This is Love, Baby(42)

“My son won’t go to jail for this,” he clips out in a cold tone and gestures to me. “You need to give us your word he won’t be implicated in any way for his involvement.”

Stark glances at Shilling and nods. Her smile is gone but she seems fine with his request and approaches my bedside. Her proximity unnerves me but I grit my teeth and hold still. “Mr. McPherson, with your help on this case, we would be willing to provide you with immunity in exchange for your assistance. After all, we’re after the bigger fish here. Gabriel Sharpe and the WCT are the biggest whales in the Pacific. We get Sharpe, we get your girl. We bring down WCT, and we get a whole bunch of girls.”

“The doctor says he’ll be here in the hospital for another week, maybe two,” Dad interrupts. “He’s in no shape to be helping right now and—”

I meet her gaze with a serious one of my own. “I’ll do it. Dad, I can access everything I need from my laptop and can get to work here in the hospital. Get me that, my phone, and my wireless access point. I’m going to get them whatever they need to help find Baylee.”

He groans but nods in resignation. “Of course, War.”

Stark pats my knee and smiles. I’m shocked that I don’t recoil from her touch. But my mind isn’t focused on her anymore. It’s flying through codes and possibilities. My mind is counting numbers, recalling articles about sexual crimes in California, and contemplating thousands of different avenues I can travel via the Internet to exploit the parties involved. It was Baylee’s wish to bring down this sex ring. She mentioned it to me on numerous occasions. If I can help give her that and bring her home at the same time, I will. All for her.

“Thank you,” she says and pulls her card from her breast pocket. She tosses it onto the table and extends her hand for me to shake it. “We’ll be in touch. Get me anything and everything you can find.”

My eyes fall to her slender hand. The nails are clean and polished. She doesn’t seem to be crawling with diseases, unlike her partner. With a swallow, I shove my fear down and clasp her warm hand. The handshake is brief, thank God, and then she releases me. They leave without another word and my eyes travel to find the worried ones of my father. My hand quakes from residual fear from touching her but I force myself not to obsess over it. Instead, I take another spoonful of my applesauce as I think about her—my Baylee.

Pretty blue eyes.

Sweet smile.

Compassion that radiates from her like a million rays, more brilliant than the fucking sun.

Swallowing the food, I look over at my dad and clench my jaw. “We’re going to get her back.”

His lips press into a firm line and he nods. “Of course we are, son.”

The police may want the bigger fish to fry, but not me.

I want my Baylee.

My heart.

My peace.





“DON’T TOUCH MY girlfriend,” I snarl, spittle spraying his face.

The salesman at the department store has the sense to look ashamed and jerks his hand from her arm and holds both palms up in defense. I’d been watching both of them laugh for the past five minutes as he held up different styles of jeans for her to look at and it was pissing me the fuck off.

“D-Dude,” he stutters, “I was being friendly.”

“She’s not yours to be friendly with,” I snap.

Thin arms wrap around my middle and try to pull me away. “Stop it, Brandon.”

I relax in her embrace. “Think twice before hitting on a girl who’s taken.”

“I wasn’t hitting on your girl, man,” he says and shoots Baylee an apologetic glance. “I’m gay.”

He gives her an awkward wave and turns to leave us.

“Thanks for all your help,” she clips out as she releases me and the storms away.

Fucking great. I trot after her and watch as she angrily snatches up all her bags full of clothes and necessities from the bench I’d abandoned.

“Can we go to the hotel now?” she grits out and shoots me a glare. “I’m tired.”

Frowning, I nod and follow after her toward the parking lot. Once we’ve loaded the bags into the truck and get in, she’s composed herself.

“I want my own room.”

I’m already shaking my head. Fuck that. “No.”

She snaps her head over to glare at me. “Why the hell not, Brandon? I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’re violent and unhinged. I need space.”

Violent?

Unhinged?

Of fucking course I am!

She was stolen right out from under my goddamned nose. They raped and fucking tortured my girl. Fuck them and fuck her attitude right now. I saved her yet she has no gratitude whatsoever.