Page 144 of Obsession

I stay silent while the streets pass by in a blur outside the windows. The tense atmosphere crackles and thickens as we remain locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to look away first.

Uneasy, Chapman clears his throat and throws a brief look at me in the rearview mirror before glancing at Briem, carefully selecting his words. “What did you do with her, Hammond?”

Silence.

“Where is she, Hammond? Her family is worried.”

My tongue darts out to trail along my bottom lip, and I smirk, raising my eyebrow.

Briem’s gaze darkens, and the air thickens ominously. He fists his hands on his lap, probably wishing he could strangle me.

“Take us to her body,” Chapman tries again, his worried eyes flicking down to Briem’s fisted hands. He grinds his teeth and tightens his grip on the steering wheel as he shifts his gaze to me in the rearview mirror. That look of desperation is back, a look I’m too familiar with. I’m not supposed to be in this car with them. Especially not Briem. If their superior finds out—and he will—it’s game over, but Briem is beyond caring.

Chapman, well, Chapman wants to play the hero. Oh, how I want to toy with him and watch him sweat.

“If she’s dead, we need to bring her home to her family, Hammond.”

I look away from Briem and fix my eyes on Chapman. “Who says she’s dead?”

Silence falls on the car. Chapman watches me in the mirror as he wrings the wheel, sweat dampening his forehead. The cogs turn in his brain.

He flicks his eyes to his colleague and clears his throat, then subtly shakes his head to discourage his friend from throttling me. The intention is clear in the silent warning in his burning gaze. “Robbie, it’s important that you listen to me?—”

“Why?” I interrupt him. “It’s not like you have anything to offer me. When all is said and done, the girl will walk free, and I’ll be back behind bars.” I lean forward, and the shackles dig into my wrists. It’s a sensation I’m familiar with, a sensation that, oddly enough, is comforting. “But you see, that doesn’t work for me. I didn’t escape prison out of fear of death, or some desperate hope to avoid the needle.” My eyes swing from Chapman to Briem, and the smirk returns to my lips. “I had unfinished business, still do”—I shrug—“and I needed an insurance policy.”

When Briem stiffens, I add, “No offense.”

“An insurance policy?” Chapman asks carefully, pulling over at the side of the road and cutting the engine.

In the space of him asking the question and exchanging a glance with Briem, I pounce.

Propelling myself forward, I trap his throat between my shackled wrists and pull hard. The back of his head slams against the headrest, and the sweet sound of choking makes me salivate.

Surprised, Briem grabs his gun from the inside of his pocket and aims at me.

His shaky hands betray the panic in his wide eyes. “Let him go.”

I twist my shackles to tighten the chain, trapping Chapman’s neck against the headrest.

I flash a disarming smile. “You won’t shoot me.”

“You want to test that theory? Let him the fuck go!”

Tutting, I offer him my most sympathetic smile. “If you shoot me, you won’t ever see your precious niece again. Trust me, it won’t end well if I die or go back to prison.”

His conflicted eyes bounce between me and Chapman, unsure and panicked. Rage clenches his jaw, and the gun shakes when he asks, “She’s alive?”

“She’s alive,” I confirm, convinced my smile looks certifiable.

The driver’s seat rattles from Chapman’s violent kicks, and his choked grunts are obnoxiously loud in the seconds that follow, seconds in which Briem faces a tough choice.

His colleague or niece.

His career or family.

“Fuck!” He lowers the gun.

“Good choice.” I trap Chapman’s head between my arms and snap his neck.