Arran’s Obsession (Body Count, #1)

With her arms folded and spiked nails out, Alisha stared me down across the office, her anger undented even though we’d gone over each of her gripes in detail.

The fights between clubgoers in Divide wasn’t unusual, and the perpetrators had been banned.

The cops who came here for me led to Detective Dickhead tracking me down. They often scoped the club, making the police chief appear like he was monitoring us for the good of the public. No big deal.

The only concern I shared was for the drug dealer spotted on Divide’s floor. Then again, those guys were easy to pick out. Nearly always alone, wearing jackets despite the sweltering heat of packed bodies, and standing in plain sight of the crowd. The guy was undoubtedly one of the Four Milers, and I needed to handle them for multiple reasons.

Just another day in the office.

Yet my old friend paced the floor as if motorised. “The problem is, Arran, you’re not taking me seriously. You weren’t here for any of it, and with Convict out, you left me no backup. You don’t seem to care.”

“Shade was here for the most part. Manny has your back.”

“Shade has his own priorities, and it wasn’t the same without you here. I didn’t feel safe. On top of that, you allowed me to tell my staff that you were mine.”

I raised my hands. “And?”

“I look like a fool!”

“I don’t care about gossip,” I snapped. “Gen and I revealed our relationship today. Tell them you were covering for me as a kindness to protect my privacy. Or make something else up. What does it matter?”

“It’s my reputation.”

“Still don’t understand the issue or why you’re stressing.” I glanced at Shade who leaned on the brick wall by the window.

He twisted his lips, but worry crinkled his brow. Alisha was the steadier one amongst us. She managed the strip club and the floor above with no sweat. Tackling suppliers, settling drama among the workers, all within her remit and never a problem.

I was trying to be understanding, but she was giving me nothing. “Is something else going on?”

“Don’t blame this shit on me. You’re the one who ran off after a woman.”

“I didn’t just run off. I took my woman away for a week.”

She made a noise of disgust. “Explain to me what happened with Convict. Why did he disappear on the same night?”

I closed my mouth. I had plans to deal with him but no time yet.

Alisha homed in on the gaping maw of lacking information. “It’s to do with that girl, isn’t it?”

“Do you have a problem with Genevieve?”

“Do I?” Alisha spat. “Genevieve this, that, and everything. I see how it’s going to be. Any club business and your mind is going to be between her legs.”

I rose, my fingertips spread on my hardwood desk. After Genevieve left, I’d changed into the black suit I wore if I was to be seen around the club’s interior and shifted back into boss mode like a glove. “Because of our history, I’m going to pretend you didn’t disrespect us. This conversation is done. I’m sure the club needs your attention more than I need to hear your jealousy.”

“You think I’m jealous? Know what? You’re just like the chief with his addiction for little blonde things.” Alisha gave me one last furious, incredulous look and swept away in a cloud of expensive perfume, slamming the door closed at her back.

The dust settled.

A bolt of unexpected anger crawled through me, starting slow but building. Just like the chief? She meant my dad who’d bought her for me and probably abused her himself. That’s what she thought of me?

Shade whistled low. “Handled that well.”

My reply was barely more than a snarl. “Don’t.”

“I told ye she was angry; ye somehow turned that into her being jealous. Trying to piss her off more?”

“What else am I supposed to think? Then she has the nerve to spit that shite at me? I’m not like him,” I bit out.

Shade eyed me. “Your da? Pretty sure she doesnae think that. She spoke out of line, but fuck if I know why.”

Yet that accusation hit and blew up a kernel of doubt I’d always had about myself. I’d watched my father’s ways and vowed to be nothing like him. I’d set my world up to be the opposite to his. But the way I fucking yearned for Genevieve had me thinking different. At the flesh auctions, Dad would fight for the ‘little blonde things’, as Alisha put it. He’d forget everything else apart from winning the woman.

The way I felt right now, I’d probably throw myself off a cliff for Genevieve.

What if Alisha was right?

“While we have a quiet minute, there’s a few things I need to update ye on.” Shade crossed the room so he was in my eyeline rather than at my back. “The guy Genevieve named, Don, is nowhere to be found. People talked about him, but no one could give me a location.”

“He’s a member of the Four Milers, though?”

“Badge-wearing, flag-flying. Yet Convict’s been watching them and couldn’t find the guy. He’s desperate to talk to ye, by the way.”

“Did he give an update on Genevieve’s father?”

“Yes, but⁠—”

“I’ll hear it from you.”

Shade studied me for a moment, no doubt judging my worsening mood and deciding not to push me. “He checked out Sydney’s address. Sydney’s ma came and went, but he didn’t see her. I took over so he could move on to the next target, but didn’t find much more than the fact her room still looks lived-in.”

I didn’t want to know how he’d seen the inside of her bedroom. Sydney and her mother lived in a tower block. Shade had balls of fucking steel.

And my friend’s darkening expression told me there was worse to come.

“Convict discovered that she and Genevieve’s dad had been at the Four Milers’ compound.” His words landed like bombs. “They were seen by a friendly local. Not only that, but they then went on to meet with someone from the Zombies.”

Fuck. Of course her dad was thick in it, buddying up to not one but both of the rival gangs to mine. What the fuck had I got myself into with her?

“When was this?”

“Convict said he’ll tell you himself if ye call. He stopped sharing with me.”

I dropped my head back on my seat. Dark emotion boiled under my skin. I needed to compartmentalise and handle my crew. I hadn’t told Shade why I’d iced out Convict, but he was one of the few I could trust.

I dialled Convict on a video call, setting my phone on my desk.

“Arran, thank fuck,” my disgraced crew member answered. He was in his car, darkness around him, no engine sound. A black bandanna covered his throat—a skeleton one but reversed.

“You were asked to track down Adam Walker,” I named Genevieve’s father. “Give me an update.”

“Sure thing, boss. But can I ask something first? For a week, you haven’t picked up my calls. What did I do?” Convict moved the camera so it gave a view of his arm and the snake tattoo that had given him away.

It took me back to the game. To his hands on Genevieve. In my head, I replayed what I’d seen when I ran in, and dangerous rage challenged my reason.

“You broke my rules,” I said, cold.

His mouth opened. Then he shut it again, whatever he’d intended to say clearly stalling out. “What are you accusing me of?”

“Either confess it or I’ll assume you’ve been fucking me over in multiple ways.”

Convict’s eyes widened. “I swear to fucking God I haven’t. You mean the game night. When I went into the basement. That’s all I’ve done, nothing else.”

“Fuck,” Shade drawled. “What were ye thinking, man? That’s well out of bounds.”

“I wanted what they’d all signed up for,” he blurted. Desperation laced his tone. “Just to try it out. You did, too, Arran. You went in and claimed a woman. You wanted the same⁠—”

“I should put you through the fucking wall,” Shade snarled.

I held up a hand. Instantly, both men silenced.

“The fact I went in, too, Convict, is the only reason you’re still breathing.” I was a hypocrite and I wouldn’t hide from that, though I was still the leader of this crew and needed to manage him in a way I hadn’t myself.

Convict ducked his head but nodded. “You have every right. I didn’t know who she was to you, and I heard after that she’d gone in there by accident. I recognised her from when she’d applied for a job, so I didn’t understand why the two of you… I mean, congratulations on the claiming. When I see your woman, I’ll apologise to her. It was all a misunderstanding.”

“You’ll keep your distance, and there was no misunderstanding. You went into that basement after agreeing to my rules. Therefore, you wilfully disobeyed them.”

“I swear on my dead mother’s grave, I’ve never broken your trust aside from that. Please don’t cut me off. Without the club, I’ve got nothing.”

Despite the history we shared and how he’d been a friend for a long while, the right thing to do was cut him loose from my crew. The human side, the part of me that had always wanted people to trust and take care of, was the only reason I didn’t jump to that.

But also, there was a darker reason: Convict was an ally or an enemy. I didn’t need more of the latter.

“You’re operating under a strike against you,” I concluded instead. “Do everything I ask without argument and you might have a chance to earn a place back in this building. Until then, you’re on the streets. If I hear one more thing about your loyalty that makes me regret my faith, I’ll handle you myself. And stay away from Genevieve. You scared her in what was already a terrifying situation. For that alone, I should fucking end you.”

He gave a subdued nod of acceptance. “Understood. Thank you. I won’t let you down.”

I instructed him to proceed with his report, and he described how he’d traced Genevieve’s father from hanging out with Sydney two weeks ago to a sighting in Four Milers’ territory and then with the Zombies only four days back.

“Find out what he did there,” I ordered.

Though in my mind, that answer was limited to a few options. The Four Milers ran drugs and the Zombies guns. A go-between would be taking one to the other and that was a risky, shitty job. It had me believing Genevieve’s father was aiming for membership of the Four Milers, presumably after being introduced by Sydney who’d already been tempted away.

I needed better proof than my guesswork. It didn’t explain the missing money, so there was a hole in my logic.

With Convict’s assurance of finding out more and proving his value, I hung up the call.

Shade cursed him out. “I can’t believe he did that.”

“You were seen scoping a councillor,” I snapped at him in turn, my mood still miserable.

“The hell I was.”

“Kenney came to me to warn me off.”

Shade’s humour vanished. “I’ve been fucking with the mayor, but I wasn’t seen. He knew I was there because I wanted him to. He ran to the cops for that? Fucking spineless dick. Unlike ye to pander to him.”

I could hardly respond, mired in a murderous haze made of Convict’s findings and Alisha’s bullshit. Or maybe it was my own making, and she was just calling it as she saw it.

Little blonde things. Obsessed. Fuck that.

A tap came at the door, and I yelled for whoever to come in. My chief of security entered, Genevieve behind him.

My mouth fucking dried. With her hair done and a tight dress encasing every curve, she looked phenomenal. Glossy, and classy as fuck.

My blood heated and flooded my dick. The bomb could go off in my club and I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off her.

Obsessed didn’t even start to describe it. Horror darkened the edge of my vision. Alisha was right. If this was how my dad had been, I was just like him.

Genevieve stepped forward, her happy excitement dimming as she took in my glower. “I thought we could go on the tour, but you’re probably busy. I’ll go dancing with Lara instead.”

Denial slammed down like a cage around me. “No. I’ll take you.”

“You don’t have to if you’re deep in something.” Her gaze touched a clock on the wall then lingered on my photo beside it. There was a pause, and she came back to me. “We still have an hour to be apart. I’ll come back, or you can find me.”

“Weren’t you listening? I said I’ll take you.”

Genevieve blinked, then clenched her jaw. “Maybe I’d rather go on my own.”

“Unluckily for both of us, we don’t have a choice.”

I rounded the desk and claimed her hand. She tried to free her fingers, but I clamped them in mine. I should tell her she was pretty, a fucking knockout, but feeding that obsession would only make things worse.

Instead, I stormed out of the office with Genevieve in tow, and a worried-looking group of three pursuing us. Through the corridors, I stomped until we came to the internal door that divided the two halves of the warehouse, then I paused to enter the passcode.

The door opened to Divide, the pulsing bass of dance music a shock wave in the air and the black walls wet with humidity. Ahead was a packed dance floor, close to a thousand strangers crammed together and the mixed scent of sweat and perfume hanging over them. I rarely came in here unless it was to see staff or get my knuckles bloodied breaking up a fight. Never seeking entertainment.

Genevieve twisted to say something to Lara, who frowned and gestured that she couldn’t hear. The song switched, and a small torrent of clubgoers descended on the bar, cups of water and plastic pints of beer changing hands.

Manny touched my arm then pointed up a flight of steps to the VIP lounge. With Genevieve’s hand still held tightly in mine, I drew her along with me to the steps where one of the staff opened the red rope barrier and ushered us upstairs. At the top, the hostess directed us to a booth with a view down to the dance floor. Genevieve and I sat in the centre with Lara and Shade bracketing us and Manny standing guard at a discreet distance away.

It was slightly quieter up here, enough to make out a fast-appearing waiter’s drink order request.

I put my mouth to Genevieve’s ear. She smelled too fucking good. “What do you want?”

“Freedom from you and world peace.” She smiled sweetly.

“Espresso martini,” I decided, banking on her caffeine addiction. Then added one for myself. I never drank on duty, but my head was fucked. “Macallan, straight up.” Our most expensive Scotch.

The rest of my crew requested water, and our waiter slipped away, leaning over the bar to speak in the ear of the bartender, whose skeleton-print t-shirt was the club’s casual uniform. No doubt I was the subject of their gossip. Nothing about this was normal.

A beat hit, and Genevieve sat forward as if recognising the song. She slid a glance my way. “Dance with me?”

I shook my head once.

“Then you don’t mind if I dance with someone else?”

“If it’s a man, be prepared to watch him bleed.”

Her lips quirked, but then she shrugged and wriggled over me, her delectable ass right on my lap, and out of the booth, extending a hand to Lara. The two women crossed to the VIP area’s exclusive dance floor where a small group of clubbers took up space. They made way for my woman, as they should.

Genevieve rolled her body to the music, arms raised, and falling into the beat. I could only stare, hooked on her lithe body in that tight black dress. The spill of golden hair down her back, and how the club’s lights twirled playfully over her. She laughed then bent in to whisper something in Lara’s ear. The two of them giggled, cheering as the DJ mixed in another tune.

Manny shadowed them, his gaze going between the booths and the other dancers, alert for any danger. Likewise, I managed to regain enough control to alternate watching her with any other people who dared to even be near her.

Even just dancing, she wasn’t safe.

If Genevieve and I were a real couple, two people who’d met and fallen in love, this would be my reality. Constantly looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was coming for her. I bred danger. Invited it to follow me around. Never once had I considered how that would affect a partner, even a fake one.

Then my anger rose again, because fuck the idea that this was fake.

She belonged to me.

Even if I had no idea how I could have that and not risk her life every day. Just as harsh came the rejection that I was my father. That claiming ownership of her smacked of how he’d collected women in the past.

The waiter reappeared with our drinks, and I grasped my cold glass and slammed back the Scotch.

I had to distance myself from her. Get myself under fucking control. For the sake of everything I’d built, I had to prove to myself just how little Genevieve mattered.