Page 95 of Obsession

“Seems like a coincidence to me is all.”

“What are we talking about?” Nicholas asks, bouncing his eyes between us.

I give a subtle shake of my head. Nicholas doesn’t know about our past, and the shit we put Campbell’s daughter through. I’ll be honest, I’m surprised she never pressed charges.

Michael’s eyebrow lifts, and I narrow my eyes. “It’s a possibility,” he says, holding his hands up by his head as though I might flip off the handle any second. “Maybe the old man caught feelings for the girl.”

“She’s hardly a girl anymore, is she?” I reach for the packet of cigarettes, bite one out, and snatch up the lighter. It takes three tries to strike a flame.

Inhaling deeply, I allow the toxic smoke to soothe the unease inside me. I don’t believe much in premonition, but I have a verystrong sense that something fucking bad is about to happen. And I can’t shake it, no matter how many beers I drink, or how many wet pussies I stick my dick inside.

Nicholas excuses himself to take a leak.

When he’s gone, Michael leans in close across the table, as if he wants to share a secret with me. I lean in too, blowing smoke out to the side. “I know this guy who knows someone.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Young pussy. Like the good old days.”

I choke on the smoke, whacking my chest with my fist. “For real?”

“For real. I fucking miss breaking them in, you know? Makes me fucking hard just thinking about it.”

“It’s a bad idea,” I point out, though I can’t ignore the excitement that sparks inside me.

Michael snorts, dealing the cards. “Are you in or not?”

He’s not talking about the game, but I collect the cards anyway, a smile pulling at my lips. “Fuck it, why not.”

“See you next week,”Michael says as I shrug on my coat. I lost another round, but I’m too drunk to give a shit. I wobble on the spot, struggling to shove my phone into my jeans pocket.

Nicholas stands up too, nowhere near as drunk as me. He clasps my shoulder on his way past as he heads for the kitchen.

With a final wave over my shoulder, I exit the living room. The hallway tips sideways, so I push my hand into the torn wallpaper. I lost too much money tonight trying to win it back. Fucking stupid. I never learn.

As I step outside, the cold air slaps me in the face, and I sober somewhat. Enough to set off in a straight line down the sidewalk. The streetlights are few and far between. I pass graffitied apartment blocks and boarded-up windows. When thefuck did our lives go so fucking wrong? When did Wednesday poker night become more than a bit of fun? When did the game take over my life?

“Wait up.”

I turn at the sound of a male voice behind me. Squinting against the snowflakes, I try to make him out. “Who are y?—”

He aims a gun at my face and cocks it with a dark smile that reveals a hint of sharp incisor teeth. “Long time no see, David.”

Fear grips my throat. I stare at the weapon, slowly raising my hands by my sides. “I never thought I’d see you again, Hammond.”

“Funny. Archer said the same thing. Now move.” He gestures with the gun, notes of impatience bleeding into his deep voice. “Move!”

I turn around and scan the empty street. “Where to, Hammond?”

A hard blow to my head causes my legs to buckle from beneath me, and darkness descends, dragging me under. The last thing I see is the blurry form of Hammond as he bends over me. “Enjoy your sleep. I’ll be seeing you real soon.”

Every musclein my body aches as I slowly regain consciousness. My eyes flutter open, and I blink when I spot a man seated in a chair across from my bed. My thoughts are sluggish. I try to shake my head to clear it, but the haze remains, clinging to the fringes of my consciousness.

How the fuck did I get home? I am home, right?

Craning my neck, I peer around the familiar room. Something is wrong. My shoulders ache.

What the hell? My wrists are zip-tied to the bed frame. I try to pull free, but my fingers tingle in response.