Page 41 of Their Stolen Obsession
Several times, he raked his hands through his hair, and I knew his anxiety had set in once he got past the anger. The unknown was a silent killer. A tormenting fate that haunted every one of these assholes, and they’d experience that terrible fate because I knew who those men were. They were obsessive, possessive, and damn lethal.
Sin and Saint wanted me back, but I’d keep my mouth shut with the truth. No fucking way would I ever help a Pitrone. The Mafia family had made their graves, and they’d get to sleep in them soon enough. Forever.
Evil had taken over me. I too thirsted for revenge, and I had a shift inside of me. The darkness had set in. Sin and Saint had taken each piece of me and molded me to them—a fixation within the dark turning into a love story I never saw coming. I wanted their affection more than anything, along with whatever fucked-up happy ending fate had in store for me.
“I waited. I heard the shots.” Stammering came from the front.
“Everything happened quick—”
“Fuck!” the driver interrupted. His hands hit off the steering wheel and caused me to jump. “Joe is dead, man.”
A hint of sorrow hung in his voice. The care he held for his fallen buddy was apparent. He glanced over at his dead friend, distress on his face, and I bet he wondered if he was next. If he’d die the same way Joe did.
Nah.His death would probably be ten times worse. Joe would grab a seat for him in the devil’s playground and wait for his buddy to come.
“What the hell should we tell Preston?”
A moment of silence. The boneheads needed sixty seconds to formulate a stupid plan that was sure to go up in smoke as soon as Sin and Saint got their hands on them.
I smirked. A brief grin, of course. I needed to lie low, keep the heat off me while I could. At least until I was somewhere safe.
“We tell ’em someone got the drop on us.” The driver broke the quietness. “But he’s going to want to know who.”
The guy beside me cussed.
Suddenly, the car swerved to avoid a cat that had run out into the street and veered to the right. Off the road and onto the dirt shoulder. The animal took off,narrowly escaping the tires, and ran for its life into the brush on the other side.
The asphalt gripped the tread as the car got back on the road, and the tires squealed. The drumming in my ears quieted after the vehicle’s close call with the ditch. Damn it! I could’ve made a run for it.
“Christ! This is fucked up.”
“Call the boss,” ordered the person beside me.
“I’m not calling him,” the driver argued, “I’m driving.”
“Shit,” the scumbag muttered under his breath, and he pulled out a cell phone from the pocket of his jeans.
He pressed one number. The suck-up had Preston Pitrone on fucking speed dial. Pathetic bitch.
He held the speaker of the phone up to his ear and chomped on his bottom lip. Good. He was nervous.
“Hey, yeah, uh, boss…” He exhaled with a brief pause and ran a hand down his face. “We’ve got a problem.”
He listened.
“Well, ah, you see someone was there and—” He licked his lips and shook his head. “No. Not the cops.”
Silence. A bump in the road, the sound of a knock with a bad ball bearing. The driver rolled down the window and spit out a loogie.
Disgusting.
“We don’t know. One asshole—”
“No, dipshit…” the driver interrupted as he turned off the main road and onto a side street. “There were two of ’em.”
“Two. There were two guys there, and they killed everyone except me and Jimmy. We got Joe with us, but”—he glanced at the passenger seat to confirm his buddy’s death and cursed—“he’s dead.”
Another break in the conversation I couldn’t hear. It was longer this time as the scenery rolled by, and I heard him try to speak, but Preston intervened several times. Dude was a pushover, totally whipped, and a huge pussy for his boss.
