Obsession: A Love on the Edge romance

by Sharon Cullen

  Roger’s gaze went to them and Alex saw the moment Roger understood he was outnumbered. He lifted his gun and pointed it at his own head.

  Tess twisted into the grip just like Alex had taught her, flinging Roger’s arm away and at the same time pushing him. He stumbled, the gun went off and Tess fell.

  “No!” With his heart in his throat, Alex ran. He grabbed Tess by the shoulders and rolled her over. The other officers fell on Roger, smashing his face into the pavement and jerking his hands behind his back.

  Roger yelled.

  Tess launched herself into Alex’s arms. No blood—the shot had gone wild. He hugged her and buried his face in her hair.

  ***

  He stood in the shadows of Mrs. Thomas’s house, his anger reaching critical mass. If he didn’t get control of it soon, he’d do something stupid. He took deep breaths, but it didn’t work. The sight of super-fucking-prick-cop Juran with his arms around Tess enraged him.

  He kicked at a clump of snow. One day it would be his hands all over that lovely body. Soon. Very soon.

  Right now it was time to get out. No use getting caught now. Wait until Juran’s defenses were down. Now that Sheffield was in custody, Juran would assume all the bad people had gone away.

  He smiled and edged toward the back of Mrs. Thomas’s house. On the next street over, he broke into a jog and whistled.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tess smiled and touched his cheek, his hair, the little wrinkles beside his eyes.

  “I can’t let go.” He hugged her tighter, breathed deeply. “God, Tess. When I saw…”

  She stroked his hair and he closed his eyes, feeling her pressed against him. Too damn terrified to think of what might have happened if that shot hadn’t gone wild.

  “I’m okay,” she murmured. “I’m all right.”

  “I’m glad I remembered when I did.” His voice sounded strangled but wasn’t half as strangled as he felt inside. He didn’t know if he could ever let her go.

  “Me, too.” She pulled away and they looked at each other. Her smile slipped, then faded. “He told me everything.”

  Alex rubbed her back, wishing like hell she hadn’t been involved in this. That it had been anyone other than Roger.

  “I don’t know what Shannon will do now,” she whispered.

  “We’ll figure it out. We’ll help.”

  She nodded and took his wrists from behind her back, drawing them away, and stepped out of his embrace. He wanted to grab her hands, to hug her to him but already he was feeling the need to help the other officers. To finish what Roger had started that dark night.

  “I have to go to Shannon,” she said. “You have to finish here.”

  He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers, grateful that she understood.

  “We’ll talk when you get back,” she said.

  He touched her cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  As Alex pulled away in his cruiser, he glanced in his rearview mirror and saw Tess standing all alone. She turned and walked to the door. When she opened it, Othello bounded out and ran circles around her. Alex turned the corner and she was gone from his sight.

  ***

  He stood at the threshold, his heart beating against his ribs, his breath suspended. He peered inside, afraid to actually step in. The house looked so normal. So Tess. The scent of roasting potatoes and meat filled the air, bringing with it the pain and nostalgia of his childhood. How’d she know he was a meat-and-potatoes kinda man?

  He strolled through the living room, taking in the maroon afghan thrown carelessly over the forest green couch. So this was where she lived. Where she slept and showered and created Tess’s Temptations. He’d eaten her desserts, gone to every restaurant she supplied and sampled everything she baked. Pure heaven. Just like her. Maybe tonight she’d give him a sample of her temptations.

  Framed photos sat on a small table by the big picture window. He lifted the one of Tess in a champagne-colored wedding gown. So beautiful. He ignored super-prick in a tux standing next to her, but it was hard. His gaze kept going to Juran, and his anger grew.

  He clutched the frame so tightly it cut into his hand. Beads of blood sprouted around the edges. He stared at the crimson drops until his vision blurred and the glass in the frame cracked.

  The laughter and mocking tones of the other officers filled his mind until he almost dropped the picture to clutch his head. Stop! Stop laughing at me!

  They were all super-pricks, every one of them. But Juran, he was the leader, the one who’d caused it all, who told them to laugh and mock, who told them Jeffrey would never make it as a cop.

  Juran had ruined his lifelong dream, his one and only chance of working in law enforcement. He was born to wear a badge, born to arrest scumbags who broke the law, born to follow in the steps of his father. The city needed him but Juran ruined that by washing him out of the Field Training Program. Supercop thought he knew better than anyone how to be a cop.

  He’d applied for the security guard position at the hospital and instead had been given a mop and a bucket. He’d had no choice, had to take the damn job or starve. But it’d turned out to be a boon because he’d been there the night they brought in I-know-everything-don’t-question-me Juran. He hadn’t known everything that night, had he?

  The laughter of his fellow officers became one big roar that filled his ears and his mind. His head pounded with it. Then the sound changed, deepened and became the mocking chuckle of his father, Detective Frank Abbott.

  Jeffrey, you pansy, you’ll never make it as a cop. You don’t have the balls, the guts or the ambition.

  Oh, yeah? Well, his father might have died without Jeffrey proving him wrong, but he could prove to Tess that he most definitely did have balls.

  ***

  Tess let O out the back door and turned the oven off. She had no idea when she’d be back from Shannon’s house. For a fleeting moment she regretted that she would have to put off telling Alex about the baby, but then pushed the thought away. There was plenty of time. Shannon needed her now and Alex was a little preoccupied. She walked into the living room and stopped. A man stood at the small table by the window holding her wedding picture. Her gaze flew to the closed door. How the hell had he gotten in here and who the hell was he?

  The man looked up and smiled, his light brown hair and pretty blue eyes familiar.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Tess.” He walked toward her.

  Tess stepped back, shocked he knew her name.

  “I was there when your pickup went off the road.”

  She smiled, still wondering how he had gotten in, but took his offered hand anyway. “I’m so glad to meet you. I wanted to thank you but you were gone and you didn’t leave your name.” She said the last like it was a question.

  He shook her hand and smiled. He was cute in a boyish sort of way with dark blond hair that bordered on light brown. “Jeffrey Abbott.”

  The name sounded familiar but she couldn’t figure out why or where she would have heard it before. “Thank you, Jeffrey. For calling the police.” She surreptitiously glanced at the door, wondering if she’d locked it.

  “It was open,” he said. “I knocked but no one answered.”

  “Oh.” Who would just walk into a stranger’s house?

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said.

  “Thanks to you.” They stood there and Tess’s unease grew. Something wasn’t right about this—aside from the fact he’d just walked into her house uninvited. He seemed nice enough with his concern for her. Then she remembered what Alex had told her about the stolen cell phone and wallet and knew that’s where her unease came from. The guy may have been nice enough to call the cops when she was injured but he was still a criminal.

  She gauged the distance between herself and the door, between him and the door, wondering who would get to it first.

  He must have sensed her intention because he suddenly shifted, stan
ding between her and escape, shaking his head and taking her hand. She tried to pull away but his grip tightened until her bones ground together. Her gaze flew to his and he smiled.

  With his other hand he ran his finger down her cheek. “I’m so sorry about the truck, my Tess. It was meant for Juran.”

  Her breath hitched and her knees wobbled. “Wh-what?”

  “Juran, fucking Supercop, was supposed to have driven that damn truck. Not you. Never you. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

  She swallowed and tried to pull her hand away, but his hold was bruising, cutting off her circulation. And his eyes… His eyes weren’t normal. Glazed. The pupils large.

  “Don’t worry, my Tess, we’ll get rid of him.”

  Oh, dear God. She shook her head, her voice caught in the large lump of terror in her throat.

  His finger slid down her cheek and brushed her bottom lip.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you that day in the apartment. It was all a big mistake. I just had to touch you.” His finger trailed down her neck, sending goose bumps up her arm. “You shouldn’t have struggled.”

  She twisted her wrist and broke free. Turning on her heel, she ran for the kitchen, skidding around the butcher-block island. Othello barked and scratched to be let in. Little noises followed her, Abbott’s feet hitting the ceramic tile and whimpers she hadn’t even realized she’d been making.

  She threw a kitchen chair in his path. He stumbled and cursed. She reached for the doorknob and closed her hand around it. Just as she twisted the knob, needles of pain shot through her head and she was jerked backward. She cried out and grabbed at her hair. He wrapped a hunk of it around his fist and dragged her away from the door. Her head exploded in pain and she tried to keep up with him to take the pressure off her scalp. She yelled, but doubted anyone would hear her.

  Othello barked and Tess looked at the door. She had managed to open it about an inch.

  “Why, Tess?” He sounded confused, as if he couldn’t believe she’d run from him.

  He dragged her across the kitchen. She tried to keep up but she kept stumbling and he kept pulling her, muttering obscenities and curses. He reached the living room and threw her onto the couch. She bounced and gasped, massaging her aching scalp.

  He pointed at her, strands of red hair dangling from his fingers. “Don’t do that again.” His chest heaved and she nodded, her gaze fixed on her hair in his hand.

  He paced in front of the fireplace. Tess scooted into the corner of the couch, her gaze darting around the room, looking for a weapon. She spotted the fire poker, but it was too far away and the madman stood between her and the fireplace.

  “Why him, Tessie? Why Juran?” He ran a hand down his face and stared at her. “Shut up, Daddy.”

  She jumped and pushed herself farther into the couch.

  He spun around and poked a finger into the air, as if speaking to someone else. “I do too have balls! I’ll show you.”

  He lunged for her. Tess screamed and tried to scramble over the top of the couch. His hands wrapped around her throat, his eyes wild and demented. She struggled underneath him, pushing at his shoulders, kicking at his legs. He held her down, forcing the breath out of her lungs. With a shriek she scraped her nails down his face. He reared back, blood dripping from his cheek.

  “You bitch!”

  She managed to work her leg free and drew back her foot, sending it forward with all her strength, right into the balls he kept yelling he had. He rolled off the couch, clutching himself, his eyes wide, his mouth open, but no sound coming out.

  Othello charged into the room, his body low to the ground, canines bared. He landed on Abbott. The man cried out. Tess scrambled over the back of the couch and ran for the kitchen. Othello yelped and Tess winced. Oh, Jesus, not O. Don’t hurt O.

  She grabbed the phone and dialed 911, careful to set the receiver down so the call wouldn’t disconnect, and ran straight for the back door. Curses intermingled with growls. She stopped, turned and grabbed a knife from the butcher-block island.

  Another yelp, then silence. Tess stood frozen in the middle of her kitchen, her breath coming in small gasps, hand tight around the knife. She looked toward the door leading into the hallway. The silence became thick, crushing in its weight.

  ***

  Alex leaned against the wall and looked through the one-way mirror at Roger hunched over the table, his manacled hands folded in front of him. His attorney sat beside him, instructing him not to answer the detective’s questions.

  “The man’s guilty as hell, why won’t he just admit it?”

  Tony shrugged and took a sip of his soft drink.

  “Did you tamper with the brakes on Officer Juran’s pickup truck?”

  Roger shook his head. His attorney whispered in his ear.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roger said.

  “What about the time Tess Juran was attacked inside Officer Juran’s apartment? Were you there?”

  Roger shook his head again. “No.”

  “And the spray-painting on the front door?”

  “No.”

  Alex made a fist and pounded the wall. “Damn it, Sheffield, admit it! It’s not like you can get in any more trouble.” He just wanted Roger to admit he’d killed Jason, shot him and tormented him and Tess for weeks on end.

  Roger sobbed and wiped his eyes. The handcuffs jangled. He looked up into the one-way mirror and stared into Alex’s eyes. Alex jerked back, but knew Roger could only see his own reflection in the glass.

  “I killed Jason,” he said, his voice low as if he was speaking only to Alex. “I shot Officer Juran—” He sobbed, tears falling down his ragged face. His attorney whispered furiously in his ear, but Roger batted him away. “But I did not attack Tess Juran in his apartment that day or tamper with Officer Juran’s pickup truck.”

  Alex’s radio crackled.

  “Unit 29.”

  “Go ahead,” Upton answered.

  “Report of a 911 at 1694 Elm Street.”

  Alex grabbed the radio on his shoulder. “Repeat, please.” He forced the words through a tight throat.

  “Report of a 911 at 1694 Elm Street.”

  He headed toward the door. “That’s my house.” What the hell was happening?

  Upton followed. Tony jumped up, tossing his can of pop in the trash.

  “Units 29, 31 and 34, responding,” Upton said into his own radio.

  You’ve made a lot of enemies in your career here, Juran. Could Upton have been right? Had Alex been wrong all along in thinking the incidents at his house and the shooting were related?

  He hopped in his cruiser, grabbed the cell phone and dialed his home number. He got a busy signal and cursed. The two cruisers raced to his neighborhood with lights and sirens.

  Who the hell could have done those other things? Had he made enemies who were willing to hurt his wife to get revenge?

  Both cruisers screeched to a halt. Alex threw the door open and ran to his front door before Upton and Blankenship caught him by the arm.

  “You can’t go storming in there. You have no idea what you’re getting into,” Upton said.

  Chest heaving, he stopped and studied his house. Nothing moved. Most telling, Othello wasn’t barking. The absence of his dog made his blood run cold.

  He walked up to the front door and tried the knob. Locked. He stepped back, his hand on the butt of his gun, and looked around. Tony stood behind him, Upton behind Tony. Alex took his house keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door.

  He slid his gun out of his holster, pushed open the door and stepped inside. The house possessed the kind of quiet that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

  He stepped to the side, covering the room with his weapon while Tony slid in, Upton behind him. The small table with their wedding pictures had been knocked over.

  A man lay in a pool of blood in front of the hearth. Othello was on his side, blood oozing from a wound near his neck. Tess cradled the dog�
��s head in her lap and held a knife in the other hand.

  Alex’s relief nearly took his knees out from under him. He holstered his weapon, checked the thready pulse on the man then went to Tess, his gaze searching her for injuries.

  “Are you okay? What happened?”

  She pointed the knife at the man. Alex took it from her and handed it to Tony.

  “He’s the one who attacked me in your apartment and messed with the brakes on your truck.”

  The dog whined and thumped his tail once. Fresh blood oozed from the wound and Tess cradled him closer. Othello lifted his head, then let it fall back.

  Alex crouched next to the guy and studied him. “I’ll be damned.” His gaze followed the trail of blood to the guy’s upper thigh. Apparently O had bit into the leg and cut the artery.

  “Who is it?” Upton asked.

  “Jeffrey Abbott.” Abbott had been cocky and sure of himself and completely wrong for the department. Unfortunately, he’d passed all the psychological profile tests and physicals. It hadn’t taken long for the department to realize their mistake in hiring him and send him to Alex. He’d washed him out of the program fast.

  He shook his head. Thirty years ago Abbott’s father had been one of the best detectives in the department. Jeffrey had thought riding on daddy’s coattails would get him just as far. He’d always been a little manic, a little too far on the edge. Alex had feared he would shoot someone just for the hell of it.

  Tess hunched over Othello and sobbed. Othello lapped up her tears, obviously not too badly hurt and enjoying the attention.

  Hands shaking, his stomach in knots, Alex drew her close.

  “Shhh, Tessie, O will be all right. Probably just needs a couple stitches.”

  Tony crouched down and took the afghan from the back of the couch to press it against Othello’s wounds. Othello tried to roll, but gave up the struggle and lay back.

  Upton put his fingers to Abbott’s pulse. His gaze slid to Alex and he pulled away, shaking his head.

  Tess wiped at her tears. “I love you, Alexandre Juran, but I can’t take much more of this.”