Page 26 of Their Stolen Obsession (Phantoms and Obsession Duet #2)

Her Predator

Sin

W e made it to the location of Saint’s tracking device. The sun had set, and darkness crept in after we got out of the city. The address was in a rural area, and nothing was busy out here.

Crickets chirped in the night as the sound of a faint engine rolled by and disappeared into the abyss. A dog barked in the distance, but I couldn’t be sure where. We were in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. The perfect spot for a criminal family to stay hidden and conduct their illegal activities.

After Saint’s childlike breakdown, I half expected him to want dessert. The baby boy had been starved. He required food in his achy belly to soothe him, but he had no appetite for a sweet treat. He was clearheaded and ready to destroy.

I sat on the hood of the car after I had parked it by an enormous maple tree on the side of the road.

There was a clearing down a one-way dirt path which led toward Pitrone territory, and we’d walk the shortcut to keep away from the main lane inside.

We’d surprise the bastards. The enemy wouldn’t know what hit them.

The grand scheme was to take out any cameras, kill all armed guards protecting the outskirts of the property, stay as quiet as predators hunting their prey, and pounce when the time was right. Piece of fucking cake.

“I’m expecting a dozen guards, but it’s dusk…” I said as I stood up and made my way to the trunk. “There has to be at least one idiot falling asleep on the job.”

Saint gave a low chuckle as he loaded a handgun and placed it in his waistband. “Agreed.”

“How many of these damn things are you going to need?” I asked, eyeing the gun collection.

“I’m always prepared,” Saint answered as he stuffed cartridges of bullets into his pockets.

“Well, shit, let me at ’em.” I grabbed several rounds of extra ammunition on top of the two handguns, knife, switchblade, boomerang, and a couple of hand grenades .

I’d love to carry a flamethrower around twenty-four seven. Those were awesome. Light anything on fire in a matter of seconds.

“Are you ready?” Saint asked as he peered at me with destructive eyes and placed his hand on the trunk lid.

“Abso-fucking-lutly.” I grinned and helped him close the back hatch.

We set out on foot. We were thirsty for blood, ready to kill. Our eyes were on high alert as we made our way in further, but a sound of a snapping twig caught our attention.

Immediately, Saint turned toward the noise as he drew his gun and almost shot an innocent bunny. The wild animal’s nose twitched as it sniffed the air and took a bite off a leaf in a bush before it hopped away after its late-night snack.

My excitement prevented the cold from bothering me.

My brain waves worked overtime as I scanned the scenery around me and listened for any unfamiliar noises.

I was prepared for anything to happen on a rescue mission.

I breathed for the danger, the temptation of death, and the thrill of snapped necks.

We were close. There was no turning back and nothing could stop us.

Not even the thought of the destruction we might find when we found Liv, and she was back in our arms. We’d deal with whatever damage those assholes had done.

We’d heal Liv’s broken soul and put her back together again. Piece by fucking piece. Liv was strong.

“Coast is clear. You?” I whispered, condensation misting in front of my face.

“Nothing but crickets,” Saint answered in a quiet tone. “And a pesky rabbit.”

We had been walking for ten minutes since I checked the time last, and the joint was closer. My adrenaline kicked up a notch, my hands clenched into fists. I was ready for war—the battle of my life because Liv was my lifeline. She was everything.

Suddenly, I got pulled to my right, and a punch connected with my left cheek. Shit. I didn’t even see the bastard. Someone had discovered us.

Whoever this prick was, he was good. Too excellent. Extremely trained.

Stunned, I stumbled backward, and I got ready to retaliate.

Saint beat me to the punch. He threw a right hook and was out for blood.

His fist contacted flesh, and there was a slight grunt from our attacker, but the blow didn’t sway him.

The asshole came at me with a punch, and I dodged the hit in time.

Quickly, I reacted. A kick toward his face, but I missed, and he blocked it with his forearm. Damn.

Oh, no. Our attacker grabbed onto my leg and pulled, twisting my body into a spin toward the ground. I ate the dirt. Motherfucker! This guy was an expert.

Direct. Focused. Fast.

Grit mixed with the taste of blood in my mouth as I went to get up and saw Saint take a turn. He went at him. Hard. Punch after kick. The guy blocked each hit, but Saint never gave up.

I was ready to go at this dickhead from his backside until his movements stopped me. He reminded me of myself, stuck in combat for his life. Unable to back down until one of us was dead. It was as if he was at war on the battlefield, trained to be an armed soldier, a weapon meant for destruction.

The man, this enemy, was all too familiar, and I questioned him with narrowed eyes. “Zane?”

Immediately, he froze, and Saint kicked him in the face. His head recoiled. He shuffled backward, unbalanced, but he didn’t falter. The fighting stopped.

“What the hell did you say?” Saint glanced at me and exhaled heavily.

Saint panted out into the nighttime and the sound of crickets set back in. My heartbeat stopped pounding in my ears, and I found clarity as I stared at the man who I was sure I knew.

I repeated, “Zane? Zane Adler?”

“No fucking way,” Saint whispered in shock. “Zane? You’ve got to be shitting me. ”

Our mystery man wouldn’t speak. He only stood there and pulled something out of his pocket. Shit. I was wrong.

Prepared to fight, I grabbed my knife. A quick move for my life.

His gun would go off any second and he could hit us both before I sliced his throat.

My guess? A bullet to my head and one in Saint’s neck.

This asshole couldn’t take a chance we were with the cops and wore bullet-proof vests.

He was way too fucking smart to risk us getting past him.

Two shots fired and our mission would be over, but we couldn’t have that.

I went to lunge for him but froze. The dickhead lit a lighter. A Zippo, to be exact.

“Well, I’ll be damned. If it ain’t the luckiest sons of bitches I’ve ever met,” Zane said as he lit a cigar, and the bright glow revealed his face. “Besides myself, that is.”

“Holy shit.” Saint blew a low whistle.

A whiplash shockwave of memories hit me. Smacked me in the face and torture hit me like a crash I never saw coming. Torment I had survived for years, locked away in my nightmares, where I kept them trapped in deep slumber. Reality was a cold, hard bitch and flashbacks transported me back in time.