This is Love, Baby(37)

His eyes hungrily lick up and down my naked form before they’re back on my teary ones. They soften at the sight and he slowly approaches. “The nightmares wouldn’t stop until he was dead, Baylee. I’m healing you. I’m fixing you, babe.”

Fury explodes within me and I attack. My fists become tiny weapons of destruction as I try to beat some sense into him. When my hands don’t seem to be doing the job, I set to shoving him. He lets me push him against the counter. I slap at his face and am about to claw his stupid eyeballs out when he snatches both wrists and yanks me to him. His face is bright red, anger twisting up his handsome features into something ugly and hateful. I want to rip the look right from his face.

I shake my head at him and jerk my wrists from his grasp. “Don’t touch me. You can sleep on the couch tonight for all I care,” I hiss at him. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

The unmasked rage begins to melt from his features. His face falls into a frown—clearly heartbroken—as I storm from the room. Once inside the bedroom, I lock the door and then crawl into the bed.

This time, when I dream, Brandon takes the place of the monster. And this new monster is equally terrifying.




The birds chirping outside the window wake me up at dawn. My entire body aches from crying and exertion. With Gabe gone, I’m ready to leave this hell hole once and for all. Maybe Brandon did me a favor. Although I will never let him know that. But by him getting rid of our villain, maybe now I can move on. Problem is, I don’t want to move on. I want to go to the police. Tell them about the cabin and all about Gabe. Expose the WCT sex ring but leave War’s name out of it. And most importantly, I want to find Land. If I can’t count on Brandon, I know I can count on Land to help me find my dad. He’ll want me in his life once he learns I’m carrying a part of his son.

And life will get better. I can control that much.

I couldn’t control what Gabe took from me.

I couldn’t control my mother’s death.

I couldn’t control War’s fate.

I couldn’t even control gaining the answers I wanted and the closure I needed from this whole mess.

But I am going to take care of myself from here on out. And I will control that.

A soft knock on the door makes me jump. I quickly throw on my clothes from yesterday before opening it.

Brandon’s face is contorted into one of guilt and regret. He rests his forearms on the door frame and leans into the room, eyes on mine.

“Baylee,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

I gather up Mom’s sweater, my nightgown, and the picture frame. Ignoring him, I stuff them all into my small purse, making it bulge. “Take me to the police station. Now.”

He leaves his position in the doorway and stalks over to me. I refuse to show weakness anymore and I square my shoulders, looking him in the eye. When his hand reaches for me, I swat it away.

“We can’t do that,” he says with a sigh of frustration. “They’ll take you to jail.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll take my chances.”

He growls and runs his fingers through his hair. “Listen, babe. Let’s talk this through first.”

“No. There’s nothing to say. You killed a man. I told you not to hurt him. I told you we needed answers out of him. But you did whatever the hell you wanted to anyway. I need some space from you.”

I start past him but he grabs my wrist. His almost glowing green orbs find mine and his brows furrow. “That is exactly why we can’t go to the police.”

With a huff, I jerk my arm from his grip. “I thought you were worried about me being taken to jail. It’s your own ass you’re looking to save? Well tough shit. Besides, it was self-defense, Brandon. Wasn’t it?”

“He was hogtied, babe, and he was covered in cuts and bruises we gave him. They’ll see it as premeditated murder or some shit. You can’t let them take me away from you now. Not after everything we’ve been through.”

Guilt tries to wash over my anger, but I don’t let it. Not this time. “Either you take me to the police, or I find my own way. Your choice.”

A streak of anger flashes in Brandon’s eyes before he masks it and releases a sigh of defeat, his hands scrubbing over his face. “Fuck, Baylee! Aren’t you listening to me?” I jolt backwards because in the next second, he’s in my face, hands gripping my arms, shaking me. “We cannot go to the fucking police. The whole time you were gone, I tried to get their help. The whole fucking time. They wouldn’t believe a word I said. They were only interested in talking to me once that freak who bought you was killed. We have no proof. We have no witnesses. My parents sure as hell aren’t going to help us, and—” He catches himself and lowers his tone. “And yours can’t help us either, babe. You want answers? You want to find your dad? Fine. Let’s go to San Francisco and start asking around. I’m with you. But we have to take matters into our own hands.”