by K. Webster
“Yes,” I assure her, “I’ll do whatever needs to be done as long as we get Baylee back.”
She smiles at me but when my dad stops pacing to glare at her, her smile fades.
“My son won’t go to jail for this,” he clips out in a cold tone and gestures to me. “You need to give us your word he won’t be implicated in any way for his involvement.”
Stark glances at Shilling and nods. Her smile is gone but she seems fine with his request and approaches my bedside. Her proximity unnerves me but I grit my teeth and hold still. “Mr. McPherson, with your help on this case, we would be willing to provide you with immunity in exchange for your assistance. After all, we’re after the bigger fish here. Gabriel Sharpe and the WCT are the biggest whales in the Pacific. We get Sharpe, we get your girl. We bring down WCT, and we get a whole bunch of girls.”
“The doctor says he’ll be here in the hospital for another week, maybe two,” Dad interrupts. “He’s in no shape to be helping right now and—”
I meet her gaze with a serious one of my own. “I’ll do it. Dad, I can access everything I need from my laptop and can get to work here in the hospital. Get me that, my phone, and my wireless access point. I’m going to get them whatever they need to help find Baylee.”
He groans but nods in resignation. “Of course, War.”
Stark pats my knee and smiles. I’m shocked that I don’t recoil from her touch. But my mind isn’t focused on her anymore. It’s flying through codes and possibilities. My mind is counting numbers, recalling articles about sexual crimes in California, and contemplating thousands of different avenues I can travel via the Internet to exploit the parties involved. It was Baylee’s wish to bring down this sex ring. She mentioned it to me on numerous occasions. If I can help give her that and bring her home at the same time, I will. All for her.
“Thank you,” she says and pulls her card from her breast pocket. She tosses it onto the table and extends her hand for me to shake it. “We’ll be in touch. Get me anything and everything you can find.”
My eyes fall to her slender hand. The nails are clean and polished. She doesn’t seem to be crawling with diseases, unlike her partner. With a swallow, I shove my fear down and clasp her warm hand. The handshake is brief, thank God, and then she releases me. They leave without another word and my eyes travel to find the worried ones of my father. My hand quakes from residual fear from touching her but I force myself not to obsess over it. Instead, I take another spoonful of my applesauce as I think about her—my Baylee.
Pretty blue eyes.
Sweet smile.
Compassion that radiates from her like a million rays, more brilliant than the fucking sun.
Swallowing the food, I look over at my dad and clench my jaw. “We’re going to get her back.”
His lips press into a firm line and he nods. “Of course we are, son.”
The police may want the bigger fish to fry, but not me.
I want my Baylee.
My heart.
My peace.
“DON’T TOUCH MY girlfriend,” I snarl, spittle spraying his face.
The salesman at the department store has the sense to look ashamed and jerks his hand from her arm and holds both palms up in defense. I’d been watching both of them laugh for the past five minutes as he held up different styles of jeans for her to look at and it was pissing me the fuck off.
“D-Dude,” he stutters, “I was being friendly.”
“She’s not yours to be friendly with,” I snap.
Thin arms wrap around my middle and try to pull me away. “Stop it, Brandon.”
I relax in her embrace. “Think twice before hitting on a girl who’s taken.”
“I wasn’t hitting on your girl, man,” he says and shoots Baylee an apologetic glance. “I’m gay.”
He gives her an awkward wave and turns to leave us.
“Thanks for all your help,” she clips out as she releases me and the storms away.
Fucking great. I trot after her and watch as she angrily snatches up all her bags full of clothes and necessities from the bench I’d abandoned.
“Can we go to the hotel now?” she grits out and shoots me a glare. “I’m tired.”
Frowning, I nod and follow after her toward the parking lot. Once we’ve loaded the bags into the truck and get in, she’s composed herself.
“I want my own room.”
I’m already shaking my head. Fuck that. “No.”
She snaps her head over to glare at me. “Why the hell not, Brandon? I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’re violent and unhinged. I need space.”
Violent?
Unhinged?
Of fucking course I am!
She was stolen right out from under my goddamned nose. They raped and fucking tortured my girl. Fuck them and fuck her attitude right now. I saved her yet she has no gratitude whatsoever.
“I don’t have enough money for you to get your own room. Sorry.” My lie and the firm tone I deliver it with silences her and I put the truck in drive. Eventually she finds her voice again.
“Unbelievable,” she mutters and crosses her arms across her chest, glaring out the window.
The trip to the hotel is quiet. Things will be rocky until we find our way again. I’ll always be wary and fucking suspicious of anyone who even breathes her way after all that’s happened. It’s my duty to protect my girlfriend. I failed once and I sure as hell am not ever letting that happen again.
We pull up to the front of the hotel. It’s swanky enough that a valet clerk greets us. “Good afternoon. Would you like us to park your vehicle while you check in?”
The clerk brings over a cart and we load our things up. Baylee remains all but mute with her eyes downcast. I shouldn’t have flipped the fuck out at the department store—I know this—but I was pissed. That fucker, gay or not, was touching her. I’m responsible for her now and that means protecting her from everyone.
“Come on,” I tell her and pat her bottom as we walk into the hotel. The lobby is all brick on the inside but with an elegant, modern décor to give it a rustic yet restored feel. There aren’t hotels like this back in Oakland and I’m eager to spend some alone time here with my girl.
Baylee walks off to stare at a painting on the wall. It’s of the ocean. I’ll have to take her to the beach soon. Her shoulders have relaxed and she seems much calmer than she was in the truck where she looked like she wanted to rip my head off.
“Do you have a reservation, sir?” the slender woman at the counter asks.
She’s pretty, her blonde hair pulled back in some up-do thing. Red paints her lips making her look like a whore. An expensive one but still a whore. She doesn’t compare one iota to Baylee’s natural beauty. Upon making eye contact, she frowns. Her eyes skitter over my young, boyish face and she predetermines I can’t afford her pricey hotel. It’s written all over her face and it annoys me. I flash her an easy grin, despite my irritation, which causes her to smile back. Truth is, I’d love to throw wads of hundred dollar bills in her face but I can’t be an arrogant asshole. I need her help.
“Actually, no,” I say sadly, “but I really want to surprise my girlfriend with something fancy. This is her birthday present.”
The girl’s lips press into a firm line when she glances over to see Baylee, looking stunning as hell in her simple yoga pants and my hoodie. I’m sure she’s working out a way to nicely tell me no.
“I see,” she says softly and taps at the computer. “Unfortunately, sir, it appears we’re booked.” And there it is.
I raise an annoyed eyebrow at her in question but then quickly pull my lips into a frown, doing my best to give her the puppy dog look. It must work because she has the sense to look embarrassed and her cheeks turn pink. Do whores even blush?
“You don’t have anything available?”
She chews on her red lip. “Well,” she lowers her voice. “We have one of the VIP suites we keep open for emergencies. But it’s pricey, sir.”
“Umm,” she says and then sighs, “it’s two thousand dollars a night.”
“Two thousand a night!” Baylee hisses as she approaches. “I thought you didn’t have any money! No, Brandon, we’re going to the Holiday Inn.”
A growl escapes me, startling both the women. I yank out my wallet and slap my credit card down on the granite countertop. “Book us for the week. The suite.”
The suite is huge and overlooks Fisherman’s Wharf, which is bustling with evening activity. There’s a crab restaurant that I want to take her to and maybe take her to one of the shops after to buy her an engagement ring.
The thought of sliding a pretty diamond on her slender finger sends a ripple of excitement through me. This is it. I always knew I’d marry her—I just assumed it would be after college. But, with us both high school dropouts now, there’s no reason to wait. Who needs college when you’re fucking loaded anyway?
I smirk down at the crowd below before turning to regard Baylee. She’s sitting on the small sofa in the suite with her purse in her lap. Her eyes aren’t roaming the beautiful space or gushing about how fucking cool it is. Instead, she’s wringing her hands together.
“What’s wrong? Do you not like it here?” I question and saunter over to her.
She flinches when I sit down beside her on the couch and just like every time before—which there have now been several—it irritates me. Everything I do is for her. All of it. If only she knew the things I’ve gone through. Endured. The things I’ve done. The dark paths I’ve taken.
Her left foot is tapping rapidly. I am about to repeat my question when she says, “We need to call the police and tell them about Gabe’s body at the cabin. I’m ready to tell them what I know about the sex ring as well. There were some bad people, Brandon,” she says, her sparkling blue eyes finding mine. “If anything, maybe they can go after the other assholes who are still selling women into human trafficking and sex slavery out there. These are innocent women, Brandon. Women like me, who were taken and sold as if they were commodities rather than people. Not all of the buyers are good, honest people like War.”
I run my fingers through my hair and groan. She’s defending that freak again. Her speaking to the police doesn’t sit well with me but I feel like she’s slipping through my fingers. The last thing I want her to feel like is that I’m imprisoning her or controlling her. Gabe did enough of that to her to last a lifetime. Baylee is a free spirit. Independent and strong. I need to give that to her so she’ll trust me. We’re slightly broken and I need to do whatever I can to fix it.
“Fine, we’ll call them together. You can talk and I’ll sit here. We’ll have dinner afterwards.”
She shakes her head and grabs hold of my hand. Her touch ignites a fire within me and my heart thumps to life.
“I’d like to do it on my own,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes, making them look like tiny Caribbean oceans. “I’m embarrassed about the things that happened to me. Please. Let me do this on my own. You can order us some take-out and bring it back. It shouldn’t take long.”
I clench my teeth hard enough to make my jaw ache as I search her eyes for deception. But I find none. They only reflect the Baylee I know. Sweet, innocent, untarnished by the cruel fucking world. God, I love her.
Sliding a hand into her hair, I then rub the pad of my finger over her temple. She’s so beautiful. Gabe tried to stomp on my gorgeous girl’s nature and body, but she survived. Baylee not only made it through, but it somehow made her even more alluring. She’s no longer that delicate flower the world was threatening to crush. No, now she’s sporting some sexy-as-hell thorns.
“Please,” she utters and then leans forward, parting her lips.
I’m so stunned that she’s initiating a kiss, I don’t realize that’s exactly what it is until her soft lips are pressed to mine and a small whimper pours from her. It slides down my throat and strokes the pelt of my inner beast. The dark parts inside of me shimmer briefly to life.
I crave to deepen the kiss. To push her down onto the sofa and kiss her like there’s no tomorrow. My cock begs for me to tug her yoga pants from her body and sink inside her tight heat.
But I can’t.
She’s barely warming back up to me.
I won’t ruin it out of desperation to mark and claim her for the first time.
It takes everything in me but I pull away from her kiss and grin. “Sure, babe. I’ll get us some food.”
She beams at me, but for a brief moment something flashes in her eyes. I don’t recognize the glimmer. It’s dark and foreign. Before I can pinpoint what it is, she reaches forward and pushes some of my hair from my eyes.
“You need a haircut,” she says and then laughs. I search her face for sadness or anger. Or anything. Something was there but now it’s gone. Now she’s happy. Almost too happy.
“Babe,” I start slowly, “is something wrong? You looked upset for a minute.”
Her eyes widen and she bites on her lower lip. I drop my gaze to her mouth and crave to nibble on it too. Later. Definitely later.
“I was just wondering…”
I arch an eyebrow at her in question.
“Where’d you get all this money, Brandon?”
My eyes tear from hers and I flick them to the painting on the wall behind her. Black brush strokes up and down. Left and right. Smudging together, attempting to hide the red blob beneath. It kind of feels like my heart. Like I have a black paintbrush of deceit trying desperately to cover up the hate. What the hate made me do.
“Brandon.” I feel her hand squeeze mine. “Tell me.”
With a sigh, I meet her eyes. “I took his money. That freak you were with. He took what was mine, so I took his money.” The bite in my voice is sharp and not meant to sting her, but it does.
Her eyes widen and her plump lips part open. “The money War sent for Mom? You took his money?”
The way she says his name, as if he’s precious to her, sends ice through my veins. “Your dad had clearly bailed. Fucking asshole,” I snap. “After I found the note, I’d seen in the emails that he was receiving money for your mother and she had already died. I figured we could use it, babe. It’s our money to start over. We can buy a house and—”
“Wait.” She shoves off the sofa and retreats a few steps. “You read those emails between Dad and me? And you didn’t try and reply back to me?”
Shit!
I blink my eyes several times to try and figure out a way to dig myself out of this hole. “Babe…”
“No! Don’t ‘babe’ me. You could have reached out to me then. You could have told me Dad had left and that Mom had died. Why didn’t you reply to me? I thought you loved me!”
Tears well in her eyes but she doesn’t look sad anymore. Her face is red. Her fists are clenched. Her breaths are labored. She’s pissed the hell off. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m growing more nervous by the second. She’s slipping through my fingers faster now, and I don’t know how to make it stop. I need her to understand.
Without thinking, I grab onto her hips and haul her to the wall next to the painting. “Love. I do love you. And you loved me too but then the moment someone else stuck their dick inside you, you forgot about that love. Reduced it to nothing but a fucking memory. Did you ever even think about me?”
“This isn’t about you and me!” she cries out and shoves at my chest, but I don’t move. “This is about your lies—about you deceiving me! This is not about us or our love.” My girl is tiny and weak. Snatching both of her wrists, I push them against the exposed brick above her head. She squirms her body but when I smash my hips against hers, pinning her to the wall, she freezes. Terror swims in the pools of her eyes. Fucking terror. She’s afraid. Of me.
“Of course this is about us,” I hiss, dropping my voice to a whisper. “Or course it’s about our love. Tell me. How could you forget about me so easily? Not one second of one day went by where I didn’t think
about you, babe. I obsessed over finding you.”
She presses her lips together when I lean forward, but I kiss her anyway.
“Baylee, I didn’t respond to those emails because I assumed it was someone pretending to be you. I was confused.” It’s mostly the truth. She didn’t seem like herself at all. Not my sweet Baylee. My girl would never willingly run off with someone else when she had me.
The terror melts away as her expression changes to one of determination. It doesn’t fit, considering our proximity and the anger emanating from me. She should still be quivering and frightened, but she’s not.
“I’m sorry, Brandon.” Her words weave themselves through my heart and slip under the black smudges. I hold them there closely. Guard and protect them. Nurture and love them. “You’re right. It probably must have been very confusing for you. I’m so sorry.”
Relief floods through me and I let out a rush of air. Crisis fucking averted.
“I love you, Baylee Marie,” I murmur as I release her wrists and then slide my palms down her arms and to her hips.
She’s still stiff but she lets me kiss her this time, her mouth opening to give my tongue access. God, she tastes so fucking good. I can’t wait to taste all of her. My mind flits back to the brief taste I snuck from her last night, and although I know I was a bastard for doing it, my cock hardens at the mere thought. I need more. To consume her as I make love to her. I need her like I need goddamned air.
“I’m hungry,” she murmurs when I finally break away. “I’ll make the call while you grab the food.”
I want to tell her I’m not hungry for anything but her. That I would rather spend the night licking and nibbling every part of her flesh. How I’d love to bury my tongue deep between her thighs and bring her pleasure. But then her stomach growls and I pussy out. I do need to feed her. The pleasure can wait. We have the rest of our lives.
“I’ll be back as fast as I can. Make the call and don’t leave this suite,” I instruct as I pull away.