I saw her once.
That was all it took.
Now Callie West belongs to me.
She thinks I'm her protector. The man who rescued her when her life fell apart.
She doesn't know I've been watching her for months.
Learning her habits.
Memorizing her smiles.
Planning a future she never agreed to.
When enemies from my past close in, Callie becomes a target. The safest place for her is with me.
The only problem?
The closer she gets, the more dangerous my obsession becomes.
Because I'll do anything to keep her.
And once I claim what's mine...
I never let go.
More From Unhealthy Obsessions
She placed a bottle of beer down in front of one of the men, and he grabbed her arm, pulling her close. She let out a little squeal, and anger rushed through Evander as he stepped in closer. He gripped the man’s wrist, applying just enough pressure to make a point. The asshole attempted to fight for dominance, trying not to show he was in pain. The fool.
“That is no way to treat a lady.”
“She’s no lady,” he said.
“You know what, Mitch, I think we should go and see Leah. She wants our money.” The guy who sat next to this fucker tried to play the peacekeeper.
Evander released the man’s wrist and waited. He hoped the bastard would take him on. No one touched Callie. And he was always up for a good fight.
They left, as did the rest of the men sitting at the bar.
“Wow, er, thank you,” Callie said.
He turned his full attention to her.
“How’s your arm?” he asked.
Callie looked down at herself and smiled. “It’s nothing. It’s all part of the job, right?”
“Dealing with asshole men, yes, I can see that.”
She laughed. “What can I get you?”
“A beer.” He had no intention of drinking.
“I think I recognize you. Do you come in here often?” Callie asked.
“Sometimes.” He’d been coming in most nights, but rarely did she see him. Callie didn’t need to know that for the past couple of months, he’d been stalking her. He knew all of her movements, what she liked, what she hated. Even some of her taste in music, which was not the same as his. She loved modern pop. He was more into soul. There was also a nineteen-year age gap, but age was just a number.
“I thought I recognized you. If you don’t mind me saying, this place is beneath you. I know a good bar a few blocks from here that would be more your style.”
“And why is that?” he asked.
“The suit. It’s designer, right? Trust me, we don’t get people like you in here that often. My boss tries to remember the glory days of years ago when it was the best thing going.”
“If you don’t like the place, why do you work here?”
“I can’t afford to be too picky. The job market isn’t exactly open for me right now.” She shrugged. “I go where I need to. Besides, I’m not afraid of a little hard work. You may not belong here, but I do.”
Evander thought of the file he had on her. Her mother died when she was eighteen, but before she moved to the city, she lived in a trailer park in a small town. He wanted to take her away from all of this. To fill her life with all the things she deserved.
She placed a beer right in front of him, and with no one else to serve, she grabbed a tray and headed out, scooping up the empty bottles and glasses that had been left on tables. He heard the sound of stickiness under her shoes as she walked.
He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her away from this shithole. She wasn’t happy. He saw it in her eyes. She avoided the men who were currently staring up at the stripper on stage. Callie didn’t look anywhere but at the tables. She moved as far away from the men as possible.
Evander kept an eye on them. None of them would be touching his woman.
