Page 26 of The Love Obsession (Bloody Desires #11)

“Dad, you have customers.” Prosper shot us a pitying look as he fled, and I didn’t blame him one bit. How long had he been living this way? No, getting rid of this asshole would help a whole heap of people.

The man who opened the door could’ve been an older version of his son if Prosper had stopped working out or eating regular meals.

Goldie’s messy graying blond hair was up in a bun.

The stained green tank top he wore billowed around him, and the legs sticking out of his shorts were sinewy, without an ounce of fat on them.

Suspicion gleamed in his bloodshot eyes and he trained a gun on me in less than a second.

“Shit!” My breath caught.

“Who are you?” Goldie glanced between us.

Keaton was so fast I barely had time to register he’d tensed. His fist slammed Goldie’s face, and the old man went flying onto his ass. The gun skittered across the floor, and I didn’t see where it landed. My heart kickstarted into double time.

“You don’t sell meth to the trailer park ever again!” Spit flew from Keaton’s mouth and his eyes were wild. His muscles strained with the effort of keeping himself in check.

He was fucking magnificent. My heart was going to burst with some wonderful sensation I was becoming obsessed with.

“Which one?” Goldie cupped his injured face with a hand, looking baffled, as if he hadn’t expected we would take offense to having a gun shoved in our faces.

“Lakeview,” Keaton growled.

Goldie nodded, and Keaton spun, stomping off, my sexy fucking ogre.

Jesus. Christ.

There wasn’t much for me to add, so I bolted after Keaton until I was at his side. Purple and red flowers brushed against our legs as we nearly ran through the meadow. Damn, he was pissed off.

“I could’ve fucking killed that guy,” he said, hands clenching into fists.

“Would that have been so bad?” I said, mostly to myself, but he heard and raised an eyebrow in my direction. He chuckled at my “joke,” but I was serious. No reason to let him know that.

In less than five minutes we were on the road away from the absolute head trip that was Gold Mind and Body Spa.

“Are you feeling better?” I asked from my spot behind the wheel. The road spun away ahead of me, and I had a surreal feeling. I wanted to keep driving forever. The tidal wave in my brain wanted to swamp me, but I refused to stay stuck in thoughts of Mom. Dad. Their sad, strange end to life.

He glanced at me. “No. Goldie’s alive. Mom’s gone.”

“There are solutions for that.”

This time my words hung in heavy silence.

Keaton had taken some bereavement time from work, which meant he didn’t have much to worry about for a couple of weeks. Once we were home, I sent him to lie down because his head was obviously still killing him, but he was too stubborn to admit it.

That afternoon, Mrs. Carmine stayed for dinner after watching Ginny for us while we’d gone on our little excursion, and it was surprisingly a nice time. Before I knew it, one game of tag and a bath and about seven books later, Ginny was sound asleep.

Keaton looked exhausted. He’d been quieter than usual all evening, and the urge to do something for him had been building until I couldn’t ignore it.

“Why don’t you go to bed?” I asked, kissing his temple near the shrinking goose egg that had darkened to a vibrant bruise.

He nodded and we went upstairs together. It wasn’t a shock that he fell asleep faster than Ginny. I waited about a half hour to make sure he was down for the count, then got ready to go on the hunt.

Thankfully, I hadn’t had time to remove my toys from my office upstairs. Dressed in tactical black, I went out.

I’d searched online until I’d found Roger’s home address.

He’d bought the house three years ago. The fun thing about public records was how very public they were.

Anyone could access them if they knew where to look.

I didn’t just park a few blocks away. That was amateur hour.

I left the car a few miles from my next victim and walked in.

Once I hit Roger’s neighborhood, I slipped on a face mask and gloves, then kept to the shadows.

The security at the house was a joke. There wasn’t even an alarm. I broke into the kitchen by popping out a screen and crawling through a window. I jostled a knife block on my trip to the floor, and when I stood, I grabbed a butcher’s knife with a grin, twirling it in my gloved hands.

Perhaps it was overkill. It wasn’t my usual style, but that was all right. It wouldn’t do for the police to tie my handiwork together.

That good feeling from earlier surged inside me. I finally had a name for it— love .

I loved Keaton.

I was doing this for him.

This vengeance wasn’t to soothe my own bullshit. This wasn’t to allow me to block out my past for another day. No, this was all to make Keaton’s life better, even if he never realized the man who’d hurt him was six feet under.

My first kill for another person.

As I found the bedroom, where Roger lay sleeping the sleep of the soon to be gone from this fucking world, I considered him. I would make this gruesome. He’d hurt Keaton, abused him, and he would pay in blood.

And he’d beg for me to end his life before I was finished.

Hours later, I was exhausted as I climbed into bed beside Keaton, fresh out of the shower.

He stirred, cute face slack with sleep. “Where were you?” he murmured.

“I let Bernadette out to take care of doggy business,” I whispered.

He smiled and gathered me close in those strong arms. “Thanks.”

Kissing his neck was so simple. I loved the warm, smooth skin close to his stubble. “No worries. I’ll take care of you.” I love you. It was right there on the tip of my tongue, and I wanted to say it so bad.

But what if I just chased him away with it? My gut twisted. An unfamiliar panic had Keaton hushing me and rubbing my back as I tensed against his front. No, he had to say the I love you s first. That was the only way this would work.

“Good night,” he murmured in my ear.

Shit, what was I going to do?