Page 16 of Dangerous Obsession

I meet Willow at the window and use the key to unlock the padlock so we can fold the bars back. I open the window; it sticks and creaks as I push it up. It’s barely large enough for me to slide through, but Willow manages quickly. She stands on the fire escape just outside and points at the counter.

“Fuck, my bag, Leo.” It’s funny how the minute she is afraid, I’m no longer Leonid and I’m her protector again. “It has my ID, my bank cards, my prescriptions. If they get that, they’ll know everything about me.”

“Fuck’s sake, woman,” I snap and dart across the room as the banging on the door gets louder.

“Open the door, Leonid. We only want to talk.” I hear laughter accompanying the order and I grab Willow’s bag and head back to the window. I have exactly three rounds left in my gun as I shove the bag into her hands and hoist myself out. I will have to use them wisely if we end up in a shootout.

“Go!” I urge her, and she pushes the ladder downward, then slings her bag over her shoulder. She climbs quickly, but I skip the climb, leaping to the ground when I hear a loud crash behind me. I tuck and roll when I touch down; my ankles scream at me, but I’m not hurt. We have to get out of here; they’ve broken down the door.

“Okay, Spiderman,” she says snarkily, and takes my hand.

“Let’s go.” We take off, running down the narrow alley and the report of a weapon chases us. Bullets strike the buildings around us as we run. I turn and fire a single round, hoping for cover. I have to save the ammunition I have because the rest of it is all in the safehouse we just fled.

“Here!” she hisses, trying to turn left, but I see an old Chevy pickup truck and I know I can hotwire it.

“No, here. We need wheels.” I yank her the other direction and she loses a shoe, but we keep running.

“God, Leo… My shoe,” she whines, her bare foot slapping the sidewalk.

“You can get new ones.”

I ram the back of my elbow into the passenger side window and it shatters, sprinkling glass all over the ground. Reaching inside, I unlock it and open it. Willow looks down at the glass with disdain, but the gunfire hasn't stopped. We don’t have time for this. I pick her up and shove her in the car and slam the door. By the time I’m around to the driver’s side, she has it unlocked.

“Look for a knife, screwdriver, anything.” I tear into the center console and Willow gets on her knees, leaning over the seat to look in the crew cab. I’m not afraid, but I do realize the gravity of the situation. I can’t shoot our way out of this one. They had to have tracked us from that damn store. I knew it was a bad idea, and I let my fucking emotions get the better of me. I made a horrible choice. This is why my father said she’d make me weak.

“Got it!” she says, sitting up. One hand grips the seat, her back to the windshield, and the other holds a flathead screwdriver. But behind her, I see my worst nightmare. One of the men has his gun on aim. I raise my weapon and reach it right past her, firing the round that’s so loud she screams and covers her ears, but my aim is true. It hits him in the gut.

“Get down,” I tell her, grabbing the screwdriver. “I only have one round left.”

Willow obeys, curling into a ball on the seat as I jam the screwdriver into the key slot and turn it hard. It tests my strength, but I feel it break loose. She whimpers, and I hear men shouting. They’re getting closer. I pull hard, exposing the ignition switch and cylinder, and the rest is a cakewalk. I find the right wires, twist them together. I get a bit of a shock and jerk my hand back, shaking it, but the car starts.

I slam it into gear and push the accelerator to the ground, and we’re off, though the old metal beast does cop a few bullets as we race away.

“And I didn’t even have to use my last round.” I shake my head and sigh, relieving the tension. “You can get up now.”

Willow looks up at me and wipes her eyes. She’s been crying. For good reason too. She could have died.

“See why I protect you?”

She glares at me but says nothing. I have no fucking clue where we’ll go, so I just drive. I just have to figure it out before we run out of gas.

10

WILLOW

It’s dark. The gas light chimes and I know this beat-up old pickup truck won’t take us much farther. At least we got away from those men again. Leo hasn’t said a word to me for at least twenty minutes, nor has he called anyone. We’re in a part of town I’ve never been in, where the row houses are all restored and expensive cars are parked bumper to bumper on the streets. This truck stands out like a sore thumb, but that doesn’t seem to bother Leo.

“Where are we?” I try to see his face in the flashes of light as we drive beneath each streetlight.

“My old neighborhood. My father lives here.” He whips the truck into an alley and parks it, but the engine continues to run, maybe because it’s hotwired and there is no key to turn it off. “Get out.”

“But…” I protest. He is out with his door shut before I can even get one word out. I have no choice. He starts down the alley without me and I don’t want to be left behind with this truck for the police to find me and think I stole it. I swing the door open and climb out, clutching my bag to my chest. “Wait up!” I hiss, not wanting to shout. It’s late now, a lot of the homes we passed had all the lights out already.

Leo pauses for a moment while I try to catch up. I limp slightly thanks to only having one shoe. The bottom of my foot hurts each time I take a step thanks to the pebbles and stones on the pavement. It feels like walking across a wood floor covered in Lego bricks.

“You do realize your father threatened to kill me, right? I can’t go to his house.” It is impossible to keep pace with this ogre. His legs have to be a foot longer than mine, and he won’t ease up.

“Fine, you can stay on the street. You’ll last exactly two hours without my protection. Or did you forget already what happened when we left the safehouse? They tracked us.”

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