpaste and toothbrushes, so as an impulse buy, I toss a few on the counter.

“Going into hiding?” the young teen jokes. His curly hair hangs in his face and he wears glasses too large for his face. I don’t laugh at his stupid joke because life is too real to make a mockery of what my situation is. I just glare at him and pull my debit card out of my wallet. “Sheesh, tough crowd. That will be forty-two ninety-eight.”

He takes my card and swipes it. The register makes a few sounds and he hands the card back to me. I take it and the sack of things I purchased, and turn toward the door, but I see the sedan roll past slowly, along with a man walking the street. I know him. He’s one of the men who were shooting at me that night.

“Fuck,” I grumble, and turn my back quickly. I hope they don’t recognize me by the back of my head, and I wait a second. There is a pregnant mother in line, two folks back from the counter.

“Uh, excuse me, sir. Can you move now?” the teen says, gesturing with his hand. I back up and allow the next customer to move up to the counter, then glance over my shoulder. I need to get out of here, draw them away if necessary. There is no need for innocent people to be caught in this mess.

Creeping toward the door, I try to keep myself out of sight on the street until the last second. I peek out and see the man’s back is to me, and I rush the opposite direction. There is no going back for my car now. They have to have seen it now; it’s probably why that guy is on foot searching. I have to lift a car.

I turn quickly down the first side street and make sure no one is around, then put my elbow into the passenger window of an old Chevy sedan. It’s rusted out and filthy inside, but it’s not some fancy new tech. I can hotwire this in a few seconds with just my pocket knife. I just have to do it before they see me, or this car will be trashed, because I know it won’t perform like my car. And I’ll have no choice but to run.

6

WILLOW

There is nothing interesting to watch on TV; this safehouse has the crappiest cable package I’ve ever seen. This time of day is just news and soap operas and I have too many interesting things in my life to ever be interested in such base entertainment. I’m an artist, a traveler. Boring TV dramas of wealthy people who can’t keep it in their pants and lie to everyone don’t appeal to me. I toss the remote and glance at the dresser where the proof of who Leo really is is stashed, then look away quickly, as if just looking at it will kill me.

Leo and his brothers are dangerous, his father too. When Alexsi paid me that money and handed me a new identity with the threat of killing me and my father if I didn’t take it and run, I had no idea who he really was. I just took him seriously because the size of the weapon pointed at my chest was terrifying. And the only time I tried to get back into contact with my father a man was there to stop me with the same threat.

I don’t understand why Leo is after me now? Why now? Why twelve years later when I had a new life and I was doing fine. I’m thankful he protected me from that Italian guy but he could have just dropped me off at any police station and let me go. Why are he and his father trying so hard to keep me away from my father?

Frustrated that I’m still locked up here with nothing to eat or drink, I curl up in a ball on the couch and close my eyes. Sleep is the only escape from this nightmare I’m living. My phone is dead, so even if I wanted to just scroll my socials, I can’t. My stomach hurts. I think I’m dehydrated and I just want to go home.

When I hear keys jingle I sit up immediately. My eyes are a little tired but my body is wide awake the instant the door opens. Leo is back, and I hope he brought food with him. I turn to watch as he struggles in the door with a few bags of groceries and locks the door behind himself. The chain around his neck is just long enough to reach the lock without having to take it off. For some reason that detail irritates me more than it should. When I see the label for a can of soup through the translucent bag, I rush over to him and help him with the things.

“You brought food?” I ask, unburdening him of the bags. I carry them to the counter along the far wall near the fridge and set them down.

“A little. We’ll have to do a grocery delivery service for a few days if we’re going to eat better.” Leo hovers behind me while I pull items from the bags. There is barely anything worth eating, but I’m so hungry I’d eat liver and onions. “I already placed an order for stuff to be delivered tomorrow morning.”

“You didn’t get any water?” I rifle through the second bag, but the only thing in it is a box of hair dye, some tooth care items, and a pair of scissors. I spin around and scowl at him. “I’m literally dying of thirst.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Just get a cup and fill it at the tap.” His callous tone makes me glad he left me years ago. Who would want to be married to that attitude?

“The water is brown.” I turn back to the few items on the counter and see that he managed to purchase painkillers. “At least I’ll have pain relief from the headache I’ll have due to dehydration.” I pick up a pack of cold meat and open the fridge and the stench of stale air wafts out. It smells like this thing hasn’t been opened in years, but it’s cold. I put the cold meat, along with a pack of cheese slices into the fridge and shut it, then eye the two beers. They’re cold and wet, but I know better than to drink alcohol when I have no clean water. It will only dehydrate me twice as fast.

“So what do I do then?”

“Drink your own piss; I don’t care.” Leo picks up the bag of toiletry items and pulls out the hair dye. “We have a bit of work to make this look natural, but it’ll have to do. Can’t afford a salon.” He flips the box over and reads the back, leaning against the counter top with the sink behind him.

The thought of drinking that brown water disgusts me. Does he actually plan on drinking it himself? Probably not. He probably had his fill of water while he was out and doesn’t even care if I die. My stomach churns as I open the cupboard and find only dust-covered glasses. I can’t even have a drink without doing dishes.

“This is so gross. What sort of safe house is this? People with the amount of money your father has should have nicer things.” My comment draws a glare from him and he lowers the box and looks at me.

“What do you mean?”

I swallow hard, eyes wide. I was sworn to secrecy. I am not allowed to tell Leo about the payoff or the danger his father put me in. All this time I wondered if he knew about it, but his excuse for sending me away was that I would be safer, that his father didn’t like me. Boy did I learn that the hard way. And given what I know about his family now, I know I have been safer. Bratva life doesn’t even rank on the scale of danger I’ve encountered in my life and I’d like to keep it that way.

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