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Deadly Obsession (The Obsession Duet #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

J.L. Beck

Cassandra Hallman

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B084VTVVWJ
Book Information:

I thought the worst was behind us.

Little did I know the worst was yet to come.

***This is a continuation of Cruel Obsession and is NOT a standalone.***

Books in Series:

The Obsession Duet Series by J.L. Beck

Books by Author:

J.L. Beck

Cassandra Hallman

1

Cinder blocks weigh my eyes down. I attempt to roll over but every muscle in my body tenses. It feels like I’ve been tossed off a ten-story building, landing flat on my back. Groaning into the air, my fingertips graze something soft, a sheet…or blanket. I don’t know, but it’s not cold or hard. Shifting, I realize I’m no longer on the cold concrete but somewhere else. Confusion clouds my mind.

“Shhh, the police are on their way. Everything is going to be okay. They’ll find the person who shot you.” A voice soothes, but that’s not the effect it has on me, and instantly my eyes snap open. Frenzied, I look around the room. The smell of antiseptic assaults my senses, and I piece the puzzle together very quickly.

Hospital. I’m in the hospital. The same hospital where Christian left me in the parking garage to die. Joke’s on him though, because I’m not going to die. At least not today. Pain erupts across my body, and my muscles protest as I push off the bed and stand on unsteady feet.

“Sir, you need to lie down!” The nurse rushes over to me, her eyes panicked but I pin her with a dark look that promises pain, and she stops in her tracks. I don’t say shit as I walk out of the room, my body screaming at me, begging me to turn around and go lie down.

That’s not an option. Dove needs me. Fuck. I failed her. I let him get to her. I can’t imagine what he’s doing to her right now. Touching her. Breaking her. She’s too fragile for a man like Christian. Like thin glass, he’ll shatter her with a single touch.

My heart thrashes in my chest. Revenge. I need it. I’ll take it. I’ll bathe in his fucking blood for touching her and if he does anything to her. If there is a single hair out of place on her head… I can’t allow myself to think that.

Hobbling out of the hospital, I get a barrage of dirty looks and some shocked ones as I pass people. Looking down at my shirt, I realize the entire thing is soaked in blood. All I can do is shrug because I don’t give a fuck. My side is burning with each step I take, and I’m dizzy as hell. If I’m going to be there to save Dove, to save us, then I’m going to need to find a way to get this bullet removed. As I walk—to where I have no fucking idea—I play over in my head what Christian told me.

The Castro’s, the rival mob family to the Sergio’s, is the reason he wants Dove dead. But why? Who is Dove to the Castro’s? Gritting my teeth, I know exactly what I’m going to have to do and that I’m going to fucking hate every second of it. The last thing I want is to leave Dove in Christian’s hands any longer than I have to, but even with the raged haze that surrounds my head, I know there isn’t any way I can save her if I go in there guns blazing by myself.

I need weapons, a plan, and to get this goddamn bullet out of my side and stop the bleeding before I really do die. Which means I’ll have to go to the Castro family. Sagging against a nearby wall, I squeeze my eyelids closed, and force myself to breathe through my nose. The pain in my side is nothing compared to the way my heart feels in my chest right now. Even though it’s hard as hell, I force myself not to think about Dove in that instant. Shrugging out of my shirt, I take the fabric and press it against my side as hard as I can. My fist clenches and pain radiates across my skin. It feels like razor blades are slicing through my flesh, leaving deep cuts in their wake. My eyes flutter closed, and I force myself to think about anything but the pain. Shutting down is my only option right now.

Car. Weapon. Castro’s. In that order. Pushing off the wall, I continue limping my way down to the car. By the time I reach the car, there is a sheen of sweat on my forehead, and my muscles are protesting with each and every step I take. Swallowing the pain down, I open the car door and slide inside. Sagging against the seat, I start up the car and lean over the center console ripping open the glove box.

Pulling out the gun that I keep there just in case, I check to see how many bullets I have and then place it down beside me. Backing out of the parking spot, the tires squeal as I take the twists and turns to get out of this labyrinth of a place.


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