All is Lost (All Series, Book 2)

by Marie Wathen

  Scrubbing my swollen hand over the top of my head, I watch her face morph from fearful to comical.

  “Honey, we didn't do anything. I only wanted to make him jealous and you seemed more than happy to oblige me. But you vowed we wouldn't have sex, not even if I straddled you nude yelling, “Ride a horse, save a cowboy,” which is so completely wrong by the way.” She stammers, shoulders jerking out the rhythm of her giggles.

  I grab my boots and head toward the front of the barn after she points me in the direction of town and I set out on my way to find Candy.

  “Wait,” I say to myself. “Candy? Now where the hell did I leave her?” I look down the dirt driveway and realization hits me. I don't know her, and I can't get in touch with her. Hell, I couldn't find that little shack she calls a house if I wanted to, but what choice do I have?

  Walking two miles into town my feet are killing me by the time I spot anything recognizable. I luck up when as if I was blessed by God Himself, I spot Heaven on Earth, well, Heaven to me in the form of a Waffle zone. At precisely that moment my stomach reminds me that except for a liter of alcohol consumed last night, I haven't eaten in over twelve hours.

  Filling up on a greasy, bacon-cheeseburger and fries, I pay the tab and stand to leave. Going where? Noticing the phone on the counter I ask the waitress if I can make a phone call. Dialing the only number I've memorized for God only knows what reason, I wait for the ringing to stop and pray for a kind voice.

  Ten minutes later, I pace the sidewalk waiting for any sign of the police officer meeting me. Spotting a familiar red sports car creeping down the side road, I duck inside the doorway of the corner hardware store. Candy may be worried about me, but at this point I've got to look out for me. Yes, it's shitty to leave her here alone to fend for herself, but once I made the phone call and arranged to meet the Georgia state trooper I abandoned all thoughts of being someone's knight in shining armor. She's better off alone than having to deal with my selfishness, even I know that. Besides, I have shit I need to get off my chest, and I need to do it soon.

  “Hey boy!” A smirking tan faced, mid-twenties uniformed police officer strolls my way. Uncertain if he is the one I'm waiting on to arrive, I play it cool.

  “Hello officer,” I say respectfully. “How may I help you?”

  His smirk turns into to a full face grin and he claps his hands repeatedly.

  “Well, I'll be damn. You are a spitting image of her.”

  Stopping directly in front of me the officer extends a hand and I realize he is the guy who Sam sent to get me the hell out of here.

  “If you mean my sister then I guess so, although she actually resembles my identical twin more.”

  Dropping his hand from our handshake, he clutches his stomach tightly while laughing deep from within his belly. He regains control, slaps his hand hard on my back causing me to choke and gestures toward his patrol car.

  “Shit,” He says. “You're funny, too, but I don't have time for jokes. The names RD and unfortunately for me I owe your sister a big damn favor for saving my ass last year. So in paying her back you're coming with me.”

  “Well, damn, don't I feel the love.”

  “Huh, you will.” He threatens cryptically as we climb into the car.

  On the ride out of town after stopping of at his place, RD explains that he has plans to hang out with his buddy's on the river this weekend and no repayment, even one as big as he owes my sister, will stand in the way of him going to the party of the year.

  We settle down on a pontoon anchored next to several other large boats filled with inebriated rednecks. Laughing at the playfulness of it all, I join RD in downing a few cold ones and it is not long before the women begin swarming around us. Well, actually they swarm around RD like he has a golden dick.

  A loud group of guys climb on board yelling for five-oh and I realize that in these parts RD is a celebrity of sorts. Like a superhero, he is their “get out of jail free card,” so to speak. It's a very relaxed atmosphere as everyone mellows out with their adult beverages.

  The beginning of nightfall creeps upon us, and soon a guitar gets passed around between just about everyone, increasing the serenity on the river. I'm actually having a damn good time, even without being the center of attention with a woman hanging on my every word. Relaxing is exactly what I need, and after several hours of hanging out with RD and his buddies I have discovered that slowing down actually is a good thing. I absolutely never would have thought that before.

  After a few more drinks, and passing again on playing the guitar, I spot another small group of guys when they sidle up beside our boat. A few leap over the side rails and join us. One guy in particular stalks over and stands directly in front of me. Glancing up from my beer, I see a chafed expression frozen on his face as he glowers down at me.

  “Get up!” He commands. Boldly glancing around, I am clearly aware that he absolutely means me, but even if he is the biggest man I've ever seen in person, I refuse to coward down.

  “Peanut, leave him alone. He's RD’s guest.” One of the guys, whose name I don't remember, slurs to the giant towering over me.

  “Did he just call you Peanut?” I ask innocently, while disguising my snicker behind a weak cough. Seriously, I'm confused on how a man nearly twice my size and every bit eight inches taller than me earned such a minuscule nickname.

  Seething from detecting the humor in my question, he turns to the guy who defended me and growls, “I'm going to give college boy here exactly three seconds to haul his smart-ass out of my seat before I toss him overboard.”

  “I'll tell you what Peanut,” I say, crossing my legs at the ankle and tucking my hands under my arms. “If you want this seat you are definitely going to have to do just that, because I’m not getting up without someone helping.”

  After my last two fights I came out as the victor easily. So the way I see it, third time is a charm, right? Besides winning this one could be epic for my reputation. Although I don't really have a fighting reputation, I cannot pass up the opportunity of having a good story to share with the guys back home.

  A fat hand reaches down, grabbing the collar of my shirt and easily lifts me from the seat. Within seconds I'm regretting my last thoughts, as I hang suspended in the air staring at the ugliest face I have ever seen, growing redder by the second. The raucous group becomes quiet watching the scene, and strangely the music fades away. Everyone holds their breath in anticipation of what I may do in defense, but I don’t get the chance to devise a plan before he drops me down roughly on my back followed by a melon size fist driving hard into my left cheek.

  Several rapid blows to my head and stars begin dancing around in my field of vision. Distorted sounds invade my brain as a peculiar numbness creeps down my spine and straight to my gut. The colossal brute steps back, a satisfied grin snaking across his face. He graciously allows me enough space to pull my weak body up to stand. Swaying once, I stumble and feel the pull of gravity drawing me back down. I drop to my knees in front of the big guy.

  A clicking sound echoes through our somewhat hushed surroundings followed by a muffled angry voice.

  “Hey mother fucker, lay another finger on him and I'll waste your big ass.”

  Grunting in disbelief the giant fearlessly swats at me with a backhand landing across my right cheek leaving behind a twin to the bruise I'm sure is already blooming on my left. While smirking at my savior, he spits at the ground in front of me, turns and stalks away undaunted. Strong hands grab me around the shoulder and assist me with standing again. Staggering uncontrollably, I fight the pull of unconsciousness that rapidly threatens to force me down again.

  “Morgan,” A voice echoing from a far off place repeats my name several times, and I hear irritation growing with each one. I can't speak while everything spins so I wave a hand in acknowledgment. “Morgan, fucking answer me, now dammit.”

  Lifting my drooping head slightly, I smile completely grateful while staring into the pissed off face of m
y rescuer. I grunt softly, realizing that whatever was about to happen would not have been pretty and I'm thankful for being saved.

  “Let's get you home.” Sam states, draping my arm over her shoulder she walks us toward the waiting car. “The plane is waiting to take us back to Willow tonight.” She doesn't know it yet, but I'm not going back to the Walker mansion. I'll just save that argument for later. Pausing as we reach the car, she turns her head looking over her shoulder back at the party.

  “Where's RD?” She snaps, anger boiling up in her once again. Shrugging slowly, I reach for the open car door and drop onto the seat. “Wait here.” She yells running off toward the party again.

  Sliding down my seat, I place a hand on my face and lean against the doorway. Feeling the effects of the giant fist assault all over, I pray for unconsciousness to find me now and it obliges.

  A light jostling motion rouses me awake and I find myself lying horizontal on a fluffy cloud of down comforter and pillows. Peeking through the slits of my swollen, aching eyes I search my surroundings. I let out a sigh of relief at being back in the comfort and familiarity of my family's private jet.

  “Hey, you're awake.” Sam says, standing next to the edge of the bed. Dropping down beside me she stretches out kicking her sandals off, and rolls on her side facing me.

  “Do you know what we've been through?” Sam says, narrowing her eyes at me. “Do you have any idea what your disappearance did to me? Why do you have to be so fucking selfish Morgan?”

  “Nice one sis,” Still feeling overwhelmingly lethargic, I stare in disbelief at her. “But all of those questions you just asked are also very fucking selfish.”

  Turning away from her, I draw the soft pillow under my neck and squeeze my eyes shut feeling a sharp pain immediately. Is she serious about me being so selfish all the time? Except for my recent fleeing, when it comes to my family responsibilities I have always been the one doing the sacrificing while she and Marcus shrug it off to play in whatever it is they do together. I'm not buying into her game of let’s blame Morgan’s selfishness bullshit. The guilt I feel right now on my own accord is more than enough. I don't need it from her too.

  “Morgan,” Her voice cracks with emotion, making me feel worse, “Some really bad shit has happened since you ran off, and I was scared that I would never see you again.” Twisting back around I see tears streaming from her eyes and running down her neck rapidly. Drawing her against my chest, I rub her shoulder hoping to soothe her, but it actually increases her soft tears to body racking sobs.

  “Hey,” I whisper over the top of her head. “What's wrong Sam? What's happened at home?” I ask nervously. I've never seen my sister cry, and I don't fucking like it at all.

  “It's bad, Morgan.” Pulling away and whipping the sides of her face with the backs of her hands, she says, “Really bad.”

  She has my full attention now and I know whatever she is about it tell me will probably hurt like hell. Sitting up she pulls a pillow onto her lap and mindlessly stares at nothing in particular across the room.

  “There are things that I can't fully explain to you now,” She glances at me. “But I promise, when I can I will tell you every last detail. For now you need to know about what happened the night of the graduation party.” Craning her neck around to me, she offers a forced half smile before continuing.

  Sam explains the horrifying events of that night and assures me that Tristan is in the best medical hands that money can buy.

  “You know that I'm not a patient person,” I start. “And waiting for further explanation on why this shit went down at our home is going to be like going through my own personal hell, but I thank god that Tristan is still alive. Sam, I'm sorry I worried you. I can't imagine how you felt after all that shit and then my disappearance.”

  “I love you baby brother, and I'm sorry too.” Sighing loudly she vigorously shakes her head causing hair to fall into her face. With a trembling hand she forces a wayward lock behind her ear. Pinning me with a pained look she reaches down for my hand squeezing it softly. “I shouldn't have said what I did about you being selfish. It’s not fair. You're always the one who does what's expected. Well, except for this one time when you ran off to Vegas,” she smiles but it's another forced half smile. “Morgan, I know what happened to Tristan is bad and like you said, fortunately he is going to survive, but there's more. I hate dumping all of this on you now, but you need to know before we get home and someone blurts it out.” I nod waiting for her to finish. “Anna, Breesan and another friend of theirs was kidnapped after visiting Tristan at the hospital.”

  “I don't believe you.” A twisting feeling in the pit of my stomach begins, forcing a raging inferno of anger. “How could something like that happen? Who did this? And Sam, before you answer either one of those questions you better tell me now that they've found Breesan and Anna!” I bellow sitting up on the bed.

  My body aches and my head rattles with soreness from the raised tone in my voice. I am on the verge of losing it. Feeling something similar to demonic possession taking over my body, I give over control of myself to the vile revenge forming in my mind. Just knowing that someone has taken two women I actually care about scares the living hell out of me. What the fuck would someone want with Breesan and Anna, or the other woman? Wondering who the other woman is, I feel a strange and urgent need to know the answer.

  “Sam,” I narrow my eyes on her and ask. “Who was the friend with Anna and Breesan?” She pauses long enough to add to my distress, but before I can snap again she answers, “Her name is Waverly Collins. I don't think they are close, but she was with them in the hospital parking garage when some guys snatched them. There's been no word on a ransom and no one saw anything. At this point they're at a stalemate on the investigation.” She finishes so softly, I can barely hear her over the ringing in my ears.

  Devastated with the thought of someone harming Waverly, I feel like a damn elephant is crushing my chest and every last drop of blood is leaving my face. I sense a wave a nausea building in the pit of my stomach. Disbelieving that this could be true, I press my hand over the place on my chest where my heart lies feeling the loss so deeply I can actually feel a ripping effect. Forgetting that I'm not alone and seriously not giving a damn about my aching head, a harsh scream burst out of my chest.

  “NO!”

  She can't be gone. Not when I'm coming back home for her. Not when I finally realized that it is her that I need to make this life worth a damn. Waverly is everything and I refuse to let what happened that night at Club Toxic be the end of us.

  “Get me the fuck off this plane!” I demand, jumping from the bed no longer feeling the pain of my assault.

  I will get you back, Waverly.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Breesan

  This week has been challenging to say the least. I finally got some time to work out and Marcus insisted on teaching me how to shoot a gun. We spent an entire day on the range while he gave me precise directions on how to identify hostile stationary targets before shooting, as well as how to handle distractions while attempting to shoot a moving target. It was a total thrill ride and I can’t wait to do it again.

  Working at the club these last few nights without any sign of the bastards that abducted Anna and Waverly has me thinking pessimistically, and I hate it. It doesn't help that after Marcus visited Tristan at the hospital yesterday he told me that Anna's parents are acting completely, although understandably, irrational.

  Apparently they are blaming everyone, including the Walkers, for their daughter’s disappearance, when in fact they should be blaming the ones that actually took her, not innocent people. According to Marcus they've linked Tristan's shooting to her kidnapping and refuse to believe that the Walker family is blameless. Knowing they are directing their pain and anger at the wrong people crushes me. All of it is my fault, but I can't admit to it right now since everyone on Willow believes that I was taken too.

  With Morgan taking off after our kiss
, I feel a little responsible, but Marcus won’t let me accept that burden. I wonder if his disappearance has anything to do with the scene Waverly described during their argument. Could it be possible that Morgan really does love her, but he just can’t deal? Whatever’s going on I hope he finds his way back home soon.

  Rhys' plan isn’t working and the longer it takes to locate the bad guys the further away my best friend gets. I'm literally falling apart. Instinctively I want to hide away and bury myself under my wall away from the pain this loss is inflicting, but so much has changed and I refuse to give into the suffocating disparage that ruled my life for nineteen years. I'm holding onto my strength and doing every damn thing I can to not let Marcus know that I am silently suffering. It would be unfair for me to dump it all on him; he is affected by what has happened to Tristan, Anna and Waverly just as much as I am.

  “Good morning sweetness.” A whisper and vibration against my ear lets me know that Marcus is awake too.

  Opening my eyes to the bright sunlight, I see him grinning as he pulls his face away from the crook of my neck. Gazing deep into his beautiful green eyes, I wonder how I could have gone so long without his love. It's vital to my existence now, just as Tristan and Anna's is and that is why I need them back.

  “Morning Babe.” Stretching out, my muscles complain with a twinge of ache and I twist slowly around facing him. “I'm so beat and my body is grumpy from working so late last night,” I groan, utterly ticked that he can look so marvelous every damn morning. “You were with me all night, so how is it possible that you could have a smile this early in the morning?”

  “Because I get to wake up cuddling you every day,” he admits, drawing my head down against his bare chest. “There's nothing better in this world, except for maybe watching you while you sleep and then having your perfect smile greet me every morning sets my heart on fire.”

  I tilt my head up and smile sweetly at him. God, I love sleeping in Marcus’ arms every night. Dropping his lips to mine he drags across repeatedly, begging for me to part them. I haven't brushed yet and he knows that's one of my little pet-peeves so I refuse entry. Resigning he presses his mouth against my lips once more then slowly grazes along my cheek, stopping at my ear and nuzzling behind it with his nose. Taking a slow, calming breath his body relaxes, but he continues to hold me closely.