This Is War, Baby

by K. Webster

  He runs a tender thumb along my cheek and I shiver with delight.

  “All I care about is you, woman. You’re my peace.”

  “Then make love to me again, Warren. Take me over and over again until we become one.”

  And he does.

  Three times in fact.

  Three more towels and three more showers later, I’m exhausted but happy. He holds me in his strong arms and I melt at his touch. Nothing else exists with War. Just us.

  “Still no response?” War calls out from the kitchen.

  I stretch my long legs out and wince in pain. Every muscle aches this morning. Yawning, I set my laptop on the table and turn to watch him. His back is turned as he cuts vegetables for breakfast. “Nothing. It’s so weird. Dad can be a jerk sometimes but it’s strange for Mom to not ever respond. She isn’t one to get mad or hold grudges. It makes no sense. Do you think something happened to her? Do you think Gabe did something to them?” A shudder wracks through me at the possibility.

  He walks from the kitchen into the living room and regards me with a frown. “The money keeps getting withdrawn according to my research. I don’t understand why they aren’t speaking to you.” I wonder about his methods of research but seeing how he flies through screens on the computer, I can bet they’re illegal means of obtaining information.

  “How much have you been sending them? I’m not going to leave you no matter what, so you may as well tell me.”

  He lets out a rush of air and darts his gaze to the ocean. “Only fifty thousand a day.”

  I blink at him and wait for him to laugh. To tell me he’s joking. But he doesn’t.

  “Wait,” I say carefully, “you said you were sending them a little at a time.”

  He nods and heads back for the kitchen. “That is a little.”

  Considering Dad only made forty-seven thousand in a year, I’d say his wire transfers are more than a little. Jumping up from my seat, I hurry into the kitchen after him. “War, that is not a little. That is ridiculous. You let me scream and yell at you—bribe you with my body. All along you were sending outrageous sums. Mom should have been more than able to afford a liver transplant. Why aren’t they responding to me?”

  He stalks over to me and draws me to him. I’ll never tire of his comforting presence. I inhale him and lean my forehead on his chest.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t want to tell you but I’ve been all over the Internet searching for a trail on them. What they’re doing. Everything seems normal. Debit card is being used. Bills are getting paid. And my transfers are being withdrawn. I’m not sure what’s going on but everything appears to be business as usual there. I’ll keep checking into it though.”

  I nod as he pulls away and continues making our food but my mind is still flitting through a million what-ifs. The worst what-if is…what if they’re dead?

  That thought is unbearable and I won’t give voice to it. Instead, I’ll focus on my time with War and together we’ll figure out a way to expose Gabe. Then, I’ll sort out making amends with my parents.

  This will work.

  War is my happily ever after.

  Two months later…

  THAT MOTHERFUCKER IS smart. It’s as if he knows I’m tracking his ass. Dad and I have been working to find evidence against the White Collar Trade I’d bought Baylee from and have even passed along the information to Detective Stark who asked me a billion more questions I didn’t know the answers to. I still cringe thinking about my reasoning and stupidity for acquiring Baylee in the first place. But, I will never be sorry for rescuing her. Because, in the end, she’s out of that bastard or any bastard’s clutches. She’s safe and I will never let her go.

  I sigh as I sift through more land records in search for this cabin Baylee spoke of. Gabe no longer lives next door to her house. Records indicate a new family moved in not long after he abducted her. I just need to locate where he went.

  “Do we have any crackers?”

  I click off the land records and swivel in my desk chair to look at my woman. It amazes me that she was able to drag me from the hellish depths of my mind back to reality. I still have difficult days from time to time. I still won’t touch meat even if it is the only thing left on the planet to survive on. And of course I don’t go to the beach with her, or anywhere else for that matter.

  But I can touch her.

  I even managed to give Dad the world’s most awkward hug the other day.

  Baylee spends all day long researching OCD psychotherapies and makes me try some of them since I refuse to be seen by a therapist just yet. I’m not ready but I keep assuring her I will be. Mostly the therapies she’s found involve retraining my brain and talking through the pain of what happened to Mom. I might not be close to being completely healed, but I’m happier than I’ve been in my entire life. Dad practically lives over here because not only does he adore my girl, but he loves being able to spend time with his son free of afflictions for the most part.

  “Did you look on the bottom shelf in the pantry? I think there still may be a sleeve,” I tell her. Anxiety infects my chest and my heart begins to race once I really take in her appearance. “Are you okay? You look pale, Bay.”

  She makes a face and groans, crossing her arms over the T-shirt she’s wearing. “I don’t feel so hot. I’m going to call Land to see if he’ll bring me some ginger ale.”

  I stand from my chair and walk over to her. “Do I need to call a doctor? Dad is friends with one who could come over.”

  “No,” she mutters and accepts my hug. “I’ll be fine. Just feeling a bit blah today. Maybe I’ve been running too hard lately.”

  I frown but slide my hands down to her ass. She’s not wearing panties under the oversized shirt she stole from me and if she weren’t feeling so sick, I’d already have dragged her back to our room to make love to her.

  Now that I can more easily touch her, I find it hard keeping my hands off her. There are certain things I haven’t yet been able to bridge—the idea of oral sex, for example, still seems abhorrent to me, giving or receiving—but we have sex more than most humans do, I’m sure. Recently we’ve done it doggie-style a few times too. I feel like, in time, I’ll jump all the hurdles between us and nothing will stand in our way ever again.

  “Go call Dad and put some pants on before I try to make you better with my cock,” I tell her with a growl. “I’ll finish up in here and then I’ll make you something to eat.”

  She giggles. “Such a tease, Warren McPherson.”

  I grin crookedly at her. “I love you, Baylee. I just want you to know that. Through sickness and in health,” I promise and my smile falls. “I know you don’t believe that—that I’ll run at the first sign of illness. But I won’t. I’m here, beautiful. Always.”

  She sniffles and presses a kiss against my chest. “I love you too.”

  With a smile, I kiss her hair and release her. “Good, now go grab some crackers.”

  Once she’s gone and I’m settled at the computer, I start perusing the records again. I toggle back and forth between screens looking at remote cabins outside or near the San Francisco area and cross-reference them to the land records.

  Nothing.

  With a sigh, I open a new search and go back to hunting for the sex ring site. You can’t just type in White Collar Trade and find it. Last time, it had been pure luck when I’d found it. Apparently these people create a new website each time and kill the previous after the event. I have to back track back to when I found the one Baylee was at from one of Dad’s client’s servers. There are no other sites on his computer and I want to scream.

  Until…

  I keep thinking back to the man who ran the event. Surely there is a lead there. He’d only referred to himself as “Buck” and we’d never met in the flesh, but he’d mentioned that proceeds from the event would go to his wife’s pediatric association at the hospital. I do remember the hospital name he’d spoken of when we’d talked over the phone. A few searches later a
nd I’ve found her hospital, name, and husband.

  Forrester “Buck” Whitehead.

  And the very first thing that shows up on his Facebook page is a link to his obituary.

  My stomach flops as I follow the link dated last week.

  Murdered.

  In his office.

  Items stolen from his files.

  “Fuck!”

  I’m out of my seat and stalking out of the office without a backward glance.

  “Baylee!” I call as I stride down the hallway. “Baylee, we have a serious fucking problem!”

  When I round the corner, I freeze.

  My Baylee, my sweet fucking Baylee, is crying silent tears. Her eyes, which were happy ones just moments ago, are pleading for help now, as the monster I hoped to only meet again in hell stands there, in my foyer. He holds his hand over her mouth with one hand, his other bulky arm tight around her waist, a gun in its grip. Her back is against his chest and she breathes heavily.

  “Let go of her,” I snarl, fisting my hands at my sides. I briefly contemplate what I could use for a weapon. My quick assessment of my surroundings yields nothing and my heart sinks. “How did you get in here?”

  He laughs, the sound dark and evil, and digs the gun into her ribs. “I knocked on the fucking door. My baby opened it right up for me.”

  She must’ve thought he was Dad.

  Jesus.

  Tears roll down her bright red cheeks and she apologizes with her eyes. My Baylee.

  “Let go of her.”

  He shakes his head. “Actually, Warren McPherson, I will not let go of her. She’s mine. Always was and always will be.”

  I start for him but he halts me with his words.

  “Take another step and I’ll put a bullet in her skull. Just like Mom. Isn’t that right? Your mom blew her fucking brains out all over you. That’s what made you into such a goddamned nut job?”

  Bile rises in my throat and I can almost feel the sticky residue on my flesh. “Gabe, please. If you want money, I can give you fucking money. You can have it all. Just please don’t hurt her. Leave us and we won’t tell a soul.”

  He drags the barrel of his gun along her rib cage and then between her breasts toward her throat. She whimpers but he doesn’t take his hand from her mouth. “I don’t want your fucking money. I already have millions from you, asshole. That shit doesn’t compare to the tightness of this little one’s ass. Some things, money can’t buy. Time’s up. Baylee’s coming home with me.”

  I charge for him but he shoves the barrel inside of her mouth. Jesus Fucking Christ. If that gun goes off. My Baylee will be… She’ll be…

  Images of what damage the bullet could do to her horrify me. I claw at my head in an attempt to run them away from my mind. There’d be no way she’d survive. Her blood would splatter the wall behind them—like Mom’s coated the front of me that day she delivered Constance too soon.

  So.

  Much.

  Fucking.

  Blood.

  “D-Don’t…” I clench my eyes closed. I don’t know what the fuck to do!

  “Open your eyes, asshole. You need to see this.”

  I open my eyes and glare at him. Her eyes stay on mine as she sobs. I’ve never seen her so terrified—so upset. It scares the shit out of me. I want her smiles back, goddammit!

  “Suck on the barrel, Baylee. Let’s show your boyfriend how you always obey me,” he murmurs against her hair. “How you’re my good girl.”

  She shakes her head, but he rams the gun deeper inside making her gag. The morning sun pours in through the windows and blankets them, causing her blonde hair to shimmer in the light. Every bit an angel in the devil’s grip. I want to save her. Save my angel that saved me. I want to grab him by the throat and throw him off the balcony. To take his gun from him and paint the sand the color of his blood from his head.

  The sound of Gabe’s sinister growl fills the room, interrupting my desire to murder him. “You’re going to suck on the goddamned gun or I’ll fuck your ass with it instead. I know how you like your ass played with, baby.”

  She opens her mouth, fully accepting the gun, and once again shoots me an apologetic look. What the fuck does she have to apologize for? This bastard is shaming her by using her body for his own twisted enjoyment.

  “Good girl. Keep sucking. But one false move, Baylee and I’ll pull the trigger.”

  When he shoves the barrel deeper into her mouth, causing snot to drip down her lip and over her chin, I gag. I fucking gag like a pussy. The demons are revolting in my head, threatening to take over, and I’m trying desperately to keep them under control. He starts to slide the barrel in and out of her mouth to which she squirms.

  Don’t fucking squirm, Bay. Don’t do it.

  “Shhhh,” Gabe says with a grunt and nips at her shoulder. “You’re doing so well. I missed you, baby.”

  And I watch, unable to protect her, as he fucks her mouth with that gun. Each time he withdraws the gun, it glistens with her saliva mixed with snot and I fight to keep from gagging. Memories of my mother—of Constance—assault me and the room spins around me. Her sobs echo around me only making me feel like less of a man for not being able to help her. I wish I could fucking help her.

  I could charge at him.

  But he seems the type to pull the trigger because he’s a psycho bastard.

  He chuckles, the sound dark and revolting to my ears. “Listen to her breathing picking up,” he tells me with a smirk. “I know her better than you. She’s enjoying every second of this. My girl is depraved.”

  I glare at him. “Fuck you.”

  He laughs but when she starts to wiggle, he snarls against her ear. “Don’t fucking try it, baby.” She lets out a sob—almost rage-filled as he nibbles at her ear. Her tears don’t stop but she sags in his arms. My Baylee is so weak.

  “Good girl, sweetheart,” he says and drops a kiss to her temple. “And for the next act of our show,” he says to me, ignoring her cries. “You get to watch my girl deep throat.”

  My skin grows cold and I start to grow dizzy.

  Focus, War.

  Don’t let this asshole win.

  When he’s preoccupied, make your move. Charge for him.

  “Go to hell,” I snap at him before speaking to her. “Bay, hang in there. I love you.”

  Gabe grabs a handful of her hair and forces her to her knees in front of him. “Your lover boy wants you to hang in there. Can you hang, baby?” he taunts. “Suck on this gun like it’s your last goddamned meal. Who knows, maybe it is. Or maybe you’d rather suck on my cock instead. Do you want your boyfriend to watch?”

  I snarl and attempt to stay still. She shakes her head in vehemence and heeds his instruction. The moment she starts bobbing her head on the gun, my world tilts again.

  Sucking and slurping.

  Dark chuckles and whimpers.

  My stomach churns at the thought of him accidentally pulling the trigger. Parts of her brain blowing all over my home, covering every white inch of it. I gag again.

  Stop fucking thinking about it!

  “How’s your deep throat these days anyway, baby?”

  He shoves his gun as far as it will go and this time, she’s the one that gags. Loud, sloppy, wet. A croak echoes off the entryway walls before she sprays vomit all over it and the front of his jeans. Falling to my knees, I claw at my throat. Don’t throw up, too. Don’t fucking throw up. This shit will be everywhere.

  The walls.

  The floors.

  Her clothes and mine.

  FUCKING FOCUS!

  He laughs and releases her. “Without further ado, the grand finale…”

  I tear my gaze to his. “You’re fucking sick.”

  His gun raises and he points it at me. “And you’re fucking dead.”

  Pop!

  Pain explodes in my chest.

  Nooooo!

  I clutch my chest and hiss when blood blooms out over my fingers. Just like Mom. Just like the
day she died. So much blood. It won’t stop.

  My eyes blink.

  One.

  Four.

  Or was it three.

  Black and black and black.

  “WAR!!!”

  That voice. Her voice. It’s my heavenly oasis although it sounds distant. I don’t want to close my eyes but they’re already shut and I’m spiraling into the darkness.

  “War is over.” The sick twisted voice knifes its way into my darkness.

  War is over.

  Gone, gone, gone.

  Goodbye, my Baylee. You kept me happy from the very first time I laid eyes on you.

  I blink them open and get a brief glimpse of her reaching for me as he drags her away.

  Closed.

  And you kept me happy the last time I laid eyes on you.

  Wherever I go, I’ll only think of you.

  My Baylee.

  My Peace.

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  This is Love, Baby – Coming 3.29.16

  My War was over and all was lost. My captor reminded me I was nothing more than his pawn. His agenda never changed…it was always me.

  In my War, I’d found not only peace but LOVE. I’d been through a battlefield with my War and LOVE was what brought us to the other side. Our LOVE was beautiful and pure. Undying.

  My captor thinks he has won this war. That I will LOVE him. What he doesn’t know is this time, I’m the one with the agenda. I’m several steps ahead of him, my War taught me that. I will outsmart him and find peace again.

  I’m no pawn, as he underestimates me to be, and he’ll soon learn that. A bishop, is no match for a queen. This queen lived to protect her king. There are some games my captor is no longer the best at. Some games he will not win because…

  LOVE always wins.

  My LOVE will conquer all.

  The war has only begun and the winner will be me.

  Pre-Order coming in early March!

  Where is My Mind – Pixies

  War Baby – Big Wreck

  Fix You – Coldplay

  Unsteady – X Ambassadors

  Control – Big Wreck