Guarding His Obsession

I hear a knock and check the security camera next to the door, seeing two of our men outside.

Nodding to Pink, I lean over and kiss Zoey on the forehead one last time. I can’t seem to keep my hands off her, and even now, knowing she won’t be in my sight makes me itchy to hurry this up and get back to her. It’s a feeling I’m not used to, having always liked being alone.

Pink passes by me with a wicked look on his face. He walks over to where Elle is sitting, and before she can protest, he scoops her up out of her stool, dips her back dramatically like something from an old movie, and plants a kiss right on her lips.

I bite my lip to hold in the laugh, and I look at Zoey who is doing the same.

After a moment, he breaks the kiss, sets her back down on the stool, and walks away.

“Asshole,” Elle mumbles as she touches her lips, and her cheeks turn bright red.

“As much as you keep mentioning your ass, Prinzessin, I can see that’s going to need attention first,” Pink says, not looking back as he walks out the door.

I look over to see Elle’s mouth drop open and her cheeks burn even brighter, so I leave her and a laughing Zoey alone in the apartment. When we get outside, I talk to my guys posted outside as a precaution, then Pink and I head to my truck.

“You sure you want to keep digging that grave?” I ask, looking over as Pink gets in the truck.

“As long as I end up buried inside her, I’m good.”

He doesn’t smile as he says it. The look on his face is serious. I just shake my head and start the truck, pulling out of the parking garage. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Pink go at a woman like that before. He tends to be the one pushing them away. When I go over to his family’s house for the holidays, his sisters’ friends swarm him, and he’s always, always trying to dodge them. It’s new to watch him chasing one. Well, maybe chasing isn’t the right word. It’s more like he’s planted himself.

“So you’re engaged?” His question doesn’t contain a trace of mockery. It comes out as an honest question, and I give him an honest answer.

“Yes.”

There’s not a second of hesitation in my answer. And not a single trace of doubt.

“Just like that?” he asks, and I hear the other questions that come along with that one.

“Yes,” I answer, not ready to go into it with him. There’s only one person I want to discuss this with and that’s Zoey. It’s nobody’s business but hers and mine. She took me off guard so easily. She just threw getting married out there, and I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I’m taking what she’s giving me. Was it quick? Fuck yeah, but I don’t care. We’ll have the rest of our lives to sink into each other, and I just fucking know, gut instinct, that she’s meant to be mine. And that instinct has kept me alive and has yet to steer me wrong. There’s just something about her that fits me.

“Alright.” Pink takes the hint, and I can hear a little understanding in his voice as he pulls out his phone. “So what’s the next move?”

“We head back to her apartment and talk to the security desk there. I didn’t want to mention this in front of them, but my request for digital copies of their security feed was denied.”

“Why? Didn’t you explain the situation?”

I growl a little bit and think about the email I sent earlier requesting it. The email I got in response was a firm no. I thought a personal visit might help convince them.

When we pull up outside of Zoey’s building, Pink and I jump out of the truck and go inside. The guard I spoke to earlier today is gone, and someone new is in his place.

The guy sitting behind the counter stands up as we approach. He’s about our age—late twenties, early thirties—tall with dark hair and dark eyes. No tattoos or piercings. His name tag reads “Ben.” I clock all of this before I get to him. At the same time, I check for exit doors and access points around me, points of entry were someone to sneak up on me. I’ll always do this when I walk in a room. Always check my surroundings and make sure I know exactly what’s coming from what direction. When I reach the desk, I see Pink lean on it and survey the room the same way I did. A product of years of training.

“Hi. I’m Drake Hart, and this is my partner, Daniel Pinkoski.” I nod towards Pink. The security guard takes a step back, his eyes darting between us. “We’re here with Hart Security about a disturbance in one of the homes in your building. I spoke with Orlando here at the front desk earlier this morning about obtaining some footage.”

“Orlando isn’t here,” he says, confirming what I already know. Orlando doesn’t get in for a few more hours.

“That’s fine. I’m sure you can help, Ben. I can tell you take your job seriously, and I’m also sure you wouldn’t want Miss Zoey Barber to come to any harm.”

He puffs out his chest a little, reversing his retreat. Bingo. I’d had a feeling this approach might work after I read the file I pulled on him. Ben here has tried to get into the police force twice. Denied twice, both times for a bad knee.

On paper he looks like a stand-up guy and might have made an okay cop.

“Orlando didn’t say anything about you stopping by.” He leans down, clicking on his computer a few times like he’s looking for a note. I’m sure Orlando didn’t tell him we’d be stopping by because he’d told us he wouldn’t be handing over any tapes. Some bullshit about protecting his other tenants. That I’d need a warrant if I wanted them.