Page 59 of Intoxicating Pursuit
The Missing Piece
THE STALKER
C laudia unlocked the door to her overpriced West Hollywood apartment and clicked her Ludovisa Viancci roller bag over the foyer’s cool, white tiles.
It had been a long flight back from Boston, where the film crew had dragged her to enough greasy delis and stinking, dockside lobster shacks to convince her that Americans deserved every butter-coated shred of heart disease they got.
Her clothes and hair reeked of boiled crustaceans, and she crawled with germs from the cramped plane.
“Fall in New England” might pay the bills, but it sure as hell was not her vibe.
She badly needed a reset—a sauna, a shower, and maybe a top-shelf cocktail by the rooftop pool. A strong buzz and a dewy-skinned bikini photo against the glittering skyline of Los Angeles would put her back on brand. The mere thought spread relief through her body.
Claudia set her clutch on the foyer credenza and eased the kinks out of her neck as she strolled to the living room and flipped on the lights.
Her heart clamped down in a violent gush of blood.
Oscar sat in her prized San Violette chaise, unmoving, his eyes dark and simmering with rage. He slowly unfolded his mass from the chair, rising to reveal the Glock G32 in his gloved hand.
She had left it in a locked safe.
Adrenaline and anger exploded in Claudia’s chest—her instinct was always for fight, not flight. “ You broke into my fucking apartmen t ? ”
Oscar straightened his spine, gaining another inch of height Claudia had never seen. He walked her way without hurry—a looming, inevitable force—and stopped just out of her reach. His rumbling smoker’s voice clawed up her spine. “ You. Stole. My. Fucking. Glock .”
She glared at him defiantly. “So what! Do you have any idea how many creeps follow me around L.A.? I need that gun more than you do!”
Claudia searched the room frantically, rifling through a mental inventory. The kitchen knives were too far away. There was nothing sharp or heavy on the island. She kept a taser in the credenza drawer— not far behind her. She stumbled back a couple steps.
Oscar closed in. “We have a very big problem, Claudia.”
“Well, you obviously solved it. So, get the fuck out! ”
“No. You took my Glock. I really don’t appreciate that.” He lifted the gun to chest height, letting the lethal end drift casually in her direction as he sampled the gun’s heft. “Funny thing is, it’s got your prints all over it, now. Isn’t that interesting?”
Claudia groped the air behind her for the credenza drawer. A few more feet.
“It’s sad though. A young, unstable woman. A gun. You could hurt yourself.” His eyes were empty and cold, set on a path. “Such a shame.”
“Do you have a point, Oscar?” If he fired the gun at this angle, the bullet would rip through her chest. She crept backwards.
Oscar kept the pistol level. “Gabe had a gun shoved in his spine last month. That’s my goddamn point. I don’t wanna see it again.” He stepped closer, backing her toward the wall. “ It’s time. For you. To get a new hobby .”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Then you tell you what to do.” He stared her down. “Because this ends tonight.”
Claudia finally felt the credenza knob. She yanked the drawer open and scrambled for the weapon.
Oscar watched her impassively. “You don’t own a taser anymore, Claudia. In fact, you don’t own any weapons. Crazy and sexy is fine. Crazy and armed is horseshit.”
She spun on him, furious. “What the hell , Oscar? You think that’s gonna help? Like I can’t get another—”
Claudia’s face smashed into the drywall, the soft tissue of her nose and cheek crushed against the edge of a mirror. Her shoulder screamed, wrenched behind her back at an impossible angle.
“ You’re not hearing me , Claudia!” Oscar had attacked like a grizzly.
“ Oscar, stop !” Claudia tried to wriggle free. “ Oscar, you’re hurting me! Stop! ”
He leaned his face to her temple, filling her nose with his stale, cindered breath. “I haven’t even begun .”
She struggled, the pain in her shoulder sizzling.
“What you feel right now? I’m being as gentle as a baby bird. But I can turn up the volume as high as I need to.” Oscar leaned into the hold, tearing at the delicate tendons in her shoulder. He pressed the steel cage of his ribs into her back, squeezing the air from her lungs. “You hearing me yet?”
Claudia sputtered under the blazing explosion of pain.
Oscar's damp lips pressed against her ear. “Gabe isn’t ever gonna want the scary chick. Got it? Not ever . The more you show up, the more psycho you act, the more he hates you.”
Claudia stilled like a trapped animal, lost in crashing waves of pain.
Oscar spat his hot breath on her. “So, I don’t ever want to see you near him, or me, or my fucking weapons ever again!”
He released her arm from the fiery hold and stepped back.
She took frantic breaths but didn’t turn around—wouldn’t look at him. . . wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Oscar flipped the lights off, and low, scraping gravel of his voice echoed in the room. “Figure it out, Claudia. Because either this is done— or you are.”
Oscar disappeared into the darkness.