by K. Webster
Perhaps it’s me that’s sick, not the birds.
I think about how odd my body has been. The nausea. The sore breasts. The missed period. I’m nervous to bring it up to him, yet excitement threads through me. We’ve created something from our love. I’m certain there’s a little love bud growing inside of me.
A smile graces my lips and I press a soft kiss to his chest. I slide my palm down along his lower abdomen until I’m gripping his hardened cock between us. His soft breaths tell me he’s still asleep and I almost giggle aloud, knowing I’m about to wake him up.
I crack open an eye and tilt my head to look up at him.
My world spins and darkness swarms in like a horde of angry bees.
Not soft, peaceful features and a familiar scar.
Instead, dark, hard lines and edges. No scar.
His hot dick in my hand feels like an abomination and I jerk my hand from it as if it were a snake filled with poisonous venom. Short, choppy breaths rush from me as I inch myself away from the evil that lies before me.
The memories come crashing down around me. War. The gunshot. The blood. Bile rises in my throat and a scream remains lodged there. Sunshine from the window blankets us but it’s a farce.
I’m not in a cozy cabin, happily whisked away with my lover.
I’m in hell with the devil. I’m his prisoner.
But I’m not bound.
A thrill kick starts my dead heart to life. I slip out from under Gabe’s heavy arm. His soft snores an indication that he’s still deep in sleep.
This is my moment.
This is my opportunity.
Probably one of the few I’ll get.
I slip off the bed and nearly collapse. My legs are aching and shaky but I don’t let them deter me in my pursuit for escape. Quickly, I snatch up his discarded shirt and yank it over me. Since Gabe is much taller than me, the shirt hits me mid-thigh, providing enough coverage for me to get the hell out of here.
The floorboard creaks beneath my feet and I jerk my gaze over to Gabe. No change in his movement. I have to go. Now!
On tiptoes, I hurry out of the bedroom and down the hallway toward the front door. It isn’t locked—why would it be? Nobody would burst through the devil’s front door on their own accord. I wrench it open as quietly as I can.
Squeeeeeak!
The door protests when I open it and it’s loud. There’s no turning back now. I have to go.
I push through it and stride down the steps. The memory of a few months before—him chasing me through the woods—is at the forefront in my mind. If anything, it only spurs me to go faster. With long strides, I ignore the bite of the gravel driveway on my bare feet as I put as much distance as I can between me and that godforsaken cabin.
“Goddammit, Baylee!”
His furious words from behind me make my heart freeze and I almost stumble. Ignoring the hateful way his words echo in my head, I run faster than I ever have toward the road. Heavy footsteps and frustrated grunts can be heard behind me. My panic overwhelms me with fear and tears well in my eyes, blurring the world around me. When my bare feet make purchase with the smooth, chilly concrete of the road, I almost cry out with joy. Running becomes a thousand times easier and I soar with long strides.
I focus on the road ahead of me and the prize is my ultimate escape.
I don’t count my steps. I don’t worry about his punishments.
Gabe will not catch me this time.
The grumble of an engine just around the bend is just the spark I need. My long legs carry me farther and faster than ever before. I risk a glance behind me and nearly cry out.
A monster chases me.
Bare feet and bare chested, only jeans covering his long, powerful legs.
Dark hair flapping in the wind.
Eyes black with rage.
Muscled chest flexing with the promise of recapture and retribution for my actions.
His mouth is contorted into a horrifying snarl, and I wonder if he’ll tear through my flesh upon catching me.
He will not catch me this time.
Jerking my head forward, I pound along the freezing pavement toward the vehicle that now comes into view.
Thank you, God!
The black truck is barreling down the road. Too fast. Too out of control. It’ll hit me, I think.
Then I can be with War…
I beam and look up into the early morning sky.
Take me with you, War.
The threat of tears burn in my throat as the sound of screeching tires echoes around me. The truck never makes impact, though, and instead slams to a complete stop. A door flings open and I charge toward it.
“H-Help!” I croak, my voice dry and hoarse from exertion.
A man steps out and looks past me. “Get in the truck!”
The voice is comforting and familiar. I don’t think twice about running past him and crawling into the cab of the truck. When I lift my gaze out of the windshield, I see just how close Gabe is. But instead of running right for us, he veers off to the tree line and reemerges with a large, thick branch.
“Let her go and I won’t crack your skull open,” Gabe barks out at the man whose face is hidden from me.
I could slam the door shut and drive off. Leave the man to deal with the monster on his own. The thought is fleeting and I don’t let it win. If I left the man, Gabe would slaughter him. It would be that man’s death sentence.
“She’s coming with me, Gabe.”
The voice. Familiar. Warm. Easy. And how does he know his name?
Before I can contemplate much more, a gunshot goes off, shattering the early morning tranquility. Gabe’s shoulder jerks back and he gapes at the man in shock. He doesn’t take another second before turning and hauling ass back to the cabin. Another gunshot goes off but it misses Gabe’s retreating form.
“Baylee,” the voice whispers. “Jesus, my Baylee.”
The man steps into the open doorway of the truck and dips his head down to look at me. Pained, green eyes assess me. I’m so shocked, I simply stare at him with my mouth agape as he shoves the gun into the back of his pants.
“B-B-Brandon?”
He drops into the seat and reaches for me. I flinch slightly, still overwhelmed by the events of the last few minutes. Brandon frowns at my reaction.
“Babe, it’s me.”
His expression is sad. Tentative. His green eyes are all over me mixed with pity and relief. Brandon’s once perfect hair is a wild mess that hangs in his eyes. His nose is slightly crooked from when Gabe broke it. Dark shadows mar the flesh under his eyes and his eyebrows are pinched together.
He looks older. Harder. Stronger. Almost frightening.
But then he smiles. His entire face lights up and my heart patters to life in my chest. He would never hurt one single hair on my head.
“It’s really you,” I sob.
His eyes flicker with happiness—something they always did when we were together—and he nods.
I scramble from my seat and into his arms. His warm, strong arms envelop me and I let him hold me as I wail against his neck. The embrace is familiar and comforting.
“Shhh, I have you now. This ends today, babe.” He strokes my tangled hair and drops a kiss to the top of my head. After the hell I’ve been through, it feels almost heavenly to be back in Brandon’s arms. I’m safe. This can all be over soon. But it won’t be over until we put some distance between us and Gabe.
“We have to leave. He’ll be back!” I shriek and jerk my gaze back to the road. I find no sign of Gabe. No sign of bloodshed. Not even the branch he had in his clutches. But I’m not naïve enough to be lulled into any kind of false sense of victory. Not yet. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s run off to get his own gun or his car or God only knows what. Gabe doesn’t give up. Not without a fight.
Brandon slams the truck door closed while I fall back into the seat right next to him. His body heat warms me and I remember a time when I sat snuggled up to him in
this very truck. Back when life was simpler. The tires screech as he puts it into drive and gasses it. But instead of hauling ass up the road like I expect him to, he heads in the wrong direction. In the direction of the cabin. When he pulls into the driveway, I panic.
“Stop! What are you doing?” My voice is near hysterical.
“Wait here,” he growls.
I’m clawing at his arm as he climbs out of the truck and storms off toward the cabin. My heart races in my chest and I’m at a loss as to what to do.
Gabe will kill him. Just like he killed War.
I can’t lose Brandon, too.
MY HEART IS on overdrive.
I have her.
I fucking have her.
And the need to protect what’s mine is overwhelming. I won’t let this asshole hurt her anymore. That’s why this has to end now. He has to end now. I’m going to put a bullet between his eyes. Gabe Sharpe will never have the chance to put his hands on me again. And he’ll never have the power to hurt my girl. Not ever again.
He is dead.
I let anger—a newfound aspect of my personality—wash over me in a red, vicious wave. Images of what he did to her. Thoughts of what she went through at his sadistic hand. Nightmarish visions of the horrors she faced. All ripping and clawing at the inside of me, fueling me on. Feeding the rage to pounce on the monster. To fucking destroy him.
The 9mm is still hot from when I fired it at him moments before. I’d felt invigorated the moment he jerked back when the bullet clipped his shoulder. I may not be the best marksman and I may not have landed my target, but I’d at least hit him. Weakened him. No longer was he the impenetrable force who was impossible to take down. This time, I wouldn’t miss my target. I will kill this motherfucker.
Baylee grows eerily quiet behind me in the truck as I ascend the front steps of the cabin with the gun drawn and pointing toward the door. I wish I’d ordered her to lock the doors but there’s no time. He’s inside, no doubt, planning his own attack against us.
An attack he’ll never carry out.
When I reach the front door, I waste no time and twist the knob. Once inside, I listen for movement. A scuffling in the back draws my attention. As much as I’d love to taunt him, demand answers, and make him suffer at the hand of my endless torture, there’s no time.
With slow, measured steps, I make my way through the small living room and peek my head into what appears to be a kitchen.
“Stop right there, pussy boy.”
My 9mm is trained on him but unfortunately, he has one pointed at me as well.
“This ends today, Gabe,” I snap. A quiver in my arm makes the gun shake and his calculating eyes zero in on the trembling of my weapon. Surely mistaking it for fear. I’m not afraid, though. What he’s seeing is the uncontrollable rage that quakes through me.
His laugh is deep and echoes in the small kitchen. “We both know how this ends, kid,” he snarls, the short-lived humor in his voice gone. “I kill you and then I fuck my girl.”
“She’s not your girl, you fucking idiot.”
A dark, amused eyebrow lifts and he smiles. “You don’t honestly think she’s yours, do you?” he taunts. “You’re not enough for her. You weren’t then, and you sure as fuck aren’t now. She needs a man. A man who can protect her.” He looks me up and down, and curls his lip in disgust, as if his findings leave much to be desired. “A man who can at least eat her pussy and hold her attention while he does it. I’m sure even that freak has that on you, since she seems to think she’s actually in love with him.” His mouth lifts into a sinister smirk. “She tell you about him, kid?” He emphasizes the word kid. Another taunt. Another jab at my expense about how I’ll never be good enough for Baylee. Same shit I’ve gotten from Tony for nearly two fucking years.
His words cast a shadow of doubt over my heart. There’s no way Baylee could love the sick fuck who bought her. She’s strong and smart. If anything, she may have played the role for her own survival, but she’d never fall for someone who could be a part of something so heinous.
“Fuck you, you rapist, pedophile piece of shit!” I fire off a shot but he’s already charging for me.
He lands a splintering punch across my jaw that momentarily dazes me. My gun is still in my grip so I attempt to shove it against his rib cage, but he rolls the moment I squeeze the trigger. A window shatters as the shot hits it instead.
Gabe underestimates me and I twist in his grip to where I’m on top. I free my fist and blast him in the nose. Payback’s a bitch, asshole. The satisfying crunch fuels me and I slam my fist forward again. This time, he hits me in the ribs, knocking the breath out of me.
It’s just enough.
One stalled second to catch my breath and he’s back on top of me.
Pop after pop with his fist across my jaw, he overtakes me and I start to weaken.
Shit!
“She wants him, pussy boy,” he spits out as his hand finds my throat.
He’s a goddamned liar and I won’t let him rile me. I twist and scream in rage. The grip on my throat tightens and his laugh is maniacal.
“She fucked that freak and loved—” he starts, but a crack of something impacting his skull shuts him up. His dark eyes drop closed as he collapses on top of me.
A baseball bat wielding, crazed angel stands before us.
I’m dizzied and confused but I know it’s Baylee—in all her furious glory—standing before me.
“D-Did he hurt you?” she stammers out as she drops the bat to push Gabe off of me.
I help her shove him away and blink away the daze. “I’m fine. Where’s my gun? I’m going to kill him.”
When I start for it, she launches for me. I’m shocked at her strength as she tackles me. Her pretty blue eyes are wild with fury as she pushes me back down to the floor. The gun is forgotten as I focus on how it feels to have her long legs straddled around me.
God, I fucking missed her.
“What are you doing?”
Tears well in her eyes and I slide a hand into her messy hair, drawing her to me. Those lips. Those perfect lips need kissing and tasting. She needs me to make it all better. Her mouth parts open and I can almost taste her sweet tongue on mine. But when I’m inches away, she slaps her palm over my mouth and widens her eyes.
“You can’t kill him,” she hisses. “At least not until I have answers from him.”
A growl rumbles through my chest but one shake of her head silences me.
“Help me tie him up. I know where he keeps all the fucking rope.” Her words drip with hate and venom. She doesn’t need to tell me what he’s done to her—her demeanor tells me enough.
Rape.
Torture.
Mind games.
Her crazed eyes tell me so.
“Yeah,” I agree with a huff once she releases my mouth and sits up. “But when you’re done, he’s dead. Fucking dead.”
Tears well in her eyes and she gives me a clipped nod. “The rope is in the bedroom closet.”
She slides off me, and despite the day’s chaos, I immediately miss her heat. Hopefully, soon I’ll have her in my arms where she belongs. When I stand, I nudge the gun to her. “If he moves, shoot him.”
Her blue eyes find mine and she gives me a small smile. “With pleasure.”
Gabe hasn’t woken up yet, but he’s not going anywhere. I’ve made sure of that. He’s tied to a chair in the kitchen with a dishrag, Baylee’s idea, gagging his mouth shut. Once he was secure, I watched her as she slipped into some sort of trance.
Her once lithe, toned body now appears wilted and fragile. Skin that used to glow from a year-round California tan, is lackluster and washed out. Blonde hair that used to hang in silken waves in front of her shoulders is now tangled and dull.
But the part of her that’s the most different are her eyes.
Her sparkling, innocent blues have been replaced.
They’re darker now. They hold secrets—secrets that will probably haunt her for the r
est of her life, and I wonder if she’ll ever find the strength to divulge them. Her eyes bear the pain she’s endured and I’d give anything to make it go away. To see the soft look she used to gaze at me with once again.
“I brought you some things. You should shower and dress,” I say softly, letting my eyes drag over her scantily clad body. When I’d rescued her, she’d been wearing nothing but a T-shirt despite the frigid morning air.
I cringe to think what would have happened had I not been released on bail sooner. If my mom hadn’t have thrown a hissy fit to get me out of there, despite the fact I hit my father. The moment I was released, I was back in my truck, hauling ass out to this cabin, without so much as a muttered word of thanks.
I was almost too late.
But I wasn’t.
I’d been there at exactly the right time.
It was fate.
“You think he’ll bleed to death?” Her whispered words draw me from my mind and I follow her stare to Gabe. His head is leaning forward and his eyes are closed. After I shot him, he’d thrown on a T-shirt and the blood from his wound has soaked the sleeve. But it’s not gushing. I had only clipped him—barely grazed the bastard.
“I wish,” I huff and run a hand through my unruly hair, my newest habit, “but I think it’s just a flesh wound. He’ll probably be just fine.”
She nods and leaves the room without another word. With a sigh, I trot out to the truck and retrieve my bag. Once back inside, I hear the shower running so I make my way into the bedroom and set to pulling out some things for her.
The room reeks of sex.
Of him and her.
Together. In this fucking bed.
It nauseates me.
She hasn’t told me what he’s done to her, but I know. He was inside of her, tarnishing not only her virginity, but her sanity. Baylee’s different. How could she not be? And I hate what he’s done to her.
I’m lost in my thoughts when she emerges, wearing only a towel. The circumstances are shit, but I can’t help the way my cock thickens at the sight of her. We can finally be together. I’ll finally be able to make love to her, make her feel safe again.
