Obsession (A Bad Boy's Secret Baby)(62)

Flora wasn't hooked on any drugs, but she was still a junkie. She would chase her sister until it killed her. Fucking junkies.

One day, they really were going to kill me.

I needed to leave. I couldn't look at her anymore, I'd had enough failures for one lifetime.

“Are you going to lock me in again?” she asked.

I reached into my pocket and fished out the room's only key. Sparing her a quick glance, I flicked it to her before pushing the door open further and leaving completely. The sound of the straining hinge swinging the door wide was all the company I wanted on the long walk down the relatively short hallway.

I should've sent Roach up to deal with her laundry.

It'd been a mistake to go back into that room. I'd been making a lot of those, lately.

“I don't know what the hell you were doing in the kitchen, but make sure you clean up, you were using cookware that I didn't know I even had.” Roach's words wafted into the foyer, riding on an aroma of eggs and cheese from the breakfast I'd prepared while washing Flora's clothing.

Roach wore a poorly tailored, cuffed shirt with a satin vest that was a size too large—and that demanded a tie to accompany it—which was, considering who was wearing it, expectantly absent. Roach was a reptile in a human suit, playing at class and dignity while never fully understanding either meaning.

It must have been my expression, or the way I carried myself, but at the sight of me he stopped texting and closed his phone. He asked, “Everything all right up there? I take it your junkie friend didn't put out, huh?”

“I need another day,” I replied briskly, not breaking stride as I walked by him.

“What?” he blurted out loudly, his unusually chipper tone fizzling. “I—I can't do that!”

I stopped, turning to face him. My eyes narrowed, telling him in no uncertain terms to lower his fucking voice. The walk down the hallway may have felt long, but it really wasn't. With the door now wide open, the last thing I wanted Flora to hear was that I was pushing the pickup back.

I'd been running through the possibilities, but now, I was sure I knew what waited for Flora. It was much smarter for them to just retire her early rather than to worry about any connection she may have formed with me. I could sugarcoat it any way I wanted, but the raw truth was that they weren't picking her up to sell her, they were tying off a loose end.

The Knights were going to kill Flora.

Despite what was at stake for me, and the fact that I didn't know much about her, I didn't think I had it in me to watch them roll up and shoot her in the face. I was a selfish, prideful bastard, but it was the murdering of innocence that stayed with me, stubbornly refusing to be drowned in alcohol and pussy. It's what kept me awake in the small hours of the morning.

I wasn't looking for absolution. If Heaven did exist I probably wouldn’t see it. I just wanted to be able to sleep at night without the wrong person's blood on my hands. This whole thing was partially my fault. I had to figure out a way where she at least has some hope of surviving all of this, and for that, I needed a little more time.

“Tell the Knights that something came up and to pick her up tomorrow, instead.”

“You're not thinking of canceling, are you? No.” Roach shook his head and took up a stubborn tone. “I already told them! This is happening, I can't just change—”

I grabbed Roach by his ill-fitting, pompous white collar. “Come on, Lewis, you're good at working the angles, right?” Then I pulled him close enough for him to feel the hot breath of my adamant definitiveness on his beady, little eyes. “Figure it the fuck out,” I growled quietly through clenched teeth.

I didn't care how he did it. This wasn't a discussion open to debate, this was a command to be carried out.

Staring him down, I watched his steadfast resolve slip away like water down a shower drain. When he finally nodded, I shoved him aside and made my way towards the kitchen.

“Jesus...” Roach muttered under his breath when I was a safe distance away. He fixed his collar and added, “What the fuck happened to you?”

What did happen to me? My life used to be painlessly simple. I was the fucking breeze, just rolling in and out of towns whenever I pleased, beholden to no one but my pres. I wore my intentions on my sleeve and always knew the score. There was beauty in that, that utter simplicity.

Then Flora burrowed her way into my head and began clouding my decision making.

Roach didn't have much in the way of groceries left over from the weekend, but he did have a large, full kitchen to play with and enough ingredients left over to make due.

I always loved cooking. It was the one thing that relaxed me the most. The more chaotic and stressful my life was at the moment, the more elaborate I made my food to compensate. It allowed me to focus on the immediate and forget about all my other problems.