Obsessions and Hitmen

Chapter Three: Unfiltered Thoughts

Chapter Three: Unfiltered Thoughts

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POV: *Jude*

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I took my usual seat in a booth in the back corner of the small town bar. The black vinyl of the seat cover had flaked, and it scratched against my pants as I hurried into place. I picked at a pealed-up spot when she walked in.

I saw the bright red of her skirt out of the corner of my eye as I looked for our usual server. My eyes shot back to her when I registered it was her. I could see more of her skin than she showed this morning.

What in h*ll was this woman doing to me? What kind of day did she have that required her to shed clothing? I clenched my jaw and looked her up and down again before scanning the crowd for anyone who might have been doing the same.

Tonight wasn't our usual bar night. Typically, those were on Fridays or Mondays. The only other member of our team I could call in was the server. It would be me versus the bar with her looking like that.

She took her seat across from me, cursing at how the rough vinyl felt against her thighs. The moment she walked in, I decided not to drink. If she wanted to get plastered, that was fine, but I didn't trust myself. Not after the way this morning had started.

I tried not to look at her chest while we talked about nothing and everything. Well, while she spoke. The only time I looked up from my glass of soda was when our Server, Kimmy, came by.

Each time she did, I would flirt, and Reign would order herself a drink and me a shot. Not that she would ever let me drink it. Kimmy would lean over, putting her chest in perfect view to sit the drink in front of me, and Reign would take that shot and down it while I flirted.

I probably should have stopped her or gotten over myself and taken a couple more, but I didn't. Every time she reached for that glass was one more shot I didn't have to take, and I was confident that was key to everyone surviving the night.

However, the problem was that with every shot she took, Reign was increasingly intoxicated. She was flirtatious when she drank. By design, this had always happened at strategic times. I never let it happen when she looked like a freaking pin-up model.

Not only did I not want to take her drink, but I also wanted to distract myself with Kimmy to add one more brick to the small wall between Reign and myself.

A wall I did not know why I even needed. I hated this woman. I hated who I had to be for her. Tonight however the line between lust and hate was thin. With each shot she took, I wanted to taste how drunk she was on her lips.

I looked back at her as Kimmy walked away from dropping off the fifth round of drinks.

“Slow down there, Princess," I chuckled as Reign threw back the tequila she had ordered for 'me.'

She rolled her eyes and slumped back into her seat.

“Listen, Peach," she started, puckering her lips on the 'p,' “I can't get up and dance because you may knock out some intoxicated dumb*ss. I can't converse with you while the waitress is almost in your lap, and if you cut me off, I will call it a night. You know what? Today freaking sucks. I should probably just go home," she finished and tried to stand up for the first time since she sat down.

I jumped out of my seat as she stumbled and fell back on her butt.

“That's what you get for calling me Peach," I teased as I offered my hand.

She stood again, her legs shaking like a newborn calf on those ridiculous heels.

She was right. Tonight was off, and if word got back to the boss that I let his daughter get sloppy in an understaffed bar, he would have my head. It also didn't help how she looked up at me with those big green eyes.

It stirred a primal urge in me to grab her ponytail and watch the shock flood into them. Yeah, it was time to get her home. I walked her out of the bar to my car as she rested her head against my shoulders.

“Ok, first things first, those heels have to go," I ordered as she sank into the passenger seat of my car and plopped her purse in her lap.

She looked down at her feet that still hung outside the car before she leaned over to fight with a small buckle around her ankle. She dumped her purse and most of its contents in the parking lot.

“Sh*t!" she cursed as she continued to fight with the strap that seemed to be childproof.

“Let me," I huffed as I kneeled before her.

She was killing me tonight. She threw herself in my seat and hiked her skirt up her long legs. Her creamy pale skin clashed against the vibrant red material stretched across her thighs so tight I could bounce a quarter off it.

I dropped my gaze to her dainty ankle that rested in my hand and ignored how her heel dug into my jeans. I unbuckled the first and moved to the second. The spike of her stiletto found the same indention her other had left.

I bit my lip as I delayed the release of the strap just long enough to graze my thumb around the curve of her joint. 'Pull it together, Jude. This is the same woman that wrecked your life.'

“You can't do that," she said barely above a whisper, and I looked up at her.

I used that excuse to touch her longer enough to remember why I shouldn't caress her.

“I'm sorry?" I asked, confused by her statement. I couldn't process what she said while playing jump rope with lines I shouldn't cross.

“You can't touch me like that. It's intimate, and I-I can't," She let out in a breath, and I stilled.

I didn't know how to respond. Reign wasn't wrong. I didn't need to be touching her at all, but I didn't know how we got into this position in the first place. I didn't want to touch 'her'; I reasoned with myself. I wanted to be self-destructive.

I nodded instead, dropping my attention from her vulnerable face to the mess between us. I picked up the contents of her purse when a photograph caught my eye. It wasn't the picture as a tiny black-painted bird she had circled with a red marker. Her father's signature.

“Are you working on a murder case for the internship?" I asked as I kept the photo out and put everything else into the bag.

“Lots of murder cases," she answered as if already exhausted by the question.

“This looks like a pretty dangerous assignment," I tried.

She shrugged, and I prayed it had only been a coincidence. I couldn't tell her anything. I couldn't tell her that the bird she noted was her father's calling card. I couldn't tell her that the murders she was working on were mob-related. All I could do was try to convince her to drop it on her own. If she didn't, I would have to make some calls and get her removed.

I got into the driver's side and buckled us up. She turned her head to face out her window as she laid her back against the seat. The light from the street lamp lay across her chest like a blanket of starlight. The shadows contoured her cleavage just enough that it looked like she could fall out of that top at any moment. 'Goodness' sake, woman.'

I focused on the road ahead and pulled out of the parking lot. I had fifteen minutes to convince her to find a new project. It wasn't very long to scare her away from this one.

“You promised your father you would stick to the safer side of investigative journaling. Investigating murders can't be in that category," I reminded her after a few silent beats.

“I don't control the assignments; I just get information. The only people I talk to are the ones at the paper," she countered, and I glanced over to see her eyes closed as she took in the cool breeze from her cracked window.

“What if you uncover the wrong thing and you have a murderer after you? You can't tell me that's not a risk. You said murders," I pressed, and she shifted in her seat.

“I would figure it out, or I don't know, sick my overprotective bestie on them," she answered, blowing off the question.

Of course, she would not take this seriously. From her point of view, nothing wrong ever happened to her, but that was because I was always there to clean up her mess. As much as she meant that statement as a joke, she did not know how true it would have to be or the position she was putting me in.

“Tell your boss you need another assignment tomorrow morning. I want you off this," I demanded.

I knew I shouldn't have phrased it so harshly the moment I said it. Reign was never the kind to take orders well. Her safety stopped existing when stubbornness came into play.

“You know, I wanted to go out tonight because I finally felt like I found my place at the paper. I should have known better than to push my luck. Pull over," Reign said, done with our conversation. Done with me.

“We are still miles from your home. I'm not pulling over," I dismissed as I kept my eyes on the road.

I felt her stare daggers into the side of my head as she fumbled with something in her lap between her and the console between our seats.

“I am getting out of this car. I am too angry to go home and deal with Beau's bullsh*t, and I am done with yours. Pull this car over now," She demanded as the click revealed what she had been messing with in her lap. She had undone her seat belt.

If Reign mixed alcohol with her stubbornness, her survival instincts and mental stability shorted out. I knew she would open that door if I didn't pull over.

She reached for her door handle, and I skidded to a stop on the shoulder. The road was dead. No one is ahead or behind us for at least a good mile.

“Sh*t! Reign!" I called after her as she bolted from my car, cutting into the large field that spanned the four miles between her house and mine.

“Go home, Jude," she yelled back at me.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, afraid that if I ran after her, she would take off to lose me in the dark drunk and barefoot, and get herself lost. If I stayed put, I could have Beau look out for her on the other side of the overgrown field. She had just topped the hill that cut off my line of vision when Beau's name flashed across my screen.

“I was just about to call you," I answered.

I heard shuffling from the other side of the phone.

“Is Reign with you?" he asked, and something sounded off about his voice, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was. It could have just been the theme for this day.

“Well, that's why I was calling. We did our weekly drink night tonight, and she just took off from my car from the other side of that field across from you. Can you let me know when she gets there?" I asked, and he cursed a little under his breath.

“I can do that. I take it she's mad at you?" he asked knowingly, and I let out a humorous laugh.

“When isn't she? Just a fair warning she's a little under the influence and mentioned something about not dealing with your bullsh*t. I feel she's not happy with either of us," I cautioned, and I expected to hear him make a joke or tell me that fit, but all I heard was the click of the line going dead.

I hopped back into my car and headed back to their house. I wanted to be there in case something happened between her leaving my car and making it safely inside her home.

I had dropped my keys on my floorboard when a glint of metal caught my eye. It must have fallen from her purse. There on the floorboard of my car was her birth control packet. The foil on the bottom caught the shine off the dash lights. Well, this was going to be awkward.

Thank god, Beau had been a plant as well. Murin had placed Beau in her web so I could be on call for a little while instead of watching her twenty-four-seven.

I wasn't up for another fight tonight, and if I was in some civilian's shoes, I wasn't sure I would have taken another man returning my girl's birth control lightly. I laid a heavy foot on the gas, ready to get this night over.

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