Page 204 of My Treasured Obsession

Oscar, who was behind the wheel, shot Craig a scowl. “Hold it in.”

“Can’t,” he said in an awfully annoying and holier-than-thou tone. “I’ll piss my pants.”

“Then you’ll piss your pants.”

“It’ll stink up the car and then Princess in the backseat will complain to her daddy dearest that I ruined her little day trip.”

Craig had nothing but audacity. Especially because he threw me a wink over his shoulder like I was going to find him funny. Ew. I knew to a certain extent I’d lived a sheltered life, but insinuating that I was a brat and using that as ammo wasn’t a way to get in my—or the Remingtons’—good graces.

“Oscar, it’s okay.” I adopted a fake, sickly sweet smile. “Let the youngboyrelieve himself. It’s not his fault he’s not toilet trained yet.”

That sobered up Craig and dragged a chuckle from my usually stoic, middle-aged bodyguard.

Craig glared at me. I shot him an air-kiss with my middle finger.

Oscar grumbled, “I’ll pull over and you have less than a minute to do your business. Understood?”

Not waiting for a reply, Oscar drove the car to the side of the road and Craig flung open the door. To give him privacy, Oscar and I looked the other way while he did his thing.

Immediately, we heard a loud thump.

I jolted in my seat and Oscar cursed at the noise.

Craig’s tall frame could no longer be seen.

Did Craig faint in the midst of peeing?

“Shit.” My guard grabbed his gun. “Stay here, Gabriela.”

Oscar stepped out of the car and I moved down the backseat so I could peer out the window with Luna.

And instantly regretted it.

Goosebumps erupted over my body, that sense of unease amplifying.

Craig was dead, a bullet lodged in his head.

Oscar saw it at the same time as me.

Our worried eyes connected through the window, a silent warning passing through us.

Oscar threw a fleeting glance at our surroundings as he rounded the front of the car. He opened the driver’s door and barked, “We’ve been compromised. We need to head back.Now.”

Before Oscar could get inside, we heard the whistling sound of another bullet.

It struck him right in the throat.

My mouth fell open on a choked, mute scream, Luna following with her own hiss.

Oscar’s body hit the ground with a jarring thud.

Teary and panicked, I scrambled forward to glance in the space between the two front seats. “No, no, no.” Fear slammed in my gut. “Oscar!”

He was dead, lying in a pool of his own blood.

I began crying as I rummaged through my purse for my phone, needing to call Papà, freaking out because someone just killed the two guards who were meant to safely ferry me to my destination.

I never got to call Papà.