by K. Webster
This is War, Baby
Copyright © 2016 K. Webster
Cover Design: All By Design
Photo: Dollar Photo Club
Editor: Premier Romance Editing
Formatting: Champagne Formats
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Title Page
Copyright
Books by Author K Webster
Dedication
Warning
Quote
Part One
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Part Two
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
This is Love, Baby
Playlist
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Books by Author K Webster
THE BREAKING THE RULES SERIES:
Broken (Book 1)
Wrong (Book 2)
Scarred (Book 3)
Mistake (Book 4)
Crushed (Book 5 – a novella)
THE VEGAS ACES SERIES:
Rock Country (Book 1)
Rock Heart (Book 2)
Rock Bottom (Book 3)
THE BECOMING HER SERIES:
Becoming Lady Thomas (Book 1)
Becoming Countess Dumont (Book 2)
Becoming Mrs. Benedict (Book 3)
Alpha & Omega
Omega & Love
This is War, Baby
This is Love, Baby
STANDALONE NOVELS
Apartment 2B
Love and Law
Moth to a Flame
Erased
The Road Back to Us
Give Me Yesterday
Running Free
Dirty Ugly Toy (Dark Romance)
Zeke’s Eden
Warning:
This is War, Baby is a dark romance. A really dark one. So dark you’re going to wish you had a flashlight to see yourself to the end and someone to hold your hand. Human trafficking, dubious consent, and strong sexual themes that could trigger emotional distress are found in this story. This story is NOT for everyone.
It WILL cross lines.
It WILL break the rules.
It WILL make you sick.
And it WILL stress you out.
But…
There is also light.
Once you get past the darkness, you’ll find something pure and whole.
Something lovely.
Something happy.
You’ll find love.
And it WILL be worth the journey.
“They're in love. Fuck the war.”
~Thomas Pynchon, Gravity's Rainbow
Three days before…
“LOWER.”
His slurp echoes in my bedroom and I tense up. Our eyes meet for a brief second before his tongue starts to lap at me again. My friend Audrey says when a guy eats you out, it’s the most amazing thing on the planet. Yet as Brandon flicks his tongue everywhere except the part of me that seems on fire with need, I can’t help but wonder if she was lying. She’s always been one to embellish the truth. And right now, as my body tenses with the urge to explode, I never quite reach the climax I’m after. Audrey most certainly fibbed about this little detail.
Brandon grunts and his gentle thumbs stroke the insides of my thighs as he tastes me. The maneuver itself is sweet and one I have come to expect from my boyfriend of a year and a half. However, just once, I’d like for him to dig his fingers into my legs. To suck my clit that he seems to be dancing around. To force his way into me and break the barrier I’d gladly give to him if he’d take rather than ask.
I chew on my lip and ponder my bizarre thoughts rather than focus on the pleasure that seems to be slipping farther and farther away.
What would Dad do if he were to come in here and find Brandon between my legs? I stifle a giggle. He’d yank him away from me by his hair and drag him out of the house most likely—probably landing a punch or two on his handsome face before he sent him on his way. My amusement dies though when I think about him explaining what happened to her.
My mother.
Her pale lips would fall into the slightest of frowns and her blonde brows would pinch together. She’d become shaky and weaker than she already is with worry. That very thought sobers me up completely.
“Mmm,” Brandon grunts from below, dragging me back to the task at hand.
I skim my gaze over his spiked brown hair and his bare shoulders. He didn’t quite develop into the hot boy he is now until the summer before our senior year. Six months into the school year and I still catch myself grinning. I didn’t expect to be in a serious relationship with the best-looking guy in school. But I’m certainly not complaining.
Well…
Maybe I am a little.
He’s a great kisser and an attentive boyfriend.
But I crave for him to possess my body in a carnal way that matches the blazing of my heart—to bruise my flesh as his fingers dig into me while he takes me in such a way that suggests his body needs mine for life.
“I love you.” His murmured breath against my clit jolts me and I wish he’d do it again. We’re both learning here but I hope he learns a little bit faster.
“I love you too. Don’t stop.”
With newfound fury, he increases the speed at which he circles my sensitive flesh. So close and yet still so far away. I’d like to grab onto that spiky hair and hold him right where I want him. The thought sends a thrill quivering down my spine.
I hear a car door slam and my thoughts immediately go to my dad’s best friend, Gabe. He’s lived next door to us for nearly ten years now and they’ve been inseparable ever since. Images of his dark mop of hair that sometimes hides his brown eyes—eyes that seem to always twinkle with delight when he sees me—flood my mind. Lately, I think about him a lot.
Way too much.
When Dad’s stressed about Mom’s illness, he and Gabe spend hours drinking beer and whispering stuff I’m not privy to hearing. In a way, I’m glad Dad has someone to confide in. I just wish I could curl up between them like I used to before I grew boobs and started wearing makeup. Once I hit puberty, the way I used to climb all over him like he was my favorite tree ended as quickly as it’d started. Gabe now seems agitated every time I’m near him.
His dark eyes will flick over my body briefly, and with a flash of something that makes my belly ache, but he always moves them someplace else and affixes me with his annoyed glare instead. The disdain in his eyes only
intensifies if Brandon is around. If looks could kill, I’d fear for Brandon’s life.
It was as if he flipped a switch one day and didn’t like me anymore.
I may be young but I’m not stupid.
I know, deep down, there’s more than what is on the surface with Gabe.
That he wants me.
Brandon hits a spot that has me jolting upright. So close. So damn close. If he’d go back and spend a little more time there, I might find this elusive orgasm. I lean back and rest on my elbows so I can watch him. I’m beginning to lose faith in his abilities once again when something by the open window catches my eye.
A dark shadow.
Brandon swipes his hot tongue back over my clit and I buck as if I’m a live wire jolting with electricity. More, Brandon. More…
I close my eyes, hoping to leap over that blissful edge. My brain betrays the one before me though as thoughts of another man flood my mind—a man with messy hair and coffee-colored eyes.
A man.
Not a boy like Brandon.
“Oh God,” I whimper and bite my lip, attempting to force images of my sexy boyfriend back to the forefront of my mind. “I feel close.”
Brandon’s tongue goes wild and I squirm against him. I want his tongue to own me. I want him to stick his fingers inside of me and probe where nobody but me has ever been before. I’m ready for so much more than what we’ve had—for the innocence of our relationship to die a quick death.
A creak of the floorboard in my bedroom has me jerking my eyes open. I expect to see Dad—to meet the furious glare of my father. But I don’t.
Instead, it’s something a thousand times more terrifying.
And I nearly come despite the alarm that renders me immobile.
I’m a sick girl.
A tall man, dressed completely in black, donning a ski mask holds a finger to his lips as he sneaks up behind Brandon. Terror seizes me and I’m unable to move a muscle. I want to scream. I want to scramble away. I want to know what the hell is going on. But I can’t do anything but stare.
His dark eyes through the mask stay on mine as he prowls closer. Of course Brandon chooses that exact moment to hit the right spot. Spots darken my vision and I’m on the cusp of something euphoric.
But my dream is threading with a nightmare.
This darkness fits but it is also wrong and dirty. This can’t be real—this can’t be happening.
I’m confused, but the moment he grabs on to my boyfriend’s hair and yanks him away from me, reality splashes me out of my lusty daze. I find my voice and I scream.
Everything seems to slow down and I’m rooted with my butt on the quilt Nana made for me when I was twelve. Brandon attempts to swing at the man but he’s too slow—too young—too innocent.
Crack!
The man’s fist connects with Brandon’s nose and the sickening crunch has me dry heaving.
“Dad!”
Brandon crumples to the floor as blood gushes from his face. I need to help him. No, I need to get away. Fear releases its clutch on me and I scramble on the bed toward the door. I’m close when a powerful arm hooks around my middle and yanks me back.
His hand slaps over my mouth and my naked body heaves in his clutches. I attempt to wriggle from his unyielding grasp but he’s too strong.
“Did you come?” he hisses against my head and frees my mouth.
The room blurs with my tears and I freeze. I know this voice.
“Gabe?”
“It was a yes or no answer, little girl. You have three seconds to answer the fucking question before I slit that pussy’s throat.”
His threat nauseates me and a sob catches in my throat. Where’s Dad?!
“Three.”
My voice. Why won’t it work? Please, God. Help me!
“Two.”
No! No! No!
“One. Times up.” He reaches behind him and then brings around a huge knife out in front of me. A knife like that would kill Brandon.
“N-N-No!”
A throaty grunt vibrates through my back. If I had to guess, I’d say he is pleased by my answer. And by the way his erection presses into my back, I’d say excited too.
“Good answer,” he mutters. “Now, say goodbye to your bedroom and your pussy-ass boyfriend. You’ll never see them again.”
His hand covers my mouth before I have a chance to belt out the scream that is now lodged in my throat. Surely this is some sort of joke. A plan for Dad to make sure I don’t ever try to sneak around with Brandon under his roof.
Yes, that must be it.
All a game.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but this is going to hurt.”
That’s the only warning I receive before he cracks me over the head with a blunt object—probably the butt of his knife. Darkness steals over me, and the last thing I catch a glimpse of is Brandon’s bloody, unmoving body. You’ll never see them again. I can’t handle the reality of that concept and the thought shoves me into oblivion.
MY HEAD THROBS.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Where am I?
What day is it?
I’m aching and disoriented and cold. But that isn’t what has me terrified. It isn’t that I haven’t eaten. Nor is it that I also haven’t slept. No. What’s terrifying is that I haven’t seen anything but complete black in what must be days.
Anger bubbles in my chest at having been stolen by my neighbor. I can’t prove it but I know his voice. He took me right from my bedroom. Dad never came. Brandon was badly hurt. And I haven’t a clue as to where I am.
I think I hear a thud above me and I try to still my racing heart. Why would Gabe take me to lock me away in some dungeon and let me die? It makes absolutely no sense.
Another thud. Several of them. My heart flares to life and I hope maybe the cops have come for me. That my dad is leading a pack of angry policemen dead set on rescuing me. Seventeen is too young to die. I had plans—plans that involved going to med school. Plans that I’d hoped involved marrying Brandon and having a bunch of babies. We’re in love. God, I hope he’s okay.
A sharp pain seizes my stomach and I whimper. I want to scream at him to feed me something—anything—but I’ve already tried that. The screams have fallen on deaf ears. Screaming doesn’t get me food—screaming gets me a hoarse, dry throat. My cracked lips are the most apparent signs of my dehydration. The throat though, is awful. No matter how many times I attempt to conjure up spit to wet my throat, the most I can come up with is a small, thick ball of phlegm which only serves to nauseate me when I swallow it.
“Help.” The croak belongs to me but it’s nothing more than a whisper.
I’ve been all over this space, feeling my way through the dark, but have found nothing to be down here. Not one single damn thing. I’ve deemed one corner my bathroom. My bodily excretions are what decorate that corner now, not that there’s much, since I’m slowly dying from a lack of nutrients.
“Please.” This time, my voice is louder but it will never penetrate these concrete walls. Reaching out, I once again finger the walls searching for a way out. How does a room not have windows or doors? How did he get me inside of this tomb?
Something skitters over my hand and I shriek. Must have been a spider. The normal girly-girl I was not long ago would have hidden in the pee corner to escape. This scared prisoner I’ve become though is hungry. I wonder if I could eat the spider. It would be disgusting but could provide protein.
Or poison.
Once again, I feel defeated. My luck, I’d gobble up that nasty spider only to die from the venom it carries. And then my dad would find my decomposed body hours too late or something.
He’d lose Mom and me both.
A scratchy sob pierces the air and I attempt to drum up tears. Nothing. I cry tearlessly for a minute and then swallow down the emotion. Mom was sick but she seemed hopeful. A liver could come at any time, she’d said. Dad, however, wasn’t convinced. He researched. He reached out. He facebooked the wor
ld. All in an effort to save the love of his life.
But time is running out.
For the both of us.
I should have told her how much I’d loved her before bed. Instead, I was too worried about hopefully taking that final leap with Brandon that would have sealed our relationship. Sex. I’d made him wait but I was ready. And now…
God, I am so stupid.
I’m not sure exactly how long I’ve been down here, but it’s taking a toll on my sanity. Screamed until I was hoarse and voiceless. Cried until my stomach muscles were sore and aching. Spent unthinkable amounts of time fingering every crack and crevice in the darkness in an effort to find an escape route. Imagined every scenario about Brandon’s fate, none of them good. At one point, I even tried to count as high as I possibly could—I was well over six thousand when I got bored and gave up.
I’ve been here forever.
Hours or days or months—my mind is on a black, endless terrifying reel.
I’m in an eternal, dark hell.
With nobody to talk to.
With no food or water or bathroom.
With nothing but the blackness and insanity slowly seeping through the cracks of my soul to keep me company.
A sliver of blinding light slices across the dusty floor in front of me and I stare at it with squinty eyes in shock.
“Gabe. Please.” A tiny whispered plea.
I want to scream and cry and beg.
But I’m cold and tired. I’m disoriented and stressed. I just want to go home.
The slice of light becomes a distinct yellow square suspended about twelve feet above the ground. I blink several times in attempt to shield my sensitive eyes to the bright light. A silhouette—broad shoulders and wild hair—takes up most of the square, protecting me from the offensive light.
“How you doing down there, kiddo? Still alive and kickin’?” His deep voice is a gravelly rumble which used to excite me. Now, it scares the living crap out of me.
“I want to go home,” I tell him in a firm tone, despite the wobble in my voice.
He chuckles though it is a humorless sound. Dark, evil, hellish…yes. Out of humor, absolutely not. Who is this man who I’ve known for the past decade? I’ve watched him with other women, flirtatious and desirable. I’ve heard him whisper dirty, sexual promises to girlfriends over the years and would even grow jealous of the attention he showered them with. I mean, I’ve fantasized about his strong, capable hands roaming all over me as he kissed me for crying out loud. And all this time, beneath the jokes and friendly façade was a demon from hell waiting in the shadows for the perfect opportunity to take what wasn’t his.
