Page 83 of Total Obsession

"Checking the feed," he replied. "No."

"Good."

The same exercise happened with Primo. He arrived, I watched as he made his way into the safe house, and Will confirmed the kill.

"Excellent work," I said to him.

I was about to turn the car on and put it into drive. There was no reason for me to enter the safehouse, and I didn't want any evidence of me being there to be found at the scene.

"Hold on," Will said, and I grimaced.

"What's the matter?" I ground out.

"The guys didn't plant the guns like we talked about."

I was livid. "Are you kidding me?" I said. "Get them back on the radio and get them in there to finish the job."

"I'm not able to make contact," Will said after a moment.

"Shit," I cursed. If the cops rolled up to find two dead bodies in the safehouse without corresponding weapons to make it look like some sort of shootout or murder/suicide, it would raise suspicion. The situation had to be fixed.

"Are we still clear?" I asked Will.

"Nothing on the police scanners," he replied.

I crouched low as I got out of the car, making sure to avoid where I knew the cameras were hidden. My leather gloves creaked against the buttons of the keypad on the door, and my breath condensed in the cold night air.

Why did things always have to go wrong?

Why couldn't people just do their jobs correctly the first time?

"Where are the weapons?" I asked Will.

"Under the floorboard on the left side," he said.

"Got it."

I opened the door to absolute pitch blackness. It was impossible to see anything.

"Shit," I said, fumbling with my flashlight. I closed the door before I turned it on.

That's when my life flashed before my eyes.

What I was supposed to see was two dead bodies and a loose floorboard in the lefthand corner.

Instead, what I saw were very alive bodies, one of which belonged to Primo and another to Beau. Both had guns pointed right at me.

I held my hands up, dropping the flashlight so that it rolled on the floor.

"You two-timing fucking bastard," Primo said, coming in close to me. I met his gaze, not flinching away from him.

"That's real rich, coming from you," I spat.

He hit me with the butt of his gun, and I went down to my knees, spitting blood onto the floor.

"You'll be pleased to know," I said through the pain of the cut in my lip, "that it wasn't me who was trying to get you arrested, but your dear old dad."

"Fucking liar," he said.