Page 38 of The Obsession
“Yeah.”
“Where are you going?”
“To her house.”
There’s a brief silence, and when I glance back at him, he’s wearing a small smile; it’s faint but clear. “Good.”
I pull up a few houses down from the dive that Emily calls home. That fucker’s bike is parked on the unkept lawn, so I stay in the car, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel while I ponder what to do.
I’m not afraid to walk straight up to the door and knock. Honestly, I’d welcome the chance. But the last thing I want is to make things harder for her.
Dante, Romeo, and most of the guys in theFamigliaare always packing, but not me. I don’t need a gun. I have my hands and a temper that, once raised, won’t let anyone stand between me and the person I’m going after.
This guy is now at the top of my list, and as far as I’m concerned, this is more than a job that needs doing; it’s personal. I’d hate to be on the receiving end when I finally get hold of him, and that day is coming around quick fucking smart.
I slide my hand into my pocket and pull out Emily’s Chapstick. I swore I’d throw this thing away, yet here I am, still carrying it around like a tool.
I turn it over in my fingers, pretending it’s no big deal, but the truth is, it’s pathetic how this thing has its hooks in me, just like the woman who once owned it. It’s worth a couple of dollars at best, but I treat it like it’s priceless.
Uncapping the lid, I bring it to my nose and inhale the faint caramel scent. It’s faded over time, just like the label, but the sentiment is still as strong as ever.
I push my head back into the seat. “Emily, Emily, Emily,” I mumble under my breath as I recap the Chapstick and toss it in the centre console. This woman is unknowingly sending me around the fucking bend.
I should just drive away, but I don’t. I decide to sit here for a while, hoping to catch even a glimpse of her to ease my mind. It’s a possibility she’s sick, like she claims, but my gut tells me that’s not what’s going on here. I swear, if there’s another mark on her, I’m going to lose my shit.
About ten minutes pass before I get any movement. I straighten in my seat, and my pulse quickens when the front screen door swings open, but it’s him who steps out, not her.
He slams the door with such force that I hear it clearly through my closed window, and my hackles rise. He kicks one of Emily’s flower pots, and when it goes flying over the edge of the porch and lands on the dying grass below, I see red. She loves those damn things.
I know fury when I see it, and the way he storms towards his bike with his fists curled at his sides proves it. That’s not just anger, that’s the kind that spirals. The kind that looks for the nearest throat to wrap itself around.
My seatbelt’s off, and I’m out of the car before he’s even straddled his bike. He guns it hard, the rear wheel fishtailing through dry grass, sending a cloud of dust bursting into the air. He cuts across the lawn like a maniac, hops the footpath, and flies down the gutter.
I’m already crossing the street as he tears off at lightning speed. Fucking fool. He’s in a residential area, and I saw small children playing down the street on my drive here.
With a bit of luck, he’ll wrap himself around a pole and save me the trouble of having to end him myself. Although I’d rather enjoy giving him a taste of his own medicine. My fingers are itching to wrap around his scrawny throat. Any man who puts his hands on a woman is a lowdown, dirty fucking dog, so he deserves whatever is coming his way.
I storm up the driveway. I have no idea how long her boyfriend will be gone, and I don’t care. If this is the only chance I get to see her, I’m taking it. After his aggressive departure, I have no other choice.
If he comes back while I’m still here, I’ll deal with it.
I jog up the front stairs and pound on the siding before my mind even registers my actions. My knuckles sting from the ferocity, but I don’t stop.
“Emily,” I call, my tone urgent, but all I get in return is silence. I try again, louder this time. “Emily, it’s Dominic, open up.”
Images of her lying facedown on the floor behind that door flash through my mind. I’m about to kick it down in desperation when I hear a faint shuffle inside. The lock clicks, the knob turns, and I brace myself for what I’m about to face.
The door opens a crack, just enough to reveal a sliver of her pretty face. The one blue eye I can see widens when it locks on me, and the first thing I notice is that it’s lacking its usual sparkle.
“Dominic,” she says over a gasp. “Why are you here?”
“I needed to make sure you were alright.”
“So you came to my house? You could’ve come to my work to see me.”
“I did, but it’s a bit hard to see you when you’re not there. Why did you call in sick? Did he hurt you again?”
Her gaze diverts off to the side, and her lack of a response tells me he has.
