Page 155 of Twisted Obsession

A sick feeling creeps up my throat.

“Thanks,” I manage.

He nods apologetically. “Stop by the front desk and get a new key.”

“Did they say how he even got in?”

He frowns. “No. Besides the photo, there’s no evidence that hedidget into the room. We’re still checking into that.”

“Thanks.”

Greyson and Steele move in front of me.

“Thanks, Officer,” one of them says quietly.

And then we’re shuffled away.

It isn’t until Jacob appears, the game over and the crowd mostly gone, that I lose control of my calm facade. I fall into his chest, and the torrent of fear, oftears, lets loose.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I cry, gripping his shirt. “I don’t want to live in fear.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I know. That’s why we’re going to end it.”

“How?”

I don’t say the rest of what I’m thinking. That if Jacob goes up against Henry, he might not win. That’s just fear.

A new expression crosses Jacob’s face. One of determination. And I find myself mirroring it. Drawing on his strength. Because I definitely need some of it.

“We’ll figure it out. But not here. We need to be on home turf. Somewhere that will put him off balance.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Denver?”

“Nope.” He glances at his friends. “We’re going back to Crown Point.”

58

JACOB

It just feels better in Crown Point. I can’t explain it.

I wrap my arm around Melody, tucking her close into my side, as we walk toward the CPU arena. We took a red-eye and landed early this morning, and now we’re just killing time. Hoping to get spotted so Henry chases us.

Which means going a little more public than Melody might want.

“Are you sure about this?” she asks for the hundredth time. “Once we go public…”

“I’m sure.” I tighten my grip on her shoulder. “I’m so fucking sure, Melody.”

Ourfirststop is the arena, where Coach Roake is holding an open practice. They’re not in the playoffs this year, but he opens the rink through until the end of the NHL season to encourage fitness. He works on whatever skills his players need to improve upon.

I open the door for her, and we head inside. Greyson, Miles, Steele, and Knox are all meeting us there. Although it appears we’re the first ones.

“Coach,” I call.

He stands on the players’ bench, looking at a clipboard, but his head comes up. He spots me, and a smile cracks his lips.

“Well, if it isn’t Jacob Rhodes.” His voice booms out, drawing attention.

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