Back to You
Claudia Burgoa
Copyright © 2018 by Claudia Burgoa
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, media, places, storylines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and-or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, of which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Contents
1. Abby
2. Wes
3. Wes
4. Wes
5. Abby
October 10th
October 21st
November 1st.
November 3rd
November 5th
November 7th
November 10th
November 30th
6. Wes
December 5th
December 11th
December 15th
December 23rd
January 1st
January 7th
February 13th
February 20th
March 20th
7. Wes
May 2nd
May 5th
July 8th
August 9th
8. Abby
9. Abby
10. Abby
11. Wes
12. Abby
13. Wes
14. Abby
15. Wes
16. Wes
17. Abby
18. Abby
19. Wes
20. Abby
21. Abby
22. Wes
23. Abby
24. Abby
25. Abby
26. Wes
27. Abby
28. Wes
29. Wes
30. Abby
31. Wes
32. Abby
33. Abby
Epilogue
Two summers later …
The End
My One Regret
Fervent
Dear Reader,
Acknowledgments
Also By Claudia Burgoa
About the Author
1
Abby
Fight. I tell myself as the car parks along the sidewalk.
We’re back where it all started. The old house is a gray blur behind the rain-washed window of the car. It’s smaller than I remember. Looking at it closer, I realized that nothing has changed. The color remains as vivid as it was six years ago. The paintwork on the trim is a darker gray, but still flawless, and the path that winds to a double oak front door is cracked. The porch is nothing more than a wooden box with the old rocking chair where grandma used to sit and knit while I played outside with my friends.
My heart sinks because this is the place where I met Peyton and we became such good friends. Each time she visited her grandmother, we’d play outside until her parents had to leave. My favorite visits were when her parents traveled. Peyton stayed for an entire weekend or the whole week. We’d have slumber parties or go to the drive-in movie theater.
I choke on a sob. She’s suffering because of me.
“Walk faster,” Shaun orders, opening the door that creaks as he pushes it.
My heart beats fast. Run, a voice begs me to move. I’m tempted to escape, but how far could I get before he shoots me? What would happen to Peyton if I couldn’t help her?
I could scream, but would anybody care? Ava and I tried that once. Every time a neighbor came to check on us, my mother would tell them I was unstable.
“Poor little Abigail Lyons. She’s losing her mind,” someone once said. “She’s been so different since her grandmother died.”
No one cared or ever wondered if I needed help.
No one will help you if you scream. Be careful. You might not be able to save Payton if you do.
Then, how am I supposed to get out of the house while saving Peyton?
Use your head, Abby.
First, I need to make sure she’s all right. Then, I can call Wes and tell him where to find me. Did I hang up our call? Oh god, I wish he hadn’t left, but what if Shaun had killed Wes while he tried to save me? I feel sick to my stomach just imagining what could have happened to him if he had been close. When I cross the threshold, I heave with the combination of fear and musty stench that scratches my throat. The calming sweet-strawberry scent I remember is gone forever.
“Keep moving,” Shaun orders.
I almost lose my footing when he pushes me, but an old green couch next to the entrance breaks my fall. This feels surreal. I never thought I’d end up back here. For a second, I stand, my breathing suspended as I take in every piece of furniture and object. The leather couches Mom replaced when she moved in with me are gone, along with the ridiculous lamps she ordered from a custom store. They were tall, heavy, and I wish they were here so I could use one to hit Shaun.
“Where is Peyton?” I can’t do anything until I find out her whereabouts.
Corbin might have her somewhere else. I look at the white door that leads to the scariest room in this house. Is she in the basement?
“You’ll never know if she’s safe or not, Abigail. You’ll die not knowing if coming with me saved her or not,” he taunts me in a low voice.
Stupid, stupid, I chide myself. He won’t let you go. You’re going to die here, like Ava and your mother.
Run! Go now!
He grabs me from behind before I can make a run for it. I twist, but he yanks me to the stairs.
“You’ll fight me, won’t you?” His words sound hopeful. Sick bastard. “This is going to be the most fun I’ve had in years.”
I can’t help but gasp when we enter my old room. The furniture is gone, and in its place is a table with restrains. There’s a small couch in the middle of the bedroom and a couple of cameras right next to it with professional lights and filters for film.
“We had a deal. If I came with you, you’d let Peyton go.” I stand up to him.
He waves his gun. “Take off your sweatshirt and your shoes.”
“Kill me. Just do it.”
Shaun’s green eyes narrow; he lifts the gun. I hold my breath thinking of Wes and our last kiss. Missing him and his arms. God, I’ll never get to see him again.
“Nah, this will be too easy. You have to pay for everything you fucked up. I’ve been waiting six years for this day.” He adjusts the gun in the halter he wears and pulls out a knife. “I’ll slice your skin. Deep enough so it hurts. Fuck with me, and I’ll do the same to Peyton.”
I do as he says, setting my sweatshirt on the floor, carefully. Hopefully, he won’t notice I still have my phone with me. If I’m lucky, Wes can track me. But then, what can he do? I’d die if something happened to him. Those men who visited us earlier, could they do something? At least save Peyton? I need to stall Shaun, find out what he’s planning, or at least buy myself time while I figure out how to escape from this godforsaken place—alive.
“You made a few changes,” I try to be casual.
He like
s when I shake with fear. That’s what gets him off more than anything else. I won’t give him the pleasure. He’ll have to push me to my absolute limit to see me cry or beg for my life.
“We did. This is all for you, Abigail.” The way he says my name makes me flinch. I grind my teeth hating myself for not carrying a gun to kill him with or being strong enough to overpower him.
Shaun grabs my wrist, trapping them behind my back and using plastic zip ties to secure them. A sob catches in my throat, and my eyes fill with tears when his hand digs into my hair, yanking it hard.
Keep your shit together. Don’t let him know that he’s getting to you.
“Shaun. I’m so touched. You went through so much trouble, and just for me.” I chuckle, masking the pain. “Since when do I deserve such consideration.”
He pulls me closer to him. His green eyes bore into mine. The sight is so scary; I fight my trembling body. Keep yourself together. It’s like there’s nothing there to behold. An endless chasm of hate. He’s shut off the humanity inside him and hatred instead has become the fuel of his life. I’m scared but not like before because he’s already put me through hell. Even when I tried, my mind never forgot his brutality.
“You could’ve taken me wherever you live.” Peyton might be there, and if I convince him to take me to her, I’d be buying us some time.
“That’s exactly what I said, but Dad wants you buried with the rest of them.”
I’m confused by his statement and terrified of the implications. Which others? Shaun looks at his cellphone. “If only he could hurry the fuck up and get here.”
“Daddy is still in charge?” I poke his ego.
“Shut the fuck up, cunt.” He shows me his knife, setting it too close to my face. I swallow hard but remain in control.
“I’m my own fucking boss. This is an exception.”
“Again, so touched for your consideration.”
He pulls out his phone and makes a call. “Where the fuck are you? I have the cunt with me and if you’re not here soon, I’ll start. I don’t give a fuck if you miss her grand finale.”
“Daddy’s going to get upset if you don’t obey, Shaunny.” I use Ava’s nickname for him. She would call him that whenever she was in too much pain or too exhausted after several guys had used her.
The nickname guilted her sick, twisted brother into fighting his father whenever she said it, because deep down he loved her.
“I ordered you to stop.” He puts the knife under my throat. “One more word and I’ll start your last scene, with or without him.”
“Well, we can always go to him,” I suggest.
“He’s out of town doing business,” he says, tapping the screen on his phone. “To think that we almost missed you. Who the fuck do you think you are? You’re mine. Does your boyfriend know who you belong to?”
I want to answer, but the words are stuck in my throat, clogging the air ducts.
“You only got away before because we were distracted, but this time I won’t let you go.”
My mind travels to graduation day when I saw him. He was walking closer to me, but Wes took me into his arms and the bad memory melted away. It wasn’t a memory, I really saw him. He was there to take me away.
I wish I were strong enough to save myself today. My heart stops when I process his words. “Wait, how did you know I was leaving?”
“Sweet Peyton texted me earlier to tell me that you were skipping town,” he laughs.
“How do you know her?” I look around searching for something to hit him with, but there’s nothing. My hands are tied behind my back.
“Let’s just say that she’ll do anything for me.” He grins.
My heart beats fast. “What do you mean?”
“Shut the fuck up, Abigail.” He growls, yanking my hair hard.
“I thought you liked it when I talk. That’s what sells best, isn’t it?” I say boldly.
“Shut up,” he hisses as his fist slams into my face. “I’ll break every bone in your body. When I’m done with you, your boyfriend won’t recognize you. No one will claim you.”
Shaun tears my tank top and shoves a large piece of the fabric inside my mouth. I gasp, the air scraping my lungs as I try to breathe.
“You’ll beg for your life, for mercy. But not until I say so. Dad has to be here. He wants to do it. In the meantime, I can do whatever I want.”
He smashes his fist against my temple.
2
Wes
I run both hands through my hair and grab the wheel when the car next to me honks. My eyes well up as the fear that I won’t get to her in time intensifies. I drive faster swerving through the traffic on I-25. I take the nearest exit and park. The cards from the HIB guys are right in my wallet. The call to Bradley goes directly to voicemail.
“Bradley, Shaun just took Abby. Please call me.”
I call Hawkins and the same happens.
“Hawkins, this is Weston Ahern. Please call me as soon as you can. They’ve got Abigail.”
I send a text to both numbers.
9-1-1 Abigail was taken by Shaun. Call me.
Since that’s all I can do, for now, I continue my trip home. A few minutes later Sterling calls. I ignore his call. He sends me a text. The car asks if I want it to read it for me. I press the checkmark on the wheel.
“Weston, I just got the weirdest text from Abby; would you like to reply to this message?”
“Yes.”
“What would you like to say?
“What was it?” I reply.
The computerized voice announces there’s another text from Sterling. I ask her to play it right away.
“It’s a long recording. Abby’s talking to some guy about Peyton and Ava. I think that’s her sister’s name, right? I saved it. I’m on my way to your house. She might be in danger.” Would you like to reply to this message?”
As I’m about to respond, a call enters. The dashboard displays an unknown number. I click the wheel, answering almost immediately. It could be one of the HIB guys. A gruff voice comes in almost immediately.
“Ahern, this is Mason Bradley. We got your messages. Are you one hundred percent sure about this?”
“I was on the phone with her. She called me, scared because Shaun confronted her outside our building.” My voice trembles as I recount our conversation word for word. I grasp the wheel tightly, finding my balance.
This is about Abby, not me.
“She went willingly because a friend of hers, Peyton, might be in danger.” I finish feeling fucking mad at her because she always wants to save everyone.
“How long ago was this?”
Feels like fucking forever. I try to think of how much time has passed between now and then.
“It hasn’t been long, twenty or thirty minutes. I tried to reach her but …”
He covers the phone, and I can hear him mumbling but can’t make out any words. I rush down the road, waiting for an answer. Maybe I should’ve called the police. No, I did the right thing. These men looked capable. They’ve been investigating these guys since I emailed them and arrived in my office offering a solution.
“Where are you?” He asks.
“On the highway, driving toward home.” Looking up, I see that I’m about to reach my exit.
“I need you to pull over and text me her phone number,” Mason orders. “We’re going to trace the signal. Hopefully, we can find her soon.”
And then what are they going to do? I wish I had hired someone to protect her when she first told me about Shaun and Corbin. Or when HIB was in my office. They didn’t have enough people, yet they made it sound as if everything was under control. But it wasn’t, and now I could lose her.
“What’s the plan?” I ask, spotting Sterling parking his car.
I drive closer, and after I park my car right next to his, I text Bradley her phone number.
“We find her and bring her home,” he simplifies it.
“How are you doing it? You said you’
re from the Northwestern part of the country. It’s going to take you hours to reach her. I should call the police.”
He exhales. “Fuck, why aren’t you like all the other rich bastards who hire us and stay out of it? Let us do our jobs.”
I didn’t fucking hire him. Maybe I should’ve and then he’d be more helpful.
“Look, I’m in town. We had a breakthrough. My team and the equipment arrived this afternoon. We have been working around the clock.”
“Then, how the fuck did you let this happen?” I bang my hand against the wheel.
Closing my eyes, I summon a deep breath, holding it in. Turning my head a fraction, I look blindly skyward praying for a miracle and the strength to get me through this.
“We got Corbin. He’s in custody. The son wasn’t with him as I had hoped. He’s off the grid. A ghost. We know he exists, but he’s been hiding for years. His father destroyed his records when he was eleven and the mother died. Our best bet is hacking Corbin’s phone to locate him. Which I’m working on as we speak.”
I understand what he’s saying. Some parents keep their children hidden for years or decades while they use them—or torture them. There’s no record of me before the police raided the house where I lived. God knows where I’d be if the police hadn’t found me and gotten me into the hands of the Aherns.
Back to You (Chaotic Love Book 2) Page 1