Page 108 of Obsession

I take one last deep drag, filling my burning lungs with the toxic smoke, before tossing the cigarette to the snowy ground and crushing it beneath my boot.

I imagine him upstairs with her, touching and kissing her while she moans his name. The thought of them together won’t leave. It taunts me until it takes a herculean effort to stay rooted to the spot.

By the time he finally exits the building, I’m ready to murder him in cold blood.

I set off after him and keep my head down to hide my face from nearby surveillance. His Oxfords leave footprints in the snow, and his breaths puff out in front of him. He presses a button on the key in his hand, which unlocks the car. He’s still unaware that he’s being stalked by his worst nightmare. Just as he’s about to reach for the handle, I press my gun to the back of his head and feel him stiffen.

Snow dusts the tips of his blonde hair, maroon scarf, and stiff shoulders. Silence reigns, thick and heavy, disturbed only by the distinct click as I cock the gun.

Slowly raising his hands, he stares straight ahead. “Can’t say I’m surprised that you sought me out, Robbie Hammond. A lot of people are looking for you.”

“Let’s go for a little ride.” I shove him forward, and he rounds the car, watching me carefully with a simmering rage in his emerald eyes—a rage reflected in my own.

“You won’t get away with this,” he says tersely as he opens the door.

My response is an arched eyebrow. “Get in.”

He disappears from view, entering the vehicle. With a final look around the empty parking lot to ensure we’re alone, I open the door and slide inside. The first thing I notice is the sharp, clean scent mingled with his citrusy cologne and pine from theair freshener. Shaped like a fir tree, it dangles from the rearview mirror.

“Drive,” I grind out, staring at the air freshener. My mind whirls, piecing puzzle pieces together. I slowly slide my eyes in his direction, taking in his trench coat and scarf before turning to look at the backseat. Nothing seems out of place. Everything is clean and tidy.

I observe him again, the sharp line of his jaw and the flexing muscle in his cheek. “Start the engine.”

Those stormy emerald eyes flash, and then he turns the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life, and the headlights flood the empty parking lot. Snow swirls through the yellow beams, hauntingly beautiful despite the threat in the air.

“Where to?” Elliot asks, his voice strained.

“I’ll worry about that. You just drive.”

The tires compress the fresh layer of snow, leaving trails behind as we roll out onto the road. I watch the office building grow smaller in the sideview mirror before it disappears completely. Elliot drives in silence, his jaw working furiously. He’s pent-up and ready to snap.

Me, on the other hand. I’m calm and in control. My grip on the gun never wavers as I aim it at his head, imagining how pretty his brain would look splattered on the car’s interior. The farther away we drive, and the more distance we put between him and my Savannah, the easier I can breathe.

“How long do you think you can evade the police?” His gravelly voice disturbs the peaceful silence.

“Long enough to do what I’m here to do.”

“Which is what, exactly? Stalk an innocent girl half your age? Kill her father’s friends? I’m a reporter, Hammond. The police might not publicly link you to those murdersyet,butit doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

“I thought they were classed as disappearances?” My voice drips with humor.

His jaw tightens once more, and he chances a look in my direction before focusing back on the road. Beads of sweat have formed on his forehead, and his knee jiggles. The killer in me, the salivating devil, notices every nervous tell.

Satisfaction swells within me. I like his fear and how it licks a delicious path along my skin.

“So, what is this? Are you going to kill me?”

“Take a left here.” I gesture with the gun toward an unlit dirt road lined with thick trees. Beside me, Elliot stiffens.

The tension in the car crackles as he spins the wheel, steering through the bend. Twisted, gnarly branches slap the windows, and the car wobbles on the uneven ground.

“Cut the lights.”

Elliot hesitates, and his eyes swing in my direction as a bead of sweat slides down his temple. Reaching forward, he kills the lights. Blackness floods the car. Complete silence descends, disturbed only by the branches against the window and the sound of the car’s engine.

“Stop here.”

The car slows. Elliot cuts the engine and eases back against the seat.