Begin with You

by Burgoa, Claudia

  “The lemonade would’ve helped more.”

  “Thank you.” I try not to snarl at her, but she’s driving me insane.

  “Let me run to the employee room. I’ll be right back.” She walks away but stops at a booth and picks up a doll. It’s gray and raggedy.

  I take a step backward; it’s almost exactly like Ava’s old doll.

  “Hey,” Wes’ voice snaps me out of the trance that the toy put me in. “Are you okay?”

  Going crazy, but fine. I turn around to check on Peyton. She’s gone, and so is the doll. Did I imagine it?

  “Why are you here?”

  “Sterling told me he left you alone.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I say between clenched teeth. “Actually, I’m going back to work. My appetite is gone.”

  He frowns. “You’re not hungry?”

  “Yeah, I know,” I roll my eyes. “I never thought I’d say that. But it happens.”

  — — —

  I’m emotionally and physically drained. I’ve been working all day on the applications. Wiring money and requesting more information. Wes kept watching me. He brought me dinner around five and reminded me that I had to head home early. Thankfully, he had a meeting in Golden which is an hour drive from home.

  By eight, the only one left around the offices is me. I can see why Wes likes to arrive earlier than everyone and leave later. The silence allows me to work faster and think better. I’m done going through all the applications we received this year. Sending one last email requesting more information from an applicant who forgot to send it, I shut down my computer. My phone rings as I gather all my things.

  It’s a text from Wes.

  Wes: You’re not home yet.

  Me: How do you know that?

  Is he here? I unlock my door and check on his office door which is closed. I take a look around the empty building floor. It’s well illuminated, but quiet.

  Wes: Sterling just texted me.

  Sterling should be minding his own business.

  Wes: Are you alone?

  Abby: That’s a strange question. The security guard is around.

  Wes: Head home. You’re not safe.

  He’s being paranoid. We have security cameras on every floor.

  But I take his advice and pack up to leave. The garage is just as safe. My car is on the far end close to the garage exit, away from the elevators. Only a few more cars remain in the underground garage. When I pull the car door handle as I’m about to climb in, I see writing on my windshield.

  You can’t hide from me, bitch.

  My heart stutters in my chest and my body trembles. I scan the entire area, holding my breath as panic overtakes me. There’s nothing here. I take a picture because this can’t just be my mind playing tricks on me.

  Who is doing this? Earlier it was Ava’s old doll that jarred me. A toy that looked so much like it was in the booth, then in Peyton’s hands before they both disappeared. Someone left it at the café on purpose. It’s not my imagination; he’s watching me.

  Cold shivers run down my spine. I jump in the car and pull out of the parking lot as fast as I can. In less than ten minutes I’m turning left on Quebec Street. That’s the beauty of the streets in the area, they’re almost empty at night. The downside, the fucking traffic cameras. I’m positive that I’ll be getting a few tickets for going over fifty miles per hour where the speed limit was thirty-five.

  Once I enter the underground garage, I pull out my whistle and run to my apartment. My breathing is shallow from running from my parking spot to the stairs and all the way up. I know that I’m safe. No one can break into this building. My throat closes when I realize that whoever left the message on my windshield already accessed the highly secured parking lot at our offices without raising any red flags.

  Nothing will stop them from breaking into my apartment.

  I jolt when my phone rings. It’s Wes. I want to let it go to voicemail and answer it at the same time.

  Wes: Abby, pick up the fucking phone. I need to know where you are?

  “Hey,” I gasp for air.

  “Why are you out of breath?”

  “I decided to run up the stairs?”

  “Abigail, is everything okay?” His voice carries more worry than what I feel.

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” I dare to ask.

  Is he hiding something from me? Should I tell him what happen or just let it go?

  “I’m on my way home,” he announces, I hear the engine come to life.

  “Stop worrying about me. Everything is fine. I should be out of your hair soon.”

  “I don’t want you to leave,” he barks. “Maybe I didn’t handle things the way I should have when you told me, but the last thing I want is to lose you, Abby.”

  Is it? Because he’s pushing me further and further away.

  “What’s happening?” His voice mellows.

  Nothing is happening. So what if they are watching me? There’s nothing they can do to me that they haven’t already done. I don’t hang up but debate about what to tell him. In the meantime, I get water from the kitchen and look into ordering some food online. Maybe we can share one last meal. If I skip town tomorrow, I should be in Nebraska by evening or maybe Chicago if I drive twenty-hours straight. Sterling might indulge me.

  Instead, I decide to order food from the Greek place downstairs and just pick it up.

  “Souvlaki?”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m always hungry, unless I feel sick,” I remind him.

  “Order a combination platter, too,” he suggests.

  I hang up with him and place my order. They promise to have it ready in twenty-minutes. I hop in the shower and afterwards change into a pair of yoga pants, a t-shirt, and my Berkeley sweatshirt. I set my phone inside of my kangaroo pocket along with my credit card. My legs are still shaky from earlier. I decide to take the elevator. As I’m going out, I receive a text.

  Sterling: You want to hang out tonight?

  Abby: If you want to join us, we’re having Greek.

  Sterling: Wes is joining us?

  Abby: Yeah.

  Sterling: You two should figure out your shit. He’s heartbroken just like you.

  Abby: It’s better this way. He’ll find someone soon. He always does.

  I push the door open and walk toward the restaurant which is only a few steps from the door.

  “Hello, Abigail.” My back stiffens as I hear those words. That voice.

  “Shaun,” I say turning to my left.

  He doesn’t look much different. His eyes still look lost and his body fit enough to look healthy but not strong. I could maybe take him. But I should really run.

  “Your bodyguards aren’t with you?” He says, his eyes looking around.

  I hold onto the phone and move my fingers fast texting Sterling.

  “Put the phone down,” Shaun orders me, pulling out his jacket slightly.

  I notice the gun. Before I do what he orders, I glance at the screen and set my finger on the arrow to record voice messages, then shove my hand along with the phone inside my pocket.

  “What do you want?”

  “You don’t seem too afraid.” He takes a step forward. “You never were easily frightened. The little brave bitch who always fought me. Dad’s waiting for you.”

  “I don’t care,” I say with conviction. “Go away or I’ll call the police.”

  “Dad doesn’t get you, but I do.” He lifts his hands as if he’s about to touch me, and I take a step backward.

  “Stay away from me.”

  “Dad swore that you’d come easily,” he says. “But he doesn’t know you as well as I do.”

  He licks his lips. “You like it rough.”

  “I don’t like anything.”

  “Don’t lie to me, bitch. You like it when I rough you up. You think you’re better than us because you lived with those rich fuckers. I’ll have to remind you who you are, whore.” He laughs.


  His hot, rancid breath hits the back of my nose. He’s close enough that I lift my knee and hit him in his junk. I run toward the restaurant, hit send to the message, and call Wes.

  “He’s here,” I say gasping for air. “Shaun. He has a gun.”

  “Where are you?” His voice is urgent.

  “Inside the restaurant.”

  “Stay where you are,” he orders. “Please, don’t move. I’m calling the police.”

  “They can’t do anything,” I insist. Why can’t he believe me that the police are either powerless or they’re their accomplices.

  “Abigail,” Shaun’s voice is colder. “Have you heard of leverage?”

  “I explained to my father that you wouldn’t come willingly.” He grins with satisfaction, showing me his phone. It’s a picture of Peyton tied up in a trunk. “But you’ll do anything for your friends, won’t you?”

  “She’s nothing to me,” I control my emotions.

  “I beg to differ. Her grandma has so many stories about the two of you hanging out together.”

  I shrug. “That was years ago.”

  “Then I can tell Daddy to play with her and you wouldn’t care?”

  My blood freezes. “She’s not your father’s type.”

  “We’re all his type,” he says, emphasizing the words.

  I forget that Shaun isn’t just his father’s accomplice, he’s also his victim.

  “Are you going to kill Peyton just like you killed Ava?”

  His words hit me hard in the stomach. “I didn’t do anything to Ava,” I say weakly, knowing that I did. “You shot her. Not me.”

  “You let her die. After you, we had to move away and find new girls because you left to live a lush life. You murdered my sister and now, you’re killing Peyton too.”

  I cover my ears. He’s wrong. I didn’t do anything. He pulled the trigger; it wasn’t me.

  “Come with me, Abigail,” he says, grabbing my elbow. “You’re a good girl, and you want to save Peyton.”

  I do. She has a grandmother who counts on her and once she finishes her teaching degree she’s going to make a difference.

  “You swear you’re going to release Peyton?”

  “She’ll be free to do whatever she wants.” He crosses his heart and smiles. “I knew you’d see things my way. You always do.”

  “The only reason I’m following you, Shaun, is because I hope that this can be the end.”

  “It’ll be the end of you. If you beg nicely I might not make you suffer too much.” He winks at me with a look in his eyes that’s meant to scare me, but it doesn’t.

  This is over. It might be my moment to surrender, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me suffer. I’ll pass from this earth with dignity.

  Goodbye, Wes.

  To be continued …

  Don’t miss Back to You, releasing on August 9th, 2018.

  Do you want to meet Mason Bradley and Anderson Hawkins?

  Keep reading for a sneak peek of Unsurprisingly Complicated and Until I Fall

  Unsurprisingly Complicated

  Mason

  I should be in Seattle finalizing all the details for my trip to Argentina and then Costa Rica. Instead, I’m sitting next to my friend Ainsley Janine—better known as Nine—while listening to her future plans. She was back home from her therapy, and I came only because my gut told me I might not see her for a few years. However, before I could say something, my stomach twisted with the sight of her dry tears. There was no way I could leave without knowing what the hell happened to her. Porter, her asshole ex-boyfriend, had struck again.

  “I want to learn how to live, do all that I couldn’t because I lived under his magic spell.” Ainse brushes away the curls lingering around her face as she talks about the asshole she dated since the age of sixteen. “That's what you get when you live an enclosed life.” She gestures to the house where was raised and lived hidden from the outside world. While growing up, I thought it was cool that she had such a big home, but weird that she barely went outside the walls of the compound.

  Ainse is the daughter of two celebrities who liked to keep their lives private. Being famous makes a person fair game for the media. A famous marriage is like honey for the bees, except her parents aren’t only famous— they’re also two men. Same-sex couples were frowned upon back in the eighties when they got together. Adding the fact that they had three biological children would’ve been a parade. Christian Decker and Gabe Colt worked hard to make sure their children didn’t become part of the media circus, but there were still side effects. The isolation affected their children, Ainsley the most. Aisne is better now; she’s working on her shit. She’s getting her life on track, fixing her issues with her parents, and moving on from her abusive, shithead boyfriend.

  “Dates, nightclubs, bars, movie theaters.” She tells me all about the things she never did and plans to do. “The venues I only visited backstage. I want to concentrate on being me.”

  I don’t want her to go to bars, dates, or nightclubs. Well, she can go with me, but not on a date—as friends.

  “If one day a great guy comes along and offers that thing I want, I won’t shut him down because of my past,” Ainsley finishes, after explaining why she spoke to her scumbag ex-boyfriend on the phone when she should avoid him—forever.

  “That’s a mouth full.” I can’t think of anything else to say after she drops the bomb: she’s thinking about falling in love—again. How could she think about the next time when one fucking asshole cheated and emotionally abused her? That was plenty of evidence that should teach her to never again let her heart lead.

  Love: A sentiment that is unreal and usually leaves someone bleeding. Never happened to me; I won’t let it. “What’s that thing you want from your mysterious guy?” That’s better than telling her she’s fucking insane and that next time someone breaks her heart, I might not be around to pick up the pieces. But I can promise one thing: if it happens, I’ll beat the shit out of the guy for hurting her. Just like I did with her ex. No one hurts Nine.

  “A love story, his and mine. Ordinary, and yet extraordinary.” The shine in her bright eyes fill with hope and blind me. “One, unlike any other. You know how they say there're no two fingerprints alike in the world? Like that.”

  Until I Fall

  Aspen

  Scarlett: Where are you?

  I sigh as I see a group text from Scarlett and Brynn appear on my screen.

  Me: Heading home, you?

  Brynn: We’re going to Johnny’s. Do you want to meet us there?

  Me: Nope, I have a test tomorrow. Unlike you two geniuses, I have to study so I don’t flunk.

  Michael: What have I told you about texting and walking?

  I halt, gasping as I read Michael’s text. My lips spread into a wide smile thinking of him, how I miss his crystal blue eyes, his boyish grin and…I sigh. He’s so far away from me, and neither one of us has plans to visit the other until next Christmas.

  Me: Many, many …

  My heart beats faster, stopping me from typing. I narrow my gaze at the phone, then look up. I find him right in front of my apartment, sauntering toward me. He’s here. Slipping my phone inside my lab coat, I rush to meet him.

  “You’re here!” I jump into his arms, my legs hugging his waist, my hands cupping his face as I make sure he’s here—with me. It’s been so long; I can’t believe he’s here. The exhaustion disappears, who needs caffeine? His touch energizes me, that spark of ours is all I need to come back to life. “Why didn’t you call me? I’d cut class for you.”

  “Keys,” he demands. He kisses the corner of my mouth. “You look cute wearing that white coat, Doc.”

  I hand them over, anxious to be inside my place.

  “You can’t call me that yet. It’s going to take years for me to become one.” I nibble his neck. He growls while fidgeting with the lock. “Take us to my room.”

  “Where’s the scaredy-cat?”

  “Scarlett an
d Brynn went to one of the bars near campus,” I groan. He’s got to be kidding me. Asking for his sister just as we’re about to have sex. Is he for real?

  “Good, we have a few hours to ourselves. I love my sister, but I hate when she interrupts.”

  I can’t agree more; my bestie is wonderful until she turns into the third wheel. “Nothing like the present, then. To my quarters, my soldier.”

  “I’m not a soldier, and you’re too bossy tonight. I should spank you.” He squeezes my ass with one hand, burying the other between my curly hair, bringing his mouth down to mine.

  He kisses me slowly; tasting me for the first time, deeply. Our tongues dance, soothing our souls after all the time we were apart. My fingers grip the back of his neck, I release his waist, lowering myself off him. Suddenly it hits me, why he’s here. Like a sharp stab right in the center of my heart—he’s going on a mission.

  “You’re leaving?” He stays quiet, pressing me harder against his body and taking my lips again. I push him away gently. “For how long?”

  “You know I can’t say anything, Aspen.”

  I lean my head against his chest, listening to his heart. His beat slows like mine. My arms go around his waist and we stay like that for several minutes. Remember the pact. You not only agreed to love him as a man, but to understand who he is. He’s a SEAL. He lives to serve his country, to defend our freedom. A selfish part of me hates it. The rest understands that without men like him, the world would be a scarier place. Men like my fiancé are the ones who keep this country free. Still, I miss him when he’s away. I fear something bad might happen during those missions.

  After several minutes, and once I make my own peace, I straighten my spine, pushing down the fear, the panic, and everything that he doesn’t need from me. He needs a woman who will love, support, and accept him. Most of all, he needs me to wait for him while he fights for everyone. I release him. My hands slide down his chest, gliding down to the hem of his shirt, pulling it off his body, and leaving his well-defined torso bare.