This Is Love, Baby (War & Peace #2) (18 page)

“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.

She smiles and it quickens my heart. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

Her words unnerve me but I’m not sure why. She’s grinning and her eyes are shining but it’s almost too much. Like the time she told me she loved the necklace I’d bought her for Valentine’s Day, and then later admitted she didn’t wear much silver because it irritates her skin. I’d been shocked and saddened that she could lie so easily to spare my feelings. At the time, I thought it was sweet. But now, now I wonder if she’s lying to me again. To keep me calm. Why would she lie to me?

I narrow my eyes at her and frown. “Don’t leave while I’m gone.”

She blinks and her smile falls. “I promise I’ll be here when you get back with our food.”

This time I do believe her.

T
HE MOMENT THE
door slams closed behind him, I rush to the window. Several minutes later, I see his messy dark hair blowing in the wind as he emerges from the building below and trots across the street to a busy restaurant. When he turns to look up at the hotel, I duck away from the window and locate the phone.

He said to not leave.

And I won’t.

Not yet.

Not until I call the police. I’d been biding my time alongside Brandon since the cabin. I don’t know what’s happened to him, but I’m not sticking around to find out. He’s an angry, unstable, and volatile man whom I don’t even recognize.

Like the possessive way he behaved at the store earlier. I’d been horrified by the way he confronted that poor man for simply being nice to me. I know he’s keeping things from me. And I
know
he’s lying—I can feel it—and it scares the hell out of me. The way he took War’s money—it might not have been a blatant lie, but it was deceitful. Gabe may have been the psychopath in my story who dragged me into his deranged world, but Brandon’s erratic and controlling behavior fills me with the same sense of dread. And I refuse to lead a life of misery in anyone else’s steely clutches for as long as I live. I decide not to think about it too deeply, because if I do, I’ll fall apart. So, for now, I push it to the back of my mind. I need to find Land. He’ll keep me safe and help me get on my feet. We will search for my dad. Then, together, we can raise my child—his grandchild—in a non-toxic environment.

It’s time for me to stand on my own two feet.

I can do this.

It doesn’t take long for me to locate the number for the Oakland PD. Quickly, I dial and try to keep my fluttering heart calm.

“Detective Stark, please,” I mutter to the receptionist who answers. She tells me to hold and I’m soon listening to elevator music.

“Stark speaking.”

Her voice radiates authority and my nerves seem to hum with anxiety.

“Umm, hi, this is Baylee Winston.”

I hear her rushed breath come through the phone. “Miss Winston! Are you okay? Are you safe?”

I look toward the front door of the suite, expecting to see Brandon’s angry form materializing there.

“Um, for the moment. But I, uh, need to talk to you.”

She shuffles some papers and her voice is serious. “You have my undivided attention. Where are you, Miss Winston?”

I sigh and will the tears away. “San Francisco.”

“San Francisco? Are you still with Gabriel Sharpe?”

A tear rolls down my cheek and I sniffle. “No. I escaped, but then Brandon showed up and found me. Then, um…”

“And then…what, Miss Winston?”

“He—” I pause because whatever I say will implicate Brandon. The thought of him getting in trouble makes my chest ache. He may no longer be the boy I once knew, but that doesn’t mean he deserves to be put away as a result of Gabe’s actions.

“I’m listening.”

“He died. There was a struggle…and he fell into the cellar at the cabin. The cellar where he was first holding me captive.”

The line goes silent for a moment. “Where can we find his body, Miss Winston?”

I rattle off directions to the cabin, as best as I can, since I don’t know the address. When I finish, she speaks again. “Can you come down to the station so we can get your statement? Or can we come to you? Where in San Francisco are you, Miss Winston?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not coming in. Well, not yet at least.” Picking up the phone receiver, I walk back over to the window to watch for Brandon.

“Okay.” Her heavy sigh comes through the line. “Well, can you at least tell me more about the White Collar Trade group?”