Obsession

by Harleigh Beck

“That coworker of yours still causing you trouble?” My eyes widen, surprised he remembers, but I arrange my features to resemble a blank mask. “It’s nothing new.”

“Have you told your boss?” I scoff before I can stop myself.

“Did you know much about me when you asked for me to conduct these interviews?”

“You’re a smart woman, Savannah. Listen to your instincts.”

Energy fizzles between us, or maybe it’s all in my head. I’m all too aware of the man in front of me, and it’s messing with my mind.

“My instincts are telling me to run toward danger.”

“Your instincts are trying to kill you, Savannah.”

I’m starting to realize that he looks forward to our meetings as much as I do.

“It would be nice if a woman could trust me before I die.”

“That was cheesy!” I tease, wiping tears from my eyes. “Maybe it’s true.”

“Rule number one: Don’t ever fall for the sob story.”

“Don’t let his magnetism cloud your senses.” Those sensuous lips curve into a dangerous smile, and I almost whimper out loud. “Good girl.”

“I want you to have an answer to rule number three.”

I wished for it once, but Robbie is right. Even now, I crave my father’s respect. And because he’s unable to give it to me, I seek it in other men.

“It’s funny how karma works, Dad. I hope you rot. When you take your last breath, I will finally smile again.”

“You care for him.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“Sweet young lady. You’ll get your heart broken.”

I place the tattered teddy from my childhood down on the kitchen table. It looks out of place in this dank trailer, but a small part of me wants to bring the only sense of safety I had back then—the safety my perpetrators constantly ripped from my small hands—and place it here.

“Robbie needs you more than I do.”

He seems to have caught on to what lurks behind the mask, and like a set of glowing eyes in the shadows, he coaxes me closer with that sinful smirk.

Her boss has given her a weekly column about me—one I find amusing as fuck.

She’s careful with her wording, as if she’s guarding my privacy, and I wonder why that is. I wonder a lot of things.

Savannah Campbell has been on my mind a lot lately.

She’s too young for me, but maybe her innocence is what makes her so damn irresistible. Then again, that’s a lie, isn’t it?

She shouldn’t lure me out from the shadows like that with her twinkling eyes. Not if she knows what’s good for her.

A blood-red rose lies atop a folded note amongst the mess, its thorns sharp and deadly to the touch.

Rule number three, Savannah: Never turn your back on a killer.

Robbie is getting a mouthful when I see him next. How dare he put me in this situation? Even if the gesture was sweet.

My eyes narrow, but before I can spit venom at him, he crushes the rose in his big palm, causing my heart to crumble.

“I sense a bit of hostility on your part,” Robbie says, amusement flashing in his eyes when I glare up at him while the guard unlocks his shackles.

The moment his ass hits the chair, I toss the crumpled rose with its crushed petals on the table.

“I guess you don’t like roses.” “Your little stunt landed me in deep shit.”

“Elliot was there when I found the rose and your note.” I quirk a brow, ignoring the warmth spreading through my chest as he relaxes back in his chair.

now have to go to dinner with the asshole unless I want my boss to find out that the country’s most notorious serial killer is gifting me flowers.”

“What’s your boss gonna do?” he drawls, watching me closely while bouncing his knee.

“He can’t fire you.” “Of course, he can,” I blurt, but he surges forward so fast, I jerk back. “No, he can’t, Savannah.”

“Because he’s salivating over my story, my confession. He knows what it can do for his small-time newspaper. If he drops you, he has no story.”

“My story belongs to you, Savannah. My confession is yours and yours alone.”

“Listen to me carefully, Savannah. You’re going to turn Elliot down, unless you want the sniffing dog to die a slow, painful death.”

No walls can contain him. Not unless he allows it.

“When will we talk about the murders?” “When you trust me.” His eyes dare me to look away.

“Trust my gut? Because it has such a good track record,” I sass

“I would have ended up as a notch on your bedpost if I trusted my instincts. Another photograph of a dead girl in the newspaper. Unless you’ve noticed, I’m not a good judge of character.”

“You asked for these interviews,” I remind him. “Why would you do that if you didn’t plan on telling me the truth? Is it just a ruse on your part to get out of that cell?”

“Tell me, Savannah.” His tongue darts out, swiping across his bottom lip. “Do you feel regret?” My eyes widen. What the hell?

Robbie sees the truth in me. I can’t hide who I am when he’s around.

So it’s a small sacrifice to suffer through a meal with Elliot while he tells me how sorry he is. Even if he got me here by being an ass.

Robbie’s voice whispers in my mind once more. “Trust your gut instinct.”

“It’s gonna cost you,” he says. A chuckle rumbles in my chest as I take it off him. “You say that every time.” “She’s a firecracker.”

“The reporter. Read the note. She refused to leave until someone agreed to hand deliver it to you.” “You read it?” “Of course, I fucking read it. You’re a condemned prisoner, Hammond.”