Read This Is Love, Baby (War & Peace #2) Online
Authors: K Webster
This Is Love, Baby (War & Peace #2)
This is Love, 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.
Table of Contents
Books by
Author K Webster
T
HE
B
REAKING THE
R
ULES
S
ERIES:
T
HE
V
EGAS
A
CES
S
ERIES:
Becoming Countess Dumont (Book 2)
Becoming Mrs. Benedict (Book 3
)
W
AR
&
P
EACE
D
UET
S
TANDALONE
N
OVELS
Dirty Ugly Toy
(Dark Romance)
Zeke’s Eden
Warning:
This is Love, Baby
is a dark romance. Strong sexual themes and violence which could trigger emotional distress are found in this story. Terrible, terrible things happen to our poor heroine, so you’ve been properly warned. 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.
“Of course you know, this means war.”
~ Joe Adamson,
Bugs Bunny: Fifty Years and Only One Grey Hare
I
PACE THE
living room and let out a rush of relieved breath when I watch the green flashing light on my phone app start making its way back toward Oakland.
He has her. He fucking has her.
But not for long.
Stalking over to the mantle, I tug a framed picture down. The prick smiles back at me and my anger explodes. That motherfucker…
I stop that train of thought and remind myself I need to save my energy. Having a meltdown and destroying the house because of what he did won’t do any good. I need to preserve my anger. For Gabe. Because when I get my hands on that asshole, I’m going to fucking gut him.
Run along to your stupid cabin, old man. When you least expect it, I’m coming for you
.
My phone chimes and I close the GPS app that shows the movement of his car to check my texts.
Mom.
I swallow down my rage. Where was she months ago when I needed her most?
Mom: Could you at least come home to have dinner with us, Brandon? We miss you.
Fuck her. Growling, I type back my response.
Me: You know I won’t rest until I find her. I’ll take a raincheck.
She fires back a nasty retort. Always the same with us.
Mom: Son, you’re going to have to accept that she ran away. If she’d been stolen, like you said, it would have been all over the news. A broken nose doesn’t mean she was taken. You know my stance on this.
The rage bubbles up inside of me again—I’m angry all the time these days. I don’t think I’ve smiled aside from when I look at pictures of her. Baylee Winston. My girlfriend.
Me: Fuck you, Mom.
This time, I smile. After months of searching for her and following Gabe’s every move, I will finally have her back with me.
I press a kiss to her picture in the frame and set it back on the mantle. Then, I stalk over to my duffle bag. I throw some of her clothes, a few bottles of water and some snacks inside, and the 9mm pistol I’d stolen from Tony.
For over four months, I have worried about her.
For over four months, I have wondered if she was suffering.
For over four goddamned months, I cried myself to sleep over her.
Gabe stole that time from me—time I’ll never get back with her. He stole my girl right out from under my damn nose and with it, he broke a part of me I’m not sure can ever be fixed.
Now, it’s time to show him how much he underestimated me. That I’m not some kid who can be pushed around. He’ll live to regret he ever stepped foot in her bedroom that night. Regret he ever took my love from me.
It’s time to make him pay.
And, it’s time to get my girl back, once and for all.
M
Y CHEST ACHES.
The living, beating organ that seemed to pump only for War has begun to shrivel up and die along with him. No more pattering from simple touches, stolen glances, or murmured words. The strong cadence has dwindled to a sad, irregular beat that will never again be counted.
