Her left foot is tapping rapidly. I am about to repeat my question when she says, “We need to call the police and tell them about Gabe’s body at the cabin. I’m ready to tell them what I know about the sex ring as well. There were some bad people, Brandon,” she says, her sparkling blue eyes finding mine. “If anything, maybe they can go after the other assholes who are still selling women into human trafficking and sex slavery out there. These are innocent women, Brandon. Women like me, who were taken and sold as if they were commodities rather than people. Not all of the buyers are good, honest people like War.”
I run my fingers through my hair and groan. She’s defending that freak again. Her speaking to the police doesn’t sit well with me but I feel like she’s slipping through my fingers. The last thing I want her to feel like is that I’m imprisoning her or controlling her. Gabe did enough of that to her to last a lifetime. Baylee is a free spirit. Independent and strong. I need to give that to her so she’ll trust me. We’re slightly broken and I need to do whatever I can to fix it.
“Fine, we’ll call them together. You can talk and I’ll sit here. We’ll have dinner afterwards.”
She shakes her head and grabs hold of my hand. Her touch ignites a fire within me and my heart thumps to life.
“I’d like to do it on my own,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes, making them look like tiny Caribbean oceans. “I’m embarrassed about the things that happened to me. Please. Let me do this on my own. You can order us some take-out and bring it back. It shouldn’t take long.”
I clench my teeth hard enough to make my jaw ache as I search her eyes for deception. But I find none. They only reflect the Baylee I know. Sweet, innocent, untarnished by the cruel fucking world. God, I love her.
Sliding a hand into her hair, I then rub the pad of my finger over her temple. She’s so beautiful. Gabe tried to stomp on my gorgeous girl’s nature and body, but she survived. Baylee not only made it through, but it somehow made her even more alluring. She’s no longer that delicate flower the world was threatening to crush. No, now she’s sporting some sexy-as-hell thorns.
“Please,” she utters and then leans forward, parting her lips.
I’m so stunned that she’s initiating a kiss, I don’t realize that’s exactly what it is until her soft lips are pressed to mine and a small whimper pours from her. It slides down my throat and strokes the pelt of my inner beast. The dark parts inside of me shimmer briefly to life.
I crave to deepen the kiss. To push her down onto the sofa and kiss her like there’s no tomorrow. My cock begs for me to tug her yoga pants from her body and sink inside her tight heat.
But I can’t.
She’s barely warming back up to me.
I won’t ruin it out of desperation to mark and claim her for the first time.
It takes everything in me but I pull away from her kiss and grin. “Sure, babe. I’ll get us some food.”
She beams at me, but for a brief moment something flashes in her eyes. I don’t recognize the glimmer. It’s dark and foreign. Before I can pinpoint what it is, she reaches forward and pushes some of my hair from my eyes.
“You need a haircut,” she says and then laughs. I search her face for sadness or anger. Or anything. Something was there but now it’s gone. Now she’s happy. Almost too happy.
“Babe,” I start slowly, “is something wrong? You looked upset for a minute.”
Her eyes widen and she bites on her lower lip. I drop my gaze to her mouth and crave to nibble on it too. Later. Definitely later.
“I was just wondering…”
I arch an eyebrow at her in question.
“Where’d you get all this money, Brandon?”
My eyes tear from hers and I flick them to the painting on the wall behind her. Black brush strokes up and down. Left and right. Smudging together, attempting to hide the red blob beneath. It kind of feels like my heart. Like I have a black paintbrush of deceit trying desperately to cover up the hate. What the hate made me do.
“Brandon.” I feel her hand squeeze mine. “Tell me.”
With a sigh, I meet her eyes. “I took his money. That freak you were with. He took what was mine, so I took his money.” The bite in my voice is sharp and not meant to sting her, but it does.
Her eyes widen and her plump lips part open. “The money War sent for Mom? You took his money?”
The way she says his name, as if he’s precious to her, sends ice through my veins. “Your dad had clearly bailed. Fucking asshole,” I snap. “After I found the note, I’d seen in the emails that he was receiving money for your mother and she had already died. I figured we could use it, babe. It’s our money to start over. We can buy a house and—”