Brutal Obsession (The Safeguard Series, Book One) (2 page)

The wheels of the black leather chair rolled back when Ashlyn sat down, her adrenaline finally fading as the pain took hold. Tears stung her eyes as exhaustion settled over her. She couldn’t keep going on like this. She was so worn out from the constant fear and she was coming to the realization that she needed to do something about it. She needed to take control, but unfortunately she wasn’t sure from whom.

Ashlyn reached out for a tissue in the box she always kept on her desk when something caught her eye. She stopped in mid-motion, her arm hovering above her desk. No. That couldn’t be right. She stared at the steady green light on top of her monitor as the significance of what she was seeing weighed down on her, causing the pain in her foot to momentarily disappear.

He was playing with her.

He was watching her.

Ashlyn now had no doubt left that he’d been in her apartment tonight. Revulsion hit her hard, but she was tired…so tired of being scared. A calculating coldness finally settled in and she purposefully smiled as she leaned back against her chair. She never once wavered her steady gaze as she dialed 911 and lifted the phone to her ear.

“I’d like to report a break-in,” Ashlyn said in a controlled manner when the 911 operator inquired about her problem. Was he listening? She leaned closer so that he couldn’t mistake the challenge in her eyes or the words that passed her lips. “Please send a unit to…”

Piercing pain made itself known when Ashlyn tried to place her left foot on the floor as she rattled off her address. She wouldn’t show her discomfort to the man who was watching her. She refused and sat up a little straighter.

“My name?” Ashlyn tilted her head and leveled a look at the camera as if she were looking at a defendant in court. She made a promise to herself that one of these days he would be. “Federal Prosecutor Ashlyn Ellis.”

*

His heart rate
stuttered when Ashlyn leaned into the camera, her blue eyes staring directly into his imprisoned soul.

Did she feel it like he did?

Did she feel their ethereal connection?

There were times when he would swear that he could actually see the gossamer thread that connected her spirit to his when they were close. He slowly raised a hand and then lightly traced her face on one of the monitors he’d dedicated to watching the feed from her laptop camera full time, not stopping until he’d circled her full lips completely. Even after her evening shower, they still managed to hold a lighter shade of the lipstick she’d worn earlier today.

He routinely recorded the footage he got from her computer’s camera and then edited out the times when she wasn’t in-frame. It cost him several hours a night to catalog the digital images of her pristine visage. It was all worth the occasional video capture of her at home in minimal clothing, relaxing as if she didn’t know he was there to see her.

He wondered if her lips were as soft as they appeared.

Would they taste like the coffee she drank every morning?

He couldn’t prevent himself from leaning forward and pressing his lips against the warm screen as he touched himself.

She would forever be his.

“Please send a unit to…”

Did she really think that the police could keep them apart? Did she think he was a complete idiot? He was smarter than all of those would-be Sam Spade types. The spike of anger hit him directly in the chest and he curled his lips in disgust at her meager attempt to pull someone else into their relationship.

She was his gift, given to him for his faithful obedience to the word. Did she need for him to prove himself once again? Did she want him to show her just how strong of a mate he was for her?

Was what he had already done not good enough for her?

He abruptly stood as she rattled off her address, dropping the lace underwear he’d been holding in his sweaty hand to his cluttered secondhand desk.

He couldn’t breathe. Her words reverberated through the small room as he punched his forehead over and over to remove the pain. It didn’t prevent her from giving the 911 operator the rest of her information.

What had the psychiatrist said to do when he could sense he was losing control of his violent temper? That’s right. Start counting to ten while thinking of something more pleasant—like her body asleep before him when he visited at night. He deliberately tore his eyes from the screen in the attempt to seek out the only thing in his apartment to give him comfort.

There. The rage inside of him gradually eased until even his fists loosened, eventually relaxing enough to pick up the bottom half of Ashlyn’s lingerie. He reassured himself that he’d have the other half as soon as she’d worn it.

“My name?”

He spoke his surname over hers as she stated the information.

It sounded like music to his ears.

She was his gift.

‡

K
eane Sanderson continued
to drive down the gravel lane lined with old growth American Elms, their abundant green leaves providing shade for the arrow-straight journey that seemed to take longer than necessary. The fully-grown trees had to have been planted over a hundred years ago to acquire such hefty size and such an extensive network of branches reaching out for the heavens.

The texture of the thick bark was impressive and could no doubt withstand whatever severe weather was brought their way. He was envious of the history they’d been around to experience. He only hoped that the trees would continue to escape the ravages of the elm disease that had plagued so many of their brethren in this part of the country.

The ringing of Keane’s cell phone cut through the peaceful excursion he’d been about to make to visit with his new employer. He grimaced at the intrusion and reached for his cell phone he’d placed in the center console of the mid-sized American sedan that he’d rented. It wasn’t his preferred method of traveling, but it would do until he’d finished his move to the Sunshine State next month.

Sadie.

The name appearing on the display made it rather hard to ignore the plea. Rather than continue on and be forced to cut a conversation with his sister short, he slowed down and pulled off to the side of the lane. He shifted into park, but allowed the engine to idle as he swiped to accept the call on the small screen.

“Sadie,” Keane answered, already knowing why his sister was calling this early in the morning. She should have already started her shift at the hospital. “I’ve got one minute before I need to go into a meeting.”

“Did you know?” Sadie demanded in a heated manner, not bothering with pleasantries. She always did like to put up a front, but he could hear the hurt lacing her tone. “Dad cannot sell the house, Keane. Mom wouldn’t have wanted him to either. He’d be giving up so much, not to mention his beloved workshop out back. It’s what keeps him sane after all that has happened. You need to talk some sense into him, because we all know he won’t listen to me.”

Keane leaned an arm out the window as Sadie continued on about why their father selling their sprawling childhood home wasn’t a good idea. He understood her reluctance, but their mother had been gone for over three years now. It was time for Don Sanderson to move on and Keane understood he couldn’t do that with all of those memories packed between those four walls.

“Sadie,” Keane cut in gently, “it’s time.”

“No, it’s not—”

“Yes, it is.” Keane surveyed the immediate area as he took time to explain why their father was ready to live life again. “Dad retired a year ago and what does he do besides bounce around inside that place like a frozen pea in a boxcar? He spends his days out back in the workshop and rarely leaves that huge house. He’s become stagnant at the age of sixty-seven. He wants to travel, visit you up in Seattle and me down here in Florida, and go to all of the places he’s talked about since we were kids. Selling the house isn’t selling our memories, Sadie. It’s just too much for him to keep up with. He’s paying a cleaning service to dust rooms weekly that he never uses.”

The long pause on the line had Keane knowing he’d gotten through to his sister. She’d eventually come around to the idea that their father had a life to lead and they couldn’t be his personal advisors with such a biased position. Don Sanderson was his own navigator, ready to set sail for something more than mundane days and lonely nights roaming the empty halls of his legacy.

Keane was waiting for Sadie to reply when the breeze picked up, revealing something that really didn’t come as a surprise. He never would have noticed it had he not been trying to look at the clouds through the leaves for the thunderstorms the weatherman had spoken of this morning.

High up in the elm tree directly to his left was a surveillance camera, hidden discreetly on one of the higher branches. He didn’t doubt it was one of many. His new employer was a start-up security and investigations firm, and the sole owner was known for his penchant for reconnaissance technology. Word on the street was that there was a private backer, but no one could confirm that piece of information when Keane had tried to do some research after receiving the job offer.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Keane argued affectionately as he lifted a hand of acknowledgement toward the camera. He had most likely been monitored the moment he’d taken a left on this private drive. “You love me. You only hate the fact that I’m moving to Florida and that you can no longer vet any woman I decide to take to dinner and a movie.”

“Please. You’re so full of yourself,” Sadie replied, a smile finally forming in her voice. “You don’t take women to dinner. You take them into your bed, make them breakfast after the fact, and then kick them out before they can ask you your last name.”

Keane was well aware that his only healthy relationship with a member of the female persuasion was with his sister. His time in the United States Marine Corps hadn’t been well-suited for a stable relationship. He’d tried once, when he’d fulfilled his third contract after twelve years, but that particular woman had gone to great lengths to point out why he wasn’t cut out for civilian life or a meaningful relationship. Her speech had left somewhat of an impression.

“Damn, I have to go,” Sadie exclaimed over the sounds of high-pitched beeping and the muffled voices of her co-workers. “I still think Dad should keep the house, but I’ll ease up on him. Maybe I’ll buy it myself and relive my youth. Good luck. Love you. Bye.”

Before Keane could respond to any of what Sadie had just said, she’d hung up and disconnected the line. He shook his head at the speed in which his sister lived her life, as well as threw out her thoughts, wishing he could teach her to slow down and enjoy the time they’d been given. Every day was a good day that someone wasn’t shooting at you. At least, that was what he told himself and he was rarely disappointed.

Wasn’t that why he’d resigned from the LAPD SWAT? Keane had been in enough harrowing situations, throughout his military career and that of his subsequent civilian career, to know when to hang up his hat. This move to a higher-end investigation firm on a smaller scale was his fresh start, but the amount of surveillance on this vast acreage had him wondering if something hadn’t been left out of the welcome aboard package.

Keane set his cell phone back into the console before shifting the sedan back into gear. He pressed the accelerator and slowly navigated the rest of the private drive until it opened up into a clearing that revealed quite a shock.

Instead of the usual Floridian housing structures that were so common, a large modern log cabin was positioned among the sheltering shade trees with not a pine tree in sight. Why would someone move to Florida, open a business in the Sunshine State, and
not
live the dream of the typical plantation house on a property of this size?

A large pond, almost big enough to be classified as a lake, could be seen behind the property. It was the detached log outbuilding that caught Keane’s attention. It could technically be used as a security post this far out from the main entrance. It wouldn’t surprise him after what he’d seen on his way in.