Page 29 of Ruthless Obsession
Perfect time to run.
I peel back the sheet, swing my legs over the edge of the bed, and head to the closet before moving into the bathroom. I need to be both quick and careful to leave his property before he comes back. Once I’ve packed only the things I brought with me into my messenger bag, I sling it over my shoulder to rest at my hip. I pull on a hoodie to conceal the bag as much as possible and quietly make my way down the steps in my sneakers. Darkness consumes the living room. I slip down the hall next to the stairs. My heart pounds as I approach his office. Last night, the wall of surveillance cameras was exposed; I hope it still is. Heart pounding, I glance left in his office. The cameras are hidden. Damn.
I didn’t have a chance to check the garage to see if his bike is there. It's eerily quiet, as if you could hear a pin drop. I don’t think he’s back yet. I carefully make my way through the dimly lit dining room to the patio door that stretches across the back of the house. I slide it open, slip outside, and close it behind me. With caution, I approach Mushes' doghouse.
“Hey boy,” I whisper.
He whines softly, licking my hand. I hook his leash and lead him toward the side of the house. I plan to sneak around the perimeter, praying that the walk-through gate at the front opens from the inside. If not, I’ll have to break into the house and steal keys to one of his cars.
“Mush, you’re a good boy,” I murmur, scratching behind his ears. He could protect me if anyone came for us. I’d return him later. I just needed him for a little while.
A pang hits my chest. I didn’t want to leave Mavis. Not really. But I couldn’t stay either. That would be Stockholm syndrome. Falling in love with my captor. No fucking way. He’d find someone else—maybe that thirsty chick from the clubhouse who looked desperate for his attention. She had enough fight in her.
The gate is almost in sight when I round the corner and slam into a hard muscled chest.
I stumble back, heart in my throat.
Mavis leans against the house, one ankle crossed over the other. His white RBMC shirt stretches across his chest, contrasting with his gray jersey shorts. One hand grips a Glock casually. His other palm rests on top of it.
“Good morning, doll. Going somewhere?”
Fuck.
“We’re standing at the edge of your property, and you’re just holding a gun like it’s nothing?” I mutter, chest heaving.
He smirks. “Scream if you want. My cousin, the Prez of our MC, lives next door. And Viper our VP lives in the cul-de-sac too.”
I swallow hard. “Mavis…” Terror climbs up my spine.
His smile vanishes. “Stealing my dog, huh, baby?”
“Stop with all the terms of endearment,” I order.
He leans in, eyes dark. “You’re in no position to tell me what to do.”
His scent hits me. That damn cologne. My knees go weak.
“You weren’t curious about the closed door in the wine cellar?” he asks.
“Yes, I was,” I whisper.
“You want to be a nasty, stinky little captive?” he growls. “I can tie you up and keep you in my torture chamber.”
I step back. Mush doesn’t budge. He sits, waiting for his command like a good soldier.
The leash slips from my fingers.
“You’re still fighting it. But I know you want me.”
“I don’t want you,” I snap, voice cracking.
He grabs me, lifts me like I weigh nothing. My legs wrap around his waist. “We could’ve been good together.”
Then he kisses me—hard, demanding, fucking desperate. I melt into him, gripping his hair, kissing him back until I gasp for air.
“I can’t fall for you,” I whisper.
He doesn’t respond. Just carries me inside.
