by K. Webster
I’ll leave this nightmare he dragged me into. I’ll go to college. I’ll raise this baby in a loving home with War in peace. I’ll go on and live when it was Gabe’s plan to take it all away.
I’ll spit on his grave and laugh all the way into the sunset of my own twisted happily ever after.
THE THOUGHT OF Gabe’s death is responsible for an all-consuming nearly orgasmic shudder that ripples through me like never before. It’s not sexual though, it’s a buzzing, electric adrenaline I’ve never experienced. My body responds with anticipation to eradicate him once and for all from my life, not the feeling of his filthy tongue on my clit as he’d like for it to be.
The rage festers inside me, fueling me. Egging me on. My grip tightens around my sanctity in my fist as I wait for the perfect moment.
“You’re something else, baby. So sweet and innocent at times, and fucking naughty as hell at others.” He sits up on one elbow and drags his gun along my bare belly. I try not to recoil in disgust and flash him a seductive smile instead.
“Thank you.”
His dark eyes widen in surprise. “For what?”
“For getting rid of him,” I say with a shiver. “He was different. Scary different.”
He drags the still warm barrel of the gun to my sex and teases my clit with it before letting it trail back up. “I’m kind of pissed off you find him scarier than me. That boy was always a pussy. Maybe,” he murmurs as he pokes the gun almost painfully into my lower belly just above my pelvic bone, “I should scare you a little more.”
My widened eyes meet his and he grins. If this were six months ago in my living room and he were poking me with his finger, that grin would have been charming. But not now, now it chills me to the bone.
“I’m not scared of you,” I tell him, my voice level. “Because I love you.” Those words fall out easily too, but they’re a big fucking lie.
“I love you too, sweet girl,” he tells me, his dark eyes warm like melted chocolate. His thumb slides over my belly just below my navel and he winks.
I make my move and lean forward to kiss him.
I’m coming for you, black knight.
As soon as our lips touch, he groans. Before he can deepen the kiss, I jerk away from him and swing my arm around. I’m clumsy with the weapon that feels too big in my slender hand, but it’s my only shot. I let my anger strengthen me as I stab downwards into his chest.
“What the fuck?” he roars. “What did you do to me?”
Despite his weakened state, he slings me away from him and I bang my head on the headboard. The devil rises from the bed, his malevolent presence scorching me with his eyes. He drops his gaze to Brandon’s knife which now sits firmly wedged to the hilt in his chest.
Blood.
So much.
Seeping and seeping at a rapid rate from his wound. A wound I gave him.
His shaky hand attempts to pull it out, but it won’t move. He darts his eyes all around as if to pull answers from the air on what to do next. But it’s too late. Too late for the devil. This avenging angel already took his choice away from him.
“Baylee,” he rasps and uses what little bit of energy he has to lunge at me.
Screaming, I try to push him away from me but he grabs onto my hips and presses his warm mouth to my belly kissing me reverently, almost sweetly. Possessively even. My stomach roils in disgust and I choke down the bile threatening to spew out at any moment. His warm blood pours from him and runs down between my legs, soaking the bed below my bare ass.
But just when I think I can’t take anymore, it’s over.
Quick.
Painless.
Finished.
His body stills and remains unmoving as I slide out from beneath him.
“Checkmate,” I whisper and shove his lifeless body away.
My teeth are chattering from the adrenaline rush and all I can think about is getting out of this house.
But I stop for a moment to admire my handiwork.
Gabe. The damn devil. Dead.
With shaking hands, I drag my yoga pants on without panties. I grab Brandon’s bloody hoodie from the bed and tug it over my head.
I’m done with this life.
It’s finally over.
Those bastards aren’t coming for me anymore. I can take my time. But I’m ready to put my past behind me and start over with War.
I need order.
I need simplicity.
I need to feel safe again.
My heart races in my chest and I can’t seem to get it to slow. If War were here with me right now, he’d press a thumb to the pulse at my throat and count each rapid beat.
God, I need him.
With a deep breath, I open the front door and inhale the fresh scent of freedom.
“Bay.”
I jerk my gaze to the heavenly voice that somehow thunders through the madness in my head and blink in confusion to see the man approaching me slowly.
Beautiful but flawed.
Weak yet so strong.
Mine.
“War.”
I’m afraid to move. Afraid to chase off the vision of him. He seems so real. So close. So present. I want to thump myself in the head to remind myself that War is in the hospital.
“Are…are you okay?” His voice cracks and his hands tremble at his sides.
Land materializes from the behind him with wide eyes and I put a palm to my chest as if to still my pounding heart. “You’re really here.”
War winces but takes several more steps toward me, not deterred by my shuddering body.
“Bay, beautiful, please tell me you’re okay.”
Tears stream down my face and my knees buckle. Blackness eats away at my vision, causing me to sway. “I am not okay.”
And darkness envelopes me.
But with it comes a warm, all-consuming strength. It embraces me and keeps me safe. I unravel inside of my own head and let the warmth overtake me.
“For the love of God, Bay,” he chokes out, “Tell me you’re okay.”
The deep, husky voice parts through the gloom in my mind and I reach for it. I blink my eyes open and inhale a scent that belongs to my lover. My friend. My equal. My War.
“You’re really here right now with me,” I sob, “and we’re going to be okay.”
His hand strokes my blood-soaked hair as I cling to him. He flinches when I touch the left part of his chest where he was shot, so I settle for the right.
“I was so scared.” My tears drench his shirt and he continues to hold me.
“I was fucking terrified when I realized you were gone,” he says, his words muffled somewhere in my hair. “As soon as I realized what happened, I left the hospital to come for you. Your watch was fitted with a tracking device—in case Gabe ever came back for you. But when he did come for you, you weren’t wearing it. This time, though, I was going to find you and save you.”
“You did save me,” I whisper as I pull slightly away, searching his stormy eyes.
He smiles and his gaze skitters down my throat. “Bay, you saved yourself.”
His eyes become fixated on my flesh and realization washes over me like slick oil. Suddenly, a thought overwhelms me to the point I nearly vomit.
Blood.
So much blood.
I’m dripping in War’s worst nightmare.
Shit!
I try to peel myself from him but he grips me tighter. “Warren, I’m covered in…I’m covered in…”
He grips my hair and tugs my head back. “I see, beautiful. Believe me, I see.” Our eyes meet and his perfect mouth quirks into a half-smile. “But love’ll make you do crazy things. Like do absolutely anything—slay any dragon, even the imaginary ones in your head—for a chance to have the one you love in your arms once more. You own me, Bay, and you always win when it comes to battling my heart against my delusional mind. I love you.” He gives me a small smile. “I’m going to kiss that dirty mouth of yours now.”
I half sob and half l
augh as his mouth descends upon mine. Our lips connect and he devours me as if he needs my love for nourishment. So I feed it to him. Every part of me, I give to him in our kiss. The promise of my love. Children. Loyalty and friendship. My heart.
“Kiss me again,” I order.
He smiles and dives back in. “Anything for the queen.”
The sound of the sirens grows louder as the police get closer. War, Land, and I have been sitting on the front porch waiting for them to arrive and deal with the situation. Land has been on the phone, answering questions from Detective Stark. She asked him to keep us out of the house until they arrived. Something about contaminating the crime scene and disrupting evidence. I didn’t care, though. I was perfectly content sitting next to War on the porch swing with his heavy arm draped around me.
I haven’t said much, and have let War’s whispers soothe me. He’s been counting and muttering since we sat down. I know he’s still with me because every so often he presses a kiss to the top of my head. But he doesn’t stop. It’s as if he’s found a way to cope with the blood and the insanity. I don’t dare disrupt that. I don’t need to ask him if he’s okay, I know he’s weak and exhausted. Aside from his muttering, he’s not moved much.
When a black Crown Vic comes bouncing down the drive, red and blue lights flashing, I let out a sigh. It’s almost over.
A pretty brunette climbs out of the car and stalks over to us. Her scowl hardens her features but when she sees me, her face softens. The clomp of her boots on the wood porch indicate her arrival and she squats down in front of me.
“Miss Winston?”
I lift my head and regard her. Dark brows furrow together as her eyes quickly asses the blood all over me.
“Are you hurt?”
Shaking my head, I glance over as two uniformed cops and another detective in a suit walk inside the house. “I’m okay. It’s not my blood. War needs to get back to the hospital, though.” He stiffens beside me at the mention of his name but then quickly relaxes.
“Of course, hon. We’re going to secure the crime scene and then I need to ask you a few questions before you leave to get medical attention. Wait here and I’ll be back in five,” she instructs as she stands.
When she doesn’t move, I lift my gaze to hers and she frowns.
“Miss Winston,” she says softly, almost motherly in nature, “I’m sorry this happened to you. We’re going to continue to bring down every other perp who had any dealing with the White Collar Trade group. Together, with you and Mr. McPherson’s help, we’re going to catch these guys. Every last one of them.”
My mind flits back to that day I met War. Before I climbed into his car. When the monsters lurked around in their five thousand dollar suits, expensive haircuts, and dashing grins. A time when they bought and sold women as if they were nothing more than a simple business transaction. Trading in a used vehicle for a sexy, sleeker model. Their wolfish smiles were terrorizing to all the lost sheep in the flock. If I could help save even the sixteen other girls I saw walk across that stage, it would be more than I could have ever expected. Men like Edgar Finn will go to prison and rot for their crimes against those women. Women like me. Detective Stark can prevent that man from carving up women for sport.
I’ll do whatever the hell she needs as long as she makes that happen.
“Thank you,” I tell her, meeting her gaze with a firm stare of my own.
“Stark, we have a problem,” the other detective says through the doorway. “I think you need to come see this.”
She stalks off and my veins freeze. What sort of problem do they have? Will I somehow be in trouble for defending myself?
Not even thirty seconds later, Stark bursts through the door with her radio in hand. “I want a chopper in the air casing a five-mile radius of the crime scene. We need the coast guard on alert. We’re looking for a Caucasian male, forty-one years of age, and severely injured. Suspect is on foot and his blood loss trail indicates he went into the ocean. The prick is most likely dead, but I won’t sleep until I zip him up in the body bag myself.”
I stiffen.
This was supposed to be over.
“Bay,” War murmurs into my ear, “it’s going to be okay. Calm down.”
But I can’t calm down. Jerking from his grasp, I run the length of the porch and make it to the railing just in time to puke over the side. I try to ignore Stark’s voice, which only seems to make things worse, but her words still find their way inside my head.
“Contact the local news and have them make an emergency police bulletin. We’re looking for a man named Gabriel Sharpe. Suspect is considered to be armed and extremely dangerous despite his life-threatening injuries.”
Hearing his name—confirmation that it isn’t over—sends me over the edge. Black crushes in around me and I go down, submerging into the darkness.
FOCUS. FOCUS. FOCUS.
Baylee. Baylee. Baylee.
Shit!
I’m naturally predetermined to freak the fuck out about the things I can’t control—blood, microbes, disease, toxins, her pain. My mind threatens to crack down the middle and split in half so the terrors can wreak their havoc on me. It seems imminent.
But I can control it.
I have to.
I will.
My fingers thread through her blood-caked hair as Dad drives us to the hospital and I find my calm. Baylee needs me and I won’t let her down now. I’ve been getting better, because of her, and I will be the one to help her through this. My precious Bay has been to hell and back. She’s had to be strong for so fucking long and now it’s time to reverse the roles. I will be the one to carry her to the end. The road won’t be an easy one and she’ll need a lot of counseling, but I’ll be there for her every step of the way. The demons in my own head are dead to me. They can go fuck with someone else because I’m over it. Fucking over it. I’m done fighting those bastards because I am fighting for her.
She is the most important part of me.
She’s the only part of me that truly matters.
“You okay back there, son?” Dad’s voice questions, the shakiness in it telling me he’s not as strong as he lets on.
“Yep,” I clip out and meet his eyes in the mirror with a firm gaze of my own. “I just want to get Baylee taken care of. That’s all that matters to me, Dad.”
He presses the accelerator and we glide around a slower car as he makes his way back to the hospital. We’d left Stark and the fucking chaos of emergency vehicles to get medical attention for both myself and Baylee with the promise they’d be by later to question us.
“Ten minutes, War. Hang in there kiddo.”
Her hot breaths as she sleeps burn through my jeans on the top of my thigh, almost scalding me. I stroke away her hair and admire her pretty, blood-stained face.
So beautiful.
So perfect.
So worth the fight.
I can look at her blood smeared face without losing my fucking mind because it’s her. It’s not blood and disease and disgust. It’s her. Bay. Deserving of love and so much more. She’s mine to love and care for. And I won’t fucking let her down.
Jerking my head back up when we hit a speed bump, I let out a relieved breath to see we’re turning down the side road that’ll lead us right to the hospital. When we pull up to the front, Dad jumps out of the car and hurries to open my car door. Baylee sits up, groggy from her short nap, and her frantic eyes dart around.
She’s looking for him.
Expecting him to step out from a shadow.
To take her again to do only God knows what.
But he’s not here.
As she realizes this, she climbs out with Dad’s assistance and I all but jump out after her, eager to keep her close to me. My eyes fixate on the crusty smears on her cheek and I reach for her, the urge to touch her as necessary as my next breath. The blood doesn’t scare me anymore. The pale skin and disoriented look on her face does though. When her knees buckle, I’m there to gathe
r her light frame into my arms. People are shouting around us but I hold my girl to me.
I won’t let you fall, Bay.
Not now, not ever.
“Son, you need to readmit yourself. You don’t look well.” Dad’s concerns roll off me and I blow them off.
Nothing matters except her.
When she fainted earlier, they rushed to admit her. I stayed by her side, clutching her small hand, while they assessed her. She was severely dehydrated and in dire need of fluids. Now that she’s being taken care of properly, the color is beginning to return to her face. Her soft, rhythmic breaths as she sleeps are music to my ears.
And yes, I count every fucking one of them.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him as I run my thumb across the top of her hand, ignoring the searing ache in my chest. I could really use some pain meds but it’ll have to wait. The last time I closed my eyes, Brandon took her right out from under my nose. I’m not eager to leave her vulnerable again.
“Warren, she’s going to be okay. But if you don’t get back into a bed soon, you won’t be okay. She needs you to be strong for her. Besides, there’s a uniformed cop just outside her door. Nothing will happen to her.”
I process his words. If she were awake and coherent, she’d be pressuring me to get medical attention. He’s right. I do need to get better for her. She would want it that way.
“Fine, but you stay with her. Just to be safe. She only has us, Dad. Take care of her for me,” I tell him gruffly as I stand on shaky legs. “Promise me.”
“Of course,” he vows, his voice serious and it comforts me.
Leaning forward, I run my thumb along her now clean cheek and then press my lips to hers. “I love you, beautiful. Take care of yourself and our baby. We’ll go home soon and put this behind us. I swear to you I’ll make it all better.”
Her eyes flutter open and she smiles, albeit a small, quick one, before she slips back into a much needed sleep. I kiss her one more time and then stand. The room spins, my dizziness overwhelming me, and I stumble. Dad, thankfully, is there to prevent me from careening to the floor that I know for a fact is crawling with disgusting microorganisms. He ushers me over to the door and calls over a nurse.
