Page 26 of Driving My Obsession

Each terrified sound only seems to fuel my attacker’s need to get to me. The door rocks against me with renewed force. Adrenaline rushes through my veins, leaving me lightheaded and weak. I gasp for air between cries for help. But it’s no use. I’ll have to make a run for it.

I step away from the door and allow it to open. Then I come face to face with my attacker.

* * *

Ambrose

What the fuckis taking so long? Either she has no concept of time or she needed to do more than piss. Whatever the reason, I’m sick of waiting. I lock up my Jeep and jog toward the back of the building, the way I saw her head when she left the gas station with a bathroom key in her hand. As soon as I round the corner, her muffled screams reach me.

I rush past the wino perched on the sidewalk, knocking him onto his back as I barrel by. The brown bag falls from his dirty fist and sends a spray of booze across the pavement. His garbled curses fall on deaf ears. I can only hear the sound of scuffling feet behind the bathroom door. Someone is trying to take what belongs to me, but it sounds like my tragedy is giving them one hell of a fight.

I take a step back and aim my shoulder at the door before ramming against it. The metal hinges squeak, and a thud resounds in the tiny space as the door collides with someone’s back. They move away, and I’m able to push it wide open.

Sunlight fills the bathroom, and I spot Oaklyn. She’s backed against the wall. Tendrils of red hair fall from her disheveled ponytail, and she grips a long stick in her shaking hand. Her chest rises and falls as she sucks air through gritted teeth. A wild look blazes in her green eyes. I have never seen something more fierce and beautiful in my life.

The man turns to face me, and I’m overjoyed to see the long scratches carved into the side of his stubbled cheek. Beads of blood dot the red lines. His glassy eyes blink slowly as he takes me in, his gaze running over my frame. He can’t see the taut muscles beneath my jacket, but he doesn’t need to. My size is enough to make him think twice. Too bad he doesn’t have a choice. When he touched my tragedy, he lost the right to walk away. He’ll be lucky if he can ever walk again when I’m finished with him.

My hand shoots forward and grips the front of his shirt. He tries to argue, the words tangling around his tongue, but I refuse to give him a chance to speak. I raise him up a bit before I bring my other fist around in a jab that rattles his jaw, then I snatch him out of the bathroom. His head clangs against the metal doorframe as I swing his body into the sunlight. A deep groan pours from his mouth, and his eyes roll in his head. I’ve dazed him, which is a shame. I want him to feel everything I’m about to do to him.

Oaklyn emerges from the bathroom as I continue to pummel his face with my fist. I expect her to run for the Jeep or beg me to stop, but she surprises me when she steps behind him and brings up her shin in a swift kick to the man’s groin. My stomach tightens because I’ve seen how defined her legs are. That had to hurt.

“You fucking creep!” she screams into his face, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t hear her because he’s close to passing out at this point.

Blood gushes from his nose and busted lip. His right eye has begun to swell, and I’m almost certain I’ve freed two of the yellowed teeth from his mouth. But it’s not enough. I need more. I release my grip on his shirt, and he collapses to the pavement in a limp heap. His hands rise in a feeble attempt to cover his face, but that’s not what I’m going for anyway. I’m a fighter. I know how to work someone over and leave them with something more than a few superficial facial wounds and a concussion.

Like a wild animal, I pounce on him and rain blows to his rib cage until I feel a satisfying crack. Rage flows from my fists in an invisible flood, and I want to drown this fucker in it. As I continue my mindless attack, a mantra plays like a song in my head.

She’s mine.

She’s mine.

She’s mine.

Howdarehe touch her.

Hands close around my arm, and I look up to see who’s been stupid enough to stop me from collecting the debt I’m owed. It’s Oaklyn, and she’s trying to pull me off of him. I snatch my arm away and raise my fist once more, but she pleads for a ceasefire. Her words finally register.

“The station owner is going to call the cops. We have to go.”

As much as I would love to keep laying into this piece of absolute shit, I’m not a stupid man. I have no desire to deal with the police. I rise to my feet and send a final kick into the man’s rib cage before I turn for the Jeep.

“You don’t think they have cameras here, do you?” Oaklyn asks as we pile into the car and pull away from the gas station. She searches the building’s roof.

“A dump like this? Doubtful.” I eye her as she repairs her ponytail. “He didn’t touch you, did he? I mean...he didn’t—”

“No.” She doesn’t look at me when she answers.

I don’t ask anything else. If she doesn’t want to talk about what happened, I won’t force it out of her.

Blood darkens the tip of her finger. She broke a nail in the struggle, and it snapped off low enough to expose the quick. I’m struck again by how hard she fought to keep that man away from her. She didn’t want him inside her. She didn’t want the man from the club either. My brain refuses to admit that she might not be who I’ve made her out to be in my mind. That she might not be a whore.

Because shehasto be. For any of this to work, she has to be. The alternative is too horrible.

“Thank you,” she says as we pull onto the interstate. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up. I didn’t think you’d hear me yelling for you, but I guess I’m louder than I thought.”

“You called my name?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Well, yeah. Who else could I call for?”

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