Page 22 of Ruthless Obsession
Pictures of Toby’s face are plastered all over the bulletin board. Colorful lines connect each photo to points on maps pinned beside them.
“Psycho set this up last night. Cool, huh?” Mavis says.
My eyes drift to the walls lined with all kinds of guns. The sight makes me uneasy.
“Why so many guns?” I ask.
“I’m a problem solver.”
“Oh, you get paid to make problems disappear. Damn. I didn’t know the profession paid this well.”
He shakes his head. “This house has been in my family for years. I remodeled it. I also oversee my family’s company. We’ll sit in on a board meeting later today.”
A rich boy playing biker? Is that what he is?
Doesn’t matter. My plan stays the same; watch, learn, wait, and escape when he least expects it.
He turns me toward a blank wooden wall, presses his hand against it, and it slides open. Ten surveillance monitors light up in front of us.
He steps behind me, lowering his voice near my ear. “Make yourself at home. You can roam the property later. Just know, if you try to escape, you won’t make it past the trees. Mush is out there in his doghouse.”
He points to one of the monitors. A sleek Doberman stares back at us from the screen.
“What the fuck, Mavis? You’d let the dog kill me?”
His nose glides down my neck. My body betrays me again. I’m soaked for this man, and it pisses me off. His hard dickpressed into my spine all night didn’t help. And now his hands on my hips have my pulse doing backflips.
He’s willing to kill you, Sophie.
“I’m not yours to keep,” I mutter.
His eyes flash. “Put you out of your misery? As you wish.”
He scoops me over his shoulder before I can argue.
“Wait, no!” I slap at his leather cut as he strides down the hallway and out the sliding doors.
“I fucking hate you!” I shout.
“You don’t,” he chuckles.
My heart hammers in my chest. He’s really taking me to the dog. The loud, sharp barking gets louder the closer we get.
“Mush, sit,” he commands as he sets me on my feet.
I’d appreciate the gorgeous, green backyard if I wasn’t about to become kibble.
“Mush, come.”
I freeze, knees wobbling. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Shake,” Mavis says.
I crack one eye open. “What?”
“Don’t show him fear. Shake his paw.”
The dog stares at me with unblinking eyes. I swallow and slowly reach forward. He places his paw in my hand.
