Sweet Obsession (Ruthless Games Book 1)

My gaze flicks up to meet Ryland’s as his words settle over me.

I fucking get it now. Why he was so damn desperate to keep me out of their lives. I’ve already come too close to the game once, when I stepped between Marcus and the three bullets meant for his body. And now I’ve been dragged into it again, a pawn on a chessboard I didn’t even know existed.

There are still so many questions I need answers to, but the one that keeps rising to the top of my mind is, what now?

Now I know. Now I see the full picture, and I understand what they’ve been hiding from me all this time. Why their lives are the way they are.

But what do I do with that?

What does it mean?

Where do we go from here?

Jesus. Rich people are so fucked up.

It’s not just the wealthy, I know that. And it’s not just about money. More than that, it’s about power—and the messed up things people will do to get it.

“So, are you going to go after Carson, then?” I ask, digging my fingernails into the fabric of my jeans. My pants are scuffed and scraped, marred with streaks of dirt and a smear of blood. “You said it’s worse to just sit it out and wait.”

“No.” Marcus shoves his hands into his pockets, his shoulders going rigid. “Under ordinary circumstances, yeah, that’s true. But right now, the only fucking strategy we have is to keep you safe. This isn’t a game of offense anymore. It’s a game of defense.”

The hard knot in my stomach loosens a little at his words, and at the vehemence in his voice. But I still can’t hold his gaze for long. Somehow, I feel more betrayed by him than by the other two, more hurt by the lies and secrets.

Ryland has been part of this from the start, but at least he tried to stop it. And Theo… I don’t know. I don’t feel like he hid as much from me as Marcus did. Like he lied as profoundly.

“So we’ll stay here?” I switch my focus to Theo and Ryland, trying to pretend I don’t notice the look of pain that flashes across Marcus’s face. “For, what, six more hours? Where are we, anyway?”

“An old rental house on the south side of the city,” Ryland tells me. “I keep it rented under a fake name. We’ve got five of them spread around Halston, in case we need a place to lie low for a while.”

“But we can’t stay here,” Theo adds, and the muscles in my back that were beginning to relax slightly go tense again. “It’s too risky. We try to keep these rental units off the books, but they’re not untraceable. Carson’s strategic, but he’s also a vindictive little bitch. It won’t matter that his original plan went sideways; he’s not gonna go after any of the other players until he takes his shot at us. And he’s running out of time. I’m sure he’s looking for us right now.”

My pulse picks up, and I glance toward the window, where the curtains are drawn. “How long have we been here?”

“Almost seven hours. We need to get out of here soon. The longer we wait, the more time he has to prepare his next move.”

“And maybe to gather more allies.” Marcus curls his lip, looking like he wants to spit on the floor. “He’s already got that fuckwad Dominic in an alliance, doing his dirty work for him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tries to get Gabriel or Asher on his side too. Convince them that taking out all three of us will clear the playing field and give them an advantage next year.”

I don’t have any clue who these people are that he’s talking about, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. I know they all want to kill us, and that’s enough.

“All right.” I stand up. We might not actually be heading out right this second, but I can’t sit still anymore. Nerves are burning a hole in my stomach, and it feels like my entire body is vibrating. “Then where do we go?”

“That’s the fucking problem.” Theo stands up too, stepping closer to me. He stops short of actually touching me, but I can feel his body heat across the small space that separates us. Gently, he brushes a tangled lock of hair behind my ear. “Marcus is right that we need to play defense. But we have to figure out a good way to do that. Carson is after us—and he’s already taken you once. Leaving you behind isn’t safe, but keeping you with us is dangerous too.”

“She stays with us.” Marcus’s voice is hard.

I whip my head toward him, anger rising up again that he’s letting his obsession rule his judgement—that he’s willing to drag me toward death just so he won’t ever have to let me go.

But before I can say anything, Ryland speaks from the couch.

“He’s right. It’s a risk either way, and I fucking hate that. But if it comes down to two shitty options, I pick the one where we’re there to protect her if shit goes down. I’m not letting Carson touch her again.”

“Yeah. Agreed.” Theo’s voice is serious and low. His fingertips brush my arm as he adds, “Never again.”

The timbre of his voice makes my heart quicken, and I turn my head back to face him slowly, taking in the bandage that covers his right upper arm. He changed his shirt, ditching the bloodstained one, but I remember the bright swath of red that covered his arm earlier.

I reach up to touch the bandage, and he jerks slightly, but I don’t think it’s from pain. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

“Yeah.” His crooked smile is gentle. “Just grazed me. I don’t even need stitches.”

I bite my lip to hide my grimace. There is no “just” when it comes to bullets, as far as I’m concerned. There’s only “dead” and “not dead,” and I’m grateful as fuck that he still falls into the second category. I don’t say any of that though, because I’m not sure I’m ready to admit to these men how much I still care about them, despite everything.

Maybe I’m not even ready to admit it to myself.

“I know a place where we can hide out,” Ryland says. “Down by the warehouse district. It’s nowhere near any of our safe houses, so Carson will have a harder time tracking us down there. I say we gear up, head out, and hole up.”

My gaze shifts to him briefly, my brows pulling together a little.

These three men might not have chosen to play this dangerous game they’re embroiled in, but I don’t think “hide out” is a phrase they’ve probably used much before in their lives. Like Theo said, there are risks involved even in trying to lie low. But more than that, none of these guys are the types to back down from a fight.

But that’s exactly what they’re about to do.

They all hate Carson with a burning rage, and the countdown clock is ticking down the seconds they have left to get their vengeance on him.

Instead of plotting revenge, though, they’re going into hiding. Standing down from a fight.

For me.

Strong emotions roil my stomach, but I squash them down, taking a step back from Theo.

Don’t let yourself care for them, Ayla. Don’t let them get under your skin.

But it’s too late for that. They’re so far under my skin I swear I can feel them inside me sometimes—little pieces of them lodged inside my heart like burrs.

“Agreed.” Marcus nods decisively. “Let’s head out in five.”

Ryland stands, the movement fluid and graceful. “I’ll check our ammo and weapons.”

“I’ll check police scanners,” Theo adds, digging out his phone.

“I’ll… put my shoes on.” My contribution sounds lame as fuck, but I’m not sure what else I could do to help.

As everyone breaks away to deal with their respective duties, I walk quickly back toward the bedroom. My gaze snags on the bed in the middle of the room, and my mind reels as I struggle to process everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours.

Marcus was inside me less than twelve hours ago. Theo’s lips were on mine. And Ryland was watching it all.

That might be the most intimate thing I’ve ever done with three people.

So why do they feel almost like strangers now?

I scrub a hand down my face, as if I can somehow wipe my thoughts clean and start over with a fresh slate. My shoes are sitting by the edge of the bed, neatly lined up. One of the guys must’ve taken them off me while I was asleep.

They’re simple slip-on ballet flats. Less than ideal footwear when running for one’s life, but that was the last fucking thing on my mind when I put them on yesterday.

I slide them on and then turn to head back to the living room—but stop short when Marcus’s broad frame appears in the doorway.

He steps into the room, resting a hand on the wall to block my path. A foot and a half of space separates us, and it feels like a mile and a fraction of an inch at the same time.

“We okay?” he murmurs.

My throat tightens as I swallow. “Does it matter?”

The faintest hint of his clean, sharp scent teases my nostrils. Addictive. Familiar.

I don’t know anymore if I hate this man or love him, if I want to push him away or pull him closer. But I also truly don’t know if it matters. I’m so tangled up in him that I feel like I’d lose much more than a limb if I tried to tear myself away now.

I remember thinking once that there would be no end to this thing between us except death.

That may be far more true than I realized.

Marcus’s eyes narrow. “Of course it matters.”

“Will it change anything?” There’s a sharp bite to my words.

His lips press together. He looks almost angry, but I can’t tell if the anger is directed inward or outward. He drops his hand from the wall and takes a step forward, closing the gap between us. His arm loops around my back, and my breasts brush against his torso as he lowers his face to my neck and draws in a deep lungful of air.

He’s always doing this. Breathing me in like I’m his oxygen.

My skin prickles and my heart jumps in my chest, my body reacting to his touch like it always does.

But I force my arms to remain by my sides, clenching my hand as I resist the urge to reach for him.

I can’t. I can’t let myself.

“Let’s roll out!” Ryland calls from the living room, and Marcus’s fingers flex, digging into my back for a moment.

When he lifts his head, his jaw is set as his eyes bounce between mine. “This conversation isn’t over, angel.”

I don’t answer. I just follow him out to the living room, where Ryland and Theo are already standing by the door. I can tell they’re both more heavily armed than they were before. Ryland hands a gun to Marcus, and all three of them surround me like a trio of secret service agents as we slip out of the house.

It’s early morning, and the bright sunshine and faint chirping of birds seem strange, at odds with the heavy pounding of my heart.

The tranquil calm around us seems threatening somehow, and I shift nervously from foot to foot as Marcus and Ryland quickly uncover the car and drop the tarp on the ground. We pile inside, in roughly the same configuration we were in yesterday—Ryland behind the wheel, Marcus beside him, and Theo in the back with me.

Ryland starts the car up and turns around, heading back down a long driveway. I’m able to take in our surroundings much more clearly today, and I realize we’re in a remote part of the city, where the properties are spaced farther apart. That’s probably exactly why they picked this location for one of their safe houses.

But how safe is it, really?

Not safe enough that they’re willing to risk staying there. Would Carson really be able to track down the connection between whatever name the house is rented under and these three men?

It seems almost incomprehensible to me, but I have to remind myself that these people all have resources I don’t. I can’t even get anywhere with the CPS office about my brother, let alone somehow track down records on under-the-table deals or hidden leases.

The drive is tense and quiet. No music plays, and none of us talk, except for a few quiet words exchanged between Marcus and Ryland as they debate the best route to reach the warehouse district undetected.

At one point, Theo reaches over and squeezes my hand. When I glance at him, his blue-green eyes are soft. “Only five more hours. That’s all. Then it’s done.”

His words don’t really soothe me at all, but his strong fingers wrapped around mine do, and I soak up that little bit of comfort.

Only five hours. They’ve already survived sixty-seven. We all have.

We’re so fucking close.

We drive through a section of Halston I recognize, and then into a part I don’t. We must be getting close though, because the buildings change around us, becoming more industrial. It’s a Monday morning, and all the traffic heading into the city obviously isn’t coming this way. The road is nearly deserted.

Marcus and Ryland begin talking quietly in the front seat again, making plans for how they’ll defend our position once we arrive. The warehouse we’re heading toward is one Ryland has access to through a contractor who used to work for his family. So there is still some traceable connection between him and this location, but it’d be a long shot for anyone to pick up on it.

“It’s big, but we should be able to lock down one part of it,” he tells Marcus quietly. There’s something in his demeanor that’s both terrifying and awe inspiring—a cool sort of efficiency, as if he’s shut off every part of his mind and heart except whatever is needed to deal with the problem at hand.

“That’s good. If we—”

A loud crack cuts him off, and the windshield fractures in a spiderweb pattern.

“Shit!”

Ryland jerks the wheel, but more bullets hit the windshield.

Crack crack crack!

The glass doesn’t break, but it’s so damaged that it’s nothing but a network of white cracks, nearly impossible to see through. He jerks the wheel again, and the car veers the other direction.

Then my whole body jolts forward as someone rams us from behind.