Page 32 of Dangerous Obsession

“You can do this,” I tell myself, scared of what’s out here. Who’s watching…

A car passes in the night and I feel the hair on my arms rise. What if he has someone following me still? What if the Italians see me? What if some street thug grabs me and rapes me?

I push past the fear, taking a few steps. Thunder tears across the sky, booming so loud it startles me and I whimper and cover my ears. I let a cry of fear fall from my lips and I faintly hear, “You don’t want to do that.”

Is it Leo? But he was sleeping. I take a few more steps, descending the porch and standing in the rain now, wind pelting me with tiny needles. I glance back and see his feet on the stairs.

“Come back in here.”

I turn to the lawn again, but I swear I see some glowing green eyes in the bushes across the street. I am a fucking pussy. I am a yellow-bellied, low-down, no-good chicken. I can’t move. The rain is soaking me, and I’m petrified to my core. What is more scary than being murdered by Leo’s father? Why can’t I run? My dream must have gotten in my head.

“Willow, you don’t want to do that.” I turn and see Leo standing in the doorway wearing nothing but his boxers. He runs a hand through his hair and yawns. “Come back inside.” His hand reaches for me, fingers gesturing for me to come to him.

I have no gun, no way to stay dry or warm. No way to defend myself at all. My hair is already soaked and I’m shivering, but I know I can’t stay here. “Leo, please let me leave. Your dad will kill me.”

“I told you they’re not going to harm a hair on your head, but you’ll get yourself killed out there. Or you’ll catch pneumonia.” He wiggles his fingers again. “Now get in here.”

“Please let me go,” I whimper, but as I do lightning strikes a tree down the street with an electrifying explosion that sends sparks flying, and I’m a stupid baby who runs up the stairs and into his arms.

Leo is there, taking me into his embrace, though it’s not a romantic gesture. He snatches me off the porch, dripping wet, and plants me inside as he shuts the door and uses the key to lock it again. I realize my folly of leaving the key in the lock as I stand shivering and leaving a puddle on the floor.

“You’re really stupid,” he says, stripping me of the coat first, then my jeans.

I am really stupid. I thought the leather would keep my top dry, but as he upends me and I fall backward onto the couch so he can peel off my shoes and pants, I feel the soggy collar still chilling my skin. The water ran right down my hair into the coat and soaked me to the bone.

“Please, Leo…” I whine, but he ignores me. With my bottom half naked, clothes piled on the floor near the door, he tears the shirt down the front and yanks it off me, then removes my bra. Both items of clothing go in the pile before he points at the stairs.

“You were saying ‘Please, Leo’ a little differently last night,” he says, and his smirk makes me want to smack him. “So unless you want my fist in your pussy again, I suggest we sleep.”

He puts the key back on the chain and clasps it around his neck for safekeeping and I know I’m defeated once again. He follows me up the stairs as I do my walk of shame. The air conditioning makes me so cold my nipples shrivel to hard peaks and I am shivering as I climb in bed. Leo lays behind me, forcing me to bend so he can curl around me, and I feel his cock harden and slide between my thighs. No fucking way I’m doing that tonight. I buck against him and grunt, and he gets the point, pulling away slightly.

“You’re still mine, Willow. You always will be. And I will provide everything you need, especially protection. But you better start obeying me because bad girls get punished.” I guess to prove a point, he grinds his dick against my body again until it pushes between my ass cheeks and I whimper.

I don’t say another word. I’m too tired to fight him. The drugs I used last night have overtaken my brain again and lying down in the dark, I find myself getting sleepy. I’ll try again. I’m not giving up. Leo can stop me as many times as he wants, but I’ll keep trying. I need to get to my father to warn him. I need to stay away from Alexsi, and I need Leo to understand I can’t be his, even if he thinks it’s true. Even if my own heart wants it to be true.

Because I can’t die. I don’t want to die.

19

LEO

Ipull the covers up over Willow’s shoulder, tucking her in. She doesn’t have a fever, but she’s been tossing in her sleep. After I made breakfast this morning she said she felt ill. She’s been saying that for a few days. There’s no way I can bring a doctor in here though. The family doctor takes orders from my father and if I reach out he’ll want to clear it through Dad or Dom first. So all I can do is nurse her until she’s better and hope it’s just something she ate.

She mumbles and I watch her eyes dart around behind her eyelids. More nightmares. She’s plagued by them now. We have separate beds in this place, but she asks me to hold her before she sleeps. I never tell her, but I stay here the whole night and make sure I’m awake and out of bed before she wakes up. It’s torture watching her be so restless in her sleep like this.

I linger by her bedside for a few minutes and finally decide I have to get on with my day. It’s now been weeks since we locked ourselves into this house for our own safety, weeks without contact with my family. The news has been mostly quiet, though there are still requests broadcast for information regarding Willow’s disappearance as Reba Sanders. The world will never see Reba again, but hopefully one day Willow will be reborn in a way that keeps her safe and my father off our backs.

I trudge downstairs and make myself a snack. We don’t have much in the way of food right now because we have to get a grocery delivery again. I’ve just been too lazy to open the app and order things. Willow doesn’t have the means to do it without my phone, so I can’t even blame her. With her phone left behind at my father’s house, she relies on me for everything now.

I grab a bag of chips and a beer, and head to the living room. I’m experienced in the art of living in a safehouse for long periods of time without exposure to the outside world, but even I’m growing tired of this. My family responsibilities have gone unmet for all this time, but life has gone on as if I don’t exist. I know they have to keep things running smoothly. It’s just business. I know when I return my spot will be there. I’m not a traitor. I haven’t turned my father in to the authorities. I just want what I want and they’ll have to get used to that.

The TV blares to life at the click of a button and I flip through channels. This time of day it’s mostly soap operas and game shows. None of this appeals to me. I’d read a book but that’s not my thing either. When I feel like this, I normally shoot the breeze with Matty or Rome. Sometimes we shoot things—literally. We go to the gun range for target practice to keep our aim sharp and our guns calibrated. But this is torture.

Things have to be clearing up by now, at least enough that my family understands Willow is a part of my life and we both need the same respect and protection. She isn’t guilty of what my father thought; she never was. I understand why he drew the line in the sand, but he was wrong. He just won’t admit it. The rest of the family is blinded by loyalty to my father.

Angry, I change the channel again and it lands on a news broadcast. It’s better than dramas, so I watch it and turn it up. They talk about the weather for a while, then the Farmer’s Almanac and the long-range forecast. The sportscaster runs through some statistics on the games that happened over the weekend but that’s old news to me. Since I have nothing better to do than sit here and twiddle my thumbs, I watched all the games he reports on.

When it flashes back to the anchors, they start discussing something that has me sitting up in my seat. Images of the bookstore cycle through as the woman tells the story of a drive-by shooting.

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