This Is Love, Baby (War & Peace #2) (8 page)

He stops before opening the shower curtain and regards me with a crooked smile. Dear God, this man has the most handsome face. The silver scar along one side from his accident only serves to intensify his rugged appearance.

“Time stopped for me the moment you sat down inside my car that night. With you, I could finally take a break from the maddening chaos ticking by, second by second. With you, I could breathe. With you, I could be happy.”

I stand on my toes and press a kiss to his cheek. “Our own little world.”

“Don’t ever leave our world, Bay. Stay with me forever.”

Tears well in my eyes, but for once, they aren’t from worrying over my parents or Gabe or anything else for that matter. They’re happy tears. “I wouldn’t ever dream of leaving.”

He drags me into the shower and I let out a moan as the scalding spray washes away the evidence of our lovemaking.

“Baylee…”

The voice is wrong.

It doesn’t belong to my War.

I look around but he’s no longer in the shower with me, the steam from the water growing thicker and thicker, obstructing my view.

Our world has dissipated and darkness cloaks around me, blinding me.

“War…” I call out with a sob. “War!”

“Baylee!”

I blink open my eyes and stare into two dark green orbs. They’re not my War’s icy navy blue ones. The warmth that had only moments ago surrounded me is replaced by a chill I can feel all the way to my bones.

The voice again. Raspy and ragged. Choked and angry. And still not belonging to the man from my dreams or the person I’m wrapped around.

“Brandon?”

I close my eyes to rid myself of the confusing dream and reopen them, hoping it will be War instead. But, my gaze fixates on Brandon’s intense glare.

“Who is War?”

The blood turns to ice in my veins and I shiver. Brandon hugs me tighter to him. We’re sprawled out on the couch with my back to the cushions and him facing me as we lay on our sides. One of his big hands is resting on my ribcage, his thumb running back and forth along the underside of my swollen breast. His knee is between my thighs, resting against my pussy. The hardness of his erection presses against me alerting me to the fact he’s enjoying our contact.

It all feels like a betrayal to War.

“Brandon,” I murmur, dragging my gaze away from his, “he was…”

His knee moves and I let out a whimper. My dream was so vivid and my nerve endings are still alive. The simple touch of his nudge sends my heart racing.

“He must’ve been something to you, babe,” he says in a hushed tone, a hint of revulsion in his voice. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have been riding my leg and moaning his name.”

To reiterate his point, he drags his thumb over my nipple and I gasp, my hips involuntarily bucking against him.

“Brandon, stop,” I whimper.

He groans but his hand leaves my breast and underneath my shirt to rest on my hip. “I thought you were dreaming about me.” His voice is husky and I can sense the feeling of betrayal in it.

“I…” I trail off, not sure of how to explain this to him. “He…”

“Did you fuck him?”

I flinch at the harsh way he spits out the crude words.

“It wasn’t like that. I loved him,” I choke out with a sob.

“Like you loved me?”

A tear rolls down my temple and our eyes meet again. “I loved him differently.”

He swallows and breaks our stare. His face is a storm of emotions. Eyebrows pinching together in anger, followed by sorrow as if he might cry. Nose flaring with each upset breath. Lips pressed into a line to keep from spewing words of hate at me.

“I searched for you.” His voice is a mere whisper. “This whole time, I searched for you when nobody else would.” When his watery green eyes meet mine, I ache to soothe the boy I once loved. Our love was simple and easy. Our love was nothing like the otherworldly, all-consuming love I had with War.

Had.

Because he’s dead now.

“And
you
found me,” I tell him, the emotion in my throat making it ache.

His palm finds my cheek and he strokes it with the pad of his thumb. “Will you love me like you loved him?”

Before I can answer him, the voice—the one that stole me from my sweet dream and turned it to a nightmare—beckons me.

“B-Baylee.”

My heart thumps in my chest. Brandon scrambles off the couch and is already stalking into the kitchen before I even roll myself off.

“This is all your fault, you bastard!”

I round the corner in time to see Brandon backhand Gabe across the cheek. Gabe makes a grunting sound from the force of Brandon’s hit. When he rears back to hit him again, I push him away.

“Stop it! I need answers and if you knock him out, I won’t get those answers,” I shout and give him another shove.

He grumbles under his breath but doesn’t go at Gabe again. Gabe, who doesn’t look much like himself because of his swollen face, bloody nose, and bright red cheek, lifts his head to look at me. His dark eyes lock with mine.

I expect to see anger or fury.

What I don’t expect is to see a flicker of regret.

“Why didn’t you tell me she died?!” My voice is shrill and I hug my arms to my chest to keep from hitting him myself. “I was here, getting violated by you, all the while unknowing of the fact that my mother had died.”

Brandon growls behind me, but I ignore him and keep Gabe in the sights of my rage.

“I didn’t know she died, sweet girl. It wasn’t until after I sold you that I learned the truth,” he says, voice dropping low as his gaze flits over to Brandon briefly. “When I came back, I’d learned she’d passed. I was planning on telling you today but you ran away…”

I search his eyes for deception but find none. If anything, I sense what appears to be despondency. An emotion I didn’t think Gabe was capable of. He’s sad she’s gone. Before he’d gone psycho by abducting me, he’d been close to my parents.

“Why wasn’t my dad looking for me?” I blurt out, the thought of my father causing my heart to ache. “War and I searched for anything related to my kidnapping and there was nothing. Is my daddy hurt? Did you hurt him?” Tears well in my eyes and I shudder. I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to hear the answer.

Gabe turns his head to glare at Brandon and spits out his words. “Why don’t you ask Brandon that question?”

I jerk my head to see Brandon’s chest heaving with rage. Before I can stop him, he darts forward and slams his knuckles across Gabe’s temple, rendering him unconscious.

“What the hell did you do that for?” I screech and throw my hands up in the air.

He lets out a fierce growl that chills me. “He was getting loose,” he says, motioning to the rope holding Gabe to the chair. “He’d managed to loosen the rope around his wrist. I’ll string him up tighter. Why don’t you go lie down and rest? You’re awfully pale, babe.”

Ignoring the wooziness from not having eating today, I hold my palm out to him. “Fine. But I want to try and reach my dad. Give me your phone.”

“It died,” he murmurs while working to tighten the rope in quick, sharp movements. “I don’t have the charger with me.”

I want to challenge him on his words, but I don’t. Brandon always carries a portable phone charger in his truck. Why wouldn’t he have it with him? My mind whirls with reasons as to why he’d lie to me, coming up empty. Brandon has never lied to me. Not once. He’s always been the one person I could count on.

“What did he mean?” I question, my thoughts lingering on Gabe’s earlier words.

Brandon flits his gaze over to me and frowns. “About what?”

“About my dad. What did he mean about asking you? Is there something you know and aren’t telling me?”

He throws his hands in the air and immediately he becomes defensive. “W—What? You think I have something to do with all this? Come on, Baylee,” he says with a hiss of disbelief, his eyes darting back between me and Gabe’s unconscious form in a way that has me on edge. “I checked in on your dad while you were gone. He’d lost Lynn and I knew you would want me to make sure he was okay. Jesus Christ! And then one day he upped and vanished. Why do I feel like I’m the goddamned villain now?”

Guilt floods through me and I shake my head in argument. “I just…”

“Believed that monster over me.” He clenches his jaw and I can tell he’s trying not to cry.

My emotions take over and I reach a shaky hand over to touch his shoulder. I want to comfort him. Because of my own exhaustion and grief, I’m taking it out on Brandon. I’m believing that monster over him, just as he says. “I’m sorry, Brandon.”

With a big sigh, he reaches up and clutches my hand that covers his shoulder. “It’s okay, babe. We’ll get through this together. I promise.”

I
LIED TO
her.

Again.

How many times will I have to lie to her?

Leaning against the counter, I cross my arms over my chest and watch her leave the kitchen. As soon as she’s gone, I pull my phone from my pocket and turn it off so it won’t buzz or ring while she’s around. The last thing I need is for her to discover that I have it and that it is working just fine.

A dull throb begins to form behind my eyes and I sigh out in frustration, stuffing my phone back into my pocket. Stark had said Baylee was wanted for questioning in the attempted murder. When Baylee whimpered and moaned his name while she slept, I knew.

Gabe was right. She is, for some God-awful fucking reason, in love with him.

The thought enrages me.

It makes me want to lift the slat of the hole to the cellar and push Gabe to his death for being the cause of all of this.

But mostly, it hurts.

My mind can’t comprehend how she could feel anything for her captor. Except for intense hatred. Fuck, this guy is no different than Gabe. How could she not see that? I’d honestly assumed she was lying—possibly playing him in order to survive.

Once I saw her running down the street and then later had her in my arms, I almost laughed at myself for having entertained such a stupid notion even for a second. Of course my girl couldn’t love some monster who paid money to fuck her. Of course she still loved me with all of her heart, like I love her.

But now?

Now I know it wasn’t a fucking act.

She does love him. I see it in the way she won’t hold my gaze—the guilt pouring from her eyes giving her away. I feel it in the way she avoids my touch, instead pushing me away.

I have to fix this.

And if that means lying to her to keep her safe, so be it. It isn’t normal for her to have fallen for someone who paid money for her. Clearly, he fucked with her head. Soon, she’ll come to this realization and come back to me. I’ll get my girl back.

A few tiny lies mean nothing in the grand scheme of things. Those lies will protect her mind and her heart. As her boyfriend, the love of her life, I will make sure I do whatever it takes to protect my girl.

“I’m hungry.”

The voice from the kitchen is weak and shaky. Baylee, who sits curled up on one end of the couch, eating a sandwich meets my gaze with wide eyes.

“You don’t deserve to eat, asshole,” I call out, and then stuff a chip in my mouth.