Page 3 of The Love Obsession (Bloody Desires #11)

ZAYN WESTMORELAND

“This is charming.” I had to hustle to keep up with Moosey Bear.

God.

Moose.

What a name.

But he wasn’t a regular guy, either. He was fucking massive with shoulders that were damned near boulders. The way he filled out his T-shirt and jeans made me consider believing in God again because there seriously wasn’t much of an explanation for anything that perfect without divine intervention.

I didn’t really have a traditional type.

My type was anyone who would treat me well.

But there were better or worse people to be entangled with, and my fingers practically burned to get underneath the cloth hiding him from me.

I wanted to ruffle that short dark hair and kiss the button nose that would keep him looking young forever.

If only he weren’t a piece of shit drug dealer.

The reality of the situation cooled some of my lusty thoughts.

Moose wasn’t the usual for me, even when I did fuck a guy.

I’d just discovered him at one of my favorite bars and realized my “in” with him was pretending to be his boyfriend.

I always tried to play a good game, get a drug dealer to tell me about my next victim—one of his buddies—before I killed him and moved on.

A guy would tell his lover more than his best friend or trainer or personal chef—all things I had pretended to be in the past to get what I was after.

This new angle was something to get the old blood pumping.

A challenge .

My game was pretty simple. I’d been playing for about eight years now. There was one rule and one rule only. Once I picked a drug dealer, I had to get him to spill. He could whisper it in my ear, tell me over a deck of cards, or confide his secrets to me in a boardroom.

Then, I got to kill him, dig my hands into his chest and squeeze his heart till it stopped. That was my reward.

There was nothing like ending a life, especially the life of someone who hurt others.

It was satisfying like nothing else I’d ever experienced.

Yes, I was fucked in the head.

Yes, I was aware.

But I had rules to rein myself in. I could only play twice per year, which was a limit I set not only to protect myself but to allow the cops a chance to do their jobs.

Two deaths per year were below the statistics of most things that killed people regularly.

I was practically a natural phenomenon. Definitely less dangerous than traffic accidents.

The fluorescent lights above us buzzed and flickered, and I was equal parts creeped out and giddy about it. The cracked white tiles on the walls were so grungy I wouldn’t want to run my hands along them. There were smears that I swore might be blood.

“No one has ever brought me to an abandoned mental hospital on a date.” I stepped a bit closer to Moose and heat radiated off him. Fuck, I would love to get under him or on top of him. The long eerie hallway was chilly, and he would warm me up.

“Not a date,” he said gruffly. He glared at me for a second, and I got lost in his brown eyes.

“Whatever this is, then.” I rubbed the back of my neck and pulled my red Zippo out of my pocket, flicking the metal lid back and forth to burn off some energy before shoving it away where it belonged.

There was no time like the present to start the game. Some part of me had pinged in the bar. There was no going back. This time Moose was the one I played against. No matter how long it took or how difficult this turned out to be, he was my opponent.

And I would win.

I brushed my left hand against his right as we walked, stroking my fingers up to his wrist, and he jerked back a step, giving me a long look out of the corner of his eye.

“What are you doing?” His fingers twitched as if I’d burned him.

“Considering holding your hand.” I shot him a smile. Come on. Take the bait, you scumbag.

Nothing. Not a flicker of interest. No, wait, his nostrils flared. His shoulders hitched. Usually, by this point the men I flirted with were well on their way to swooning. But not him. Interesting. I guess a guy who didn’t have a problem selling drugs to kids would be a hard case to crack.

Cardinal had told me all about him, said he was the worst of the worst.

“Why?” he asked.

I blinked up at him and stumbled, my palm landing on that cold tiled wall. A chill shot through me.

He put a hand on my shoulder, and I realized how big it was because he was able to brush my neck with his thumb and touch the beginning of my upper arm at the same time. “Because ... people enjoy holding hands?”

He shook his head as we turned right into a set of swinging double doors.

The murky brown floor tiles made my dress shoes echo as we walked toward a beat-up wooden desk in the center that might’ve been hijacked from a college dorm.

The room was an old community shower that had been converted, sort of, into a locker room.

The walls that weren’t blocked by rusting metal lockers were the same brown tile as the floor.

Here and there silver showerheads poked down from the ceiling.

A man about the size of a small T. rex slouched in a yellow leather chair behind the desk.

His tank top showed off more tattoos than an entire crew of sailors would possess.

Someone nearby was hunched on a metal bench smoking, so as Moose walked closer to the desk and bent over a clipboard, I shook a cigarette out of my pack and stuck it in the corner of my mouth.

When no one shouted to stop, I lit up and took a deep puff of smoke that burned the back of my throat.

A man who was probably a foot taller than the Incredible Hulk shambled up to me with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He squinted at me out of one eye and the other was swollen shut. His hoodie was ripped and his jeans were splotched with blood.

“Hey, buddy, you mind?” He gestured at my cigarette, and I passed it over before I got myself another one. He nodded and stumbled out the doors we’d entered through, but my stomach swooped as he lurched.

He’d been beaten halfway to hell.

What sort of place was this? I’d never met a drug dealer who wasn’t a selfish piece of shit. I couldn’t imagine one willingly putting their head on the chopping block.

Across the room, another set of doors swung inward, and a twig-thin guy staggered through looking perfectly normal—if this were a morgue.

He was dressed in sweats and sneakers. That might’ve been typical enough, but he was bleeding from his nose, mouth, one eye, and both ears.

He listed forward, and before he could fall, two men caught him.

I expected some alarm.

Perhaps shouting.

Definitely a first aid kit, bare minimum.

All they did was drag him to a drain in the center of the floor and toss him next to it. Gravity directed the blood oozing from his orifices down the pipes. A man in a classy gray suit paced close to the poor asshole as Moose leaned in to murmur something to the man at the desk.

“You give me two rounds?” The guy in the suit nudged the poor sucker bleeding all over the floor with the tip of his shiny black shoe, then grimaced and wiped it off on a section of Mr. Unlucky’s shirt that wasn’t stained red yet.

“Pathetic. You need to do this again. I did not get my money’s worth.

That might be the shortest fight on record. ”

This was a bad man, no doubt. But unless he was peddling smack, I didn’t give a shit.

The man on the floor moaned but didn’t raise his head. Didn’t blink. A tooth rolled out of his mouth as his lips moved in a vain effort to speak. It clattered down to rest on the drain grill.

“Think he’s done for, Mr. Uhlig,” the man at the desk called over. “Three-day-old hot dogs are more alive than that.”

A big bruiser shoved the doors open and came to stand near what I presumed was his victim. There wasn’t a hair out of place on his very blond head. His cheeks weren’t flushed. There was a red stain on his jeans, but I was pretty sure none of the blood was his.

My head rushed and my heart felt lighter. What the hell had I wandered into?

“That was nothing.” He spat on the guy.

Was this what children felt like when they first walked through the gates at an amusement park? First heard about Santa Claus bringing them presents? Where on earth was I?

“I agree.” Uhlig tucked his hands into his pockets and spun on his heel.

His salt-and-pepper hair was combed to the side in a classic Hollywood style that made him seem extra out of place in this room.

He grinned, flashing perfect white teeth.

“Moose is here, though! What an unexpected surprise! And he’s always a challenge.

” He nodded in our direction. “His friend looks like a good time, too.” Uhlig winked.

My breath caught and my dick tingled, not due to the attention from this sexy stranger, but because Moose’s jaw hardened. He didn’t like someone else flirting with me. I was already on my way to victory with him.

“No way. I came with my Moosey Bear.” I jerked a thumb at Moose.

“Are you sure?” Uhlig blasted a playful smile in my direction, but I already had my victim picked out.

I had a job to do now, and I wouldn’t be distracted by a suave man in a suit.

I never got sidetracked once I had a goal.

Work, gym, or the game, I always kept my promises to myself. I played by the rules I set.

“Moose’ll have to do, then. Get moving, kid!” Uhlig clapped his hands and the noise echoed around the strange room.

Moose glanced up from whatever he was signing and nodded, grim determination making his jaw stick out.

I snagged his hand, and he looked down as if he was going to gnaw off his own wrist to get away, but there was an appreciative glint in his eye. This man had so many peculiar layers. I was enraptured at the idea of peeling them apart.

“Don’t take too long or I might run off with that one over there.” I tilted my head at Uhlig. “He was already making eyes at me.”