Page 29 of Obsessive Love (The King #1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Kaleb

D ominic and I jump behind one of the black SUVs we drove here, narrowly avoiding the tyrant of bullets that pelt against the metal on the other side. I quickly glance around the dark carpark that's only partially lit up by one of the cars that's currently burning, trying to spot my brother, but all I can see are flames and bleeding men.

"You have any idea where the fuck Jericho went?" I shout to Dominic, turning to look at his wide-eyed expression.

He shakes his head as he reloads his gun and wipes a hand across his sweaty forehead.

"Last I saw, he and Leo were running towards Charlie because he was blocked in and about to get lit up."

Hearing the slight tremor in his voice makes me laugh, and when he stares at me with a worried expression, my laugh turns to a guffaw.

I'm not sure Jericho's plan will go as smoothly as he thinks if Dominic is shaken from tonight's events, especially considering he's unharmed and has barely been shot at. This guy needs to go out more if he ever wants to be in charge of the whole organisation.

The gunfire behind us comes to a halt, so I raise my head and peek through the shattered window, counting the men who are reloading their guns, and then duck back down.

"There's four behind us, including Frank. You seem to have decent aim, so go for the two on the left. I'll aim for the guy on the furthest right and then I'll incapacitate the capo," I instruct, reloading Holly. I turn to Dominic, waiting for him to nod in understanding and then I kiss the butt of my gun for good luck before I stand up and open fire.

I fire two shots, and the guy on the left is on the floor, writhing in pain.

Another shot and Frank is clutching his leg as he aimlessly shoots back, missing me with each bullet.

I see one of the guys beside him raising their gun, preparing to shoot either Dominic or me, and although my instinct is to allow him to shoot at the King's heir, I see a flash of Sophia in my head with a sad and devastated expression on her face and it pulls at my heartstrings. I keep Holly pointed at Frank and push Dominic out of the way, causing my arm to be in the line of fire instead.

Pain erupts across the left side of my body as the bullet slices across my skin and I hiss at the discomfort as I swiftly move my gun away from Frank and shoot the perpetrator that just shot me.

"Get your gun, shoot Frank in the arm so that he can't shoot back at you, and then drag that fucker over here," I bark, glaring at Dominic, who's staring up at me in shock.

He immediately scurries around the car, doing as I've instructed and taking the small amount of time I have to lift the sleeve of my jumper and inspect the damage done to my arm.

I clench my jaw as fury seeps into my bones when I see the damage that the graze has done to the tattoo on my arm. I yank the sleeve back down and bolt around the car, my eyes locked onto Frank, who's currently being dragged across the concrete.

I raise Holly in front of me, aiming at his head and preparing to shoot him.

"Kaleb!" Jericho snaps from somewhere around me. "Put the fucking gun down!"

Red flashes across my vision as I feel blood leaking from my arm and seeping into the sleeve of my shirt. My chest heaves as I breathe through flared nostrils, battling with myself as to whether I should seek revenge and kill him or if I should do the logical thing and listen to Jericho.

"Kaleb!" Jericho shouts, this time from right beside me. "Hey, look at me."

He places his hand on the back of my neck and squeezes it lightly, but I don't dare move my eyes or my gun off of the mafia's capo.

"Kaleb, we need him. He can give us information," Jericho states.

"Put the gun down and then you can help me with torturing him," Leo suggests from behind me. "Surely that'd give you more satisfaction than just shooting him."

"Come on, Kaleb. I don't know what he's done but I need you to put the gun down."

"My tattoo," I snap, turning my icy glare away from Frank and onto my brother. "His guy shot me and it's fucked up my tattoo."

Jericho's brows crease as he glances down at my sleeve, seeing the blood seeping into the cotton. He rolls it up, lifting it enough to inspect the damage, and then he shakes his head and chuckles.

"Kaleb, it's just a scratch," he says, pulling my sleeve back down. "It's barely taken off any ink at all."

I grit my teeth, turn my attention back to Frank and pull the trigger, lodging a bullet into his other leg.

Sensing Jericho staring at me, I shrug and pocket my gun.

"It's just a scratch, Jer. It's barely made him bleed at all."

Leo chatters on as he drives through the gates that lead to Jericho's house whilst I sit in the passenger seat inspecting my bruised knuckles, picking off the dried, flakey bits of blood.

As he pulls up out front, I open my door and get out, not wanting to pretend to listen to whatever it is he's saying any longer. All I want at the moment is to check on my girl and make sure she's still safe and sound inside this fortress.

"Thanks for offering to help get him out of the boot, Kaleb, but I'm sure I'll be fine by myself," Leo says sarcastically, shaking his head.

"You're welcome," I retort, kicking the door shut and walking towards the house.

I walk into the house silently and creep up the stairs. I unzip my jacket, wrestling it off my body as I walk towards her room, screwing it up into a ball and dumping it outside in the hallway, leaving myself in a black long-sleeve top.

When I reach her door, I pause, listening for any noise through the door and after a few minutes of silence, I push my hand down on the handle, slowly opening the door and sneaking inside.

I close the door behind me as I stare at her sleeping form and a small smile graces my face when she releases a soft snore. I walk towards the bed, eyes locked on her face as I take a minute to admire her.

Even though her face is squished into the pillow, she still looks stunning. Her little button nose twitches and her plump lips part as she releases a sleepy sigh.

I crouch beside her as my eyes scan her features and lift my hand, cupping her face and stroking my thumb along her cheek. Her lips lift and she hums as she moves her face against my hand.

The longer I spend watching her and touching her, the harder I find it to pull myself away. After what feels like an hour, I take off my boots and walk around to the other side of the bed, no longer being able to hold myself back from what I really want to do.

I lift the covers and carefully climb onto the bed, scooting my body across the mattress until my chest is pressed firmly against her back. I drop the covers over my body, curl my legs against hers, and lightly rest my injured arm across her body, giving her a faint cuddle.

She stirs, moving backwards and pushing herself closer to me, so I take that as a sign and wrap my arm tightly around her, burying my head into her hair, smelling the delicious scent of vanilla shampoo that she uses.

Her body tenses and my eyes snap open, realising that she's now awake.

She tries to turn her body around, but I tighten my grip, keeping her in place.

"Don't move. It hurts my arm," I mutter.

She lifts her head slightly from the pillow, glancing down at the hand wrapped around her waist and she gasps, bolting upright, knocking my arm off of her, and scrambling for the lamp on her bedside table.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she hisses, staring at me with wide eyes.

I hiss and clutch my arm, pretending like I'm in a lot of pain.

"Ahh, fuck," I groan, cradling my arm against myself. "That fucking hurt."

"Kaleb, why are you in my room?" she snaps, grabbing a pillow from her bed and launching it at me.

"Hey, I've just told you that my arm hurts and you're now throwing a pillow at it? Do you want to cause me more pain?" I ask, whining as I fake a grimace. "I thought you'd be nicer to me, considering I've been shot."

Her eyes finally drop to my arm and she must see the darker patch of the sleeve from where the blood's soaked into the cotton and she gasps, lifting her hands to her mouth.

"You were shot?" she asks, her tone filled with concern.

"Yeah," I groan. "It hurts like a bitch and I'm pretty sure I'm going to lose my arm, so I wanted a cuddle to make me feel better, hoped it'd help it heal."

"Don't be so stupid!" she says, shaking her head as she steps towards the bed. "A cuddle isn't going to heal a gunshot wound you lunatic! We need to go clean it up and then get you to a hospital!"

She grabs my uninjured arm and attempts to tug me off the bed as her harried gaze flies around the room.

"Why hasn't someone already taken you to the hospital? Are you all fucking delusional? You'd get treated straight away, all you'd have to do is get Jericho to show his face and the doctors would come running," she rattles on, still trying to pull me off the bed.

I decide to help her, moving my body off of the mattress and standing in front of her as I smile, listening to her panicked rambling as she worries about me being injured.

She cares about me.

She cares about me enough to want to clean my arm.

She's angry at the fact I haven't gone to the hospital and that no one has helped me.

She's finally starting to feel a sliver of what I feel for her.

Her frenzied state as she drags me towards the bathroom is proof enough that she cares about me and that lights a fire inside of me, one that starts to melt my insides as I watch her rush over to the cupboard in the bathroom and grab a towel and the first aid kit.

She's finally starting to feel this impenetrable connection between us.

"Take this off so that I can clean your arm up," she instructs, tugging at the top I'm wearing.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by what she says and I glance at my covered arm as an unfamiliar pang of fear shoots through my body.

Will she like it?

Am I ready to bare my soul and tell her how deeply I feel for her?

Will this push her further away and make it harder for me to convince her we're meant to be?