All is Lost (All Series, Book 2) (49 page)

My bliss fades quickly when I
remember running away like a little bitch after losing her (I know
I threw her away, but I didn’t have a choice at that moment).
Escaping my pain, I chased the devil and replaced the grief with
sin. I really thought it was a fucking genius idea. Looking back at
the results, revamping my life and filling it with booze and babes
was a complete cluster fuck of bad ideas.

Briefly, my mind drifts to Candy.
I sigh as the guilt inundates me. I hope that she managed to stay
out of the clutches of those fucking bastards who were trying to
kill her. I stand behind the fact that leaving her alone was best
for me and her. Marcus and Tac are right, I can’t protect myself
much less a woman running from hired killers.

Every choice I make effects more
than just me. I finally figured that shit out after paying a hefty
price that will surely bankrupt me emotionally if I don’t get
Waverly back.

She is the one, I whisper to the
twinkling in the dark sky.

Swiping a boot against the
kickstand, I gun the throttle on my motorcycle and ride into the
city center. On the hunt for Spyder, I park at O’LaLa’s and join a
crowd who appear to be looking for the infamous man also. Parking
my ass in a leather chair inside his shop, I wait my turn and two
hours later I walk out of the tattoo parlor sporting the outlines
for two intertwined stars. Everything has changed especially my
dreams and plans. Gone is the egotistical prick, I was before
losing her. Now I’m the man who desperately wishes his real life
little star’s head was resting on my shoulder where the replication
is now.

***

Breesan

I watch Marcus pull out of my driveway and
give a little finger wiggle wave before shutting and locking the
front door. I punch in the code to set the house alarm and climb
the stairs going back to my bedroom.

“
I’m just going to relax and clear
my head of everything for one evening. I can do it. I just need to
focus on good things and control my breathing,” I say to the now
empty house.

However, my ghosts eavesdrop on my little pep
talk and accept the challenge. A flood of memories inundate me as I
enter my bedroom. I spot the open packet from the University of
Miami and my eyes instantly avert to the calendar positioned on my
desk. Spotting the thick red circled date, I realize I have just
over three weeks before I am expected at freshman orientation. I
can’t just show up now with the whole damn world believing that I
was abducted.

A heavy sigh rushes out when I think about my
plans and the plans my dad always expected me to follow. What would
he expect from me now, given the deadly situation? I know he would
want me safe. Is it safe now with Julia gone? Will Dr. A want to
come after me now or was it Julia’s plan alone to get rid of me? I
have a million more questions and I really need answers to at least
a few of them. At the top of the list is what am I going to do to
help my friends?

Feeling my way through the haunting memories
the guilt hits me like a sucker punch to the jaw remembering that
Tristan is supposed to join me at school, but since his injury I
don’t know if he’ll be healthy enough to make that move, and now
that he’s different will that still be his plan? Anna would be
moving to Paris a month after our move.
Oh Anna, I’m so
sorry.
I pray that we find her in time. As much as I want to
keep her with me when we do find her, I know starting a life in
fashion is her dream and I can’t expect her to give up everything
for my selfish needs. I wonder what Morgan’s plans will be now that
his father has disowned him and attending graduate school is no
longer part of his future.

The price everyone has paid for me is an
unfair sacrifice. Just when I think I can control the bullshit,
guilt starts squeezing the life out of me. I picture the faces of
Jack, Ian, and Tyle and imagine their pain at losing Waverly. What
are her plans? I don’t know anything about her other than she works
at the club.

Everyone’s stories have changed because of
two very evil people who want me dead
.

My protection hasn’t come easy for the four
member team, whose real jobs are national protection against drug
dealers not babysitting me. Although, being with them has
significantly changed me and opened my naive eyes to a completely
fucked up world. I am grateful for their relationships, but I
accept that if not for this Dr. A situation, that destiny has dealt
them, they wouldn’t know the name Breesan Maxwell.

Something snaps in my head.
Who is Breesan
Maxwell? Everything I was is dead and gone. I thought I was a
fighter before but since the abductions that is all I have been
doing and now I know I am. Fighting to survive, fighting for
friends, fighting through loving others, and I will keep getting
stronger with the help of the people that surround me and those
whom I’ve lost.

“
Everything has changed,” I breathe
out proudly.

I turn on the water in the tub and begin
sorting through clothes hanging in my closet for something familiar
and cozy to wear. Smiling as I scoop a vintage Backstreet Boys
tee-shirt off the wall of tee-shirts, I chose a pair of soft white
shorts and just for some added comfort I pick up a thick pair of
fuzzy red and white striped socks.

I flip on the radio and sort through the
stations until my favorite Paramore song
Still Into You
gets
me wiggling around and I sing along with the lyrics. Letting myself
go I get silly thinking about my man and replace all the ‘You’s’
with Marcus’ name. The biggest, goofiest grin perpetually plasters
itself on my face.

Literally, everything with him has changed
after making love last night. Waking up this morning and knowing
that he loves me encourages me to move forward with that one
little, four-letter word that I forced away for almost fourteen
years. Stripping out of my shirt and panties I smile as I remember
watching my angel morph into a devil last night as he plunged into
me repeatedly. I never imagined how fantastic sex could be; or is
it fantastic because of Marcus? Ohgod yes it’s because of Marcus. I
have never felt like this with anyone else. I love him more than
anyone and I’m so thankful that he is all
Mine
.

I drop my towel on the vanity and just as I
stick my toe into the steaming water the door chimes with a
warning, ‘Back door is ajar.’

Instant and total fear invades every cell in
my body.
Someone is in my house?
The alarm didn’t activate
so they didn’t break in.
Who has a key and the code?
Quickly
I grab my bathrobe and slip out into the hallway. Taking the back
stairs I slowly creep down them and crane my neck around the
doorway leading into the kitchen. I spot the lock and notice that
it is engaged.
What the hell?
An overwhelming bothersome,
but faithful warning signal skulks into my head.

My fingernails dig into the door frame as I
force my body to turn around. Moving slowly through the house I
check the front door and the alarm panel. Everything is still
secure, but that damn alarm in my head is getting out of control,
loudly telling me that something is not right. The blood moving
through my body feels thick and sluggish as I trudge quietly up the
stairs expecting evil to come down on me at any moment.

I hear a bump at the end of the hallway and
freeze in place.
Someone is in the house
. I pan the area
looking for anything to use as a weapon. Instantly my mind tells me
that it is one of the hired thugs who somehow found out that I am
still on Willow Island.
Shit what if it is? They will have guns.
How will I get out of this alive?

Remembering the guns my father keeps in his
safe in his office downstairs I quickly and silently bolt back down
the twenty steps and slide on bare feet along the wood floors as I
whip through the hallway and rush through the doorway. I retrieve
one of his personal small handguns, all of his heavier firepower
would be with him in Afghanistan or wherever his prison is
now.

Another bump upstairs, louder this time, makes
me jump and I suppress a scream by biting the hell out of my lip.
Exhaling a heavy breath, I decide on taking the back stairs up and
hope I catch whoever it is off guard. It’s dark on this side of the
house so my eyes must adjust before I can see clearly after my feet
hit the upstairs landing. My bedroom is on the left and the sound
seemed to come from the room across from it.
Julia’s
bedroom.
The door was closed before I went down and now it is
standing completely open. I hold the gun up in my outstretched
arms, gripping the handle until my knuckles no longer have blood
flowing through them.

Trying to be strong, I step through the room
toward the oversized master bathroom and push open the door with my
toe. The creaking sound of course is an obnoxious groan and I hold
my breath while praying that no one else heard it. Flipping on the
overhead light, I scan the room and twist around quickly. Every
damn scary movie that I have ever watched always starts out with
the girl searching out the killer and forgetting about her
backside. I’ll be damn if some fucker is sneaking up on me. A
bullet in the brain cavity will have them regretting that
mistake.

Thank you Marcus for teaching me how to
shoot,
I smile inwardly.

Crouching forward with my head and the gun
tilted slightly, I retrace my path and enter into the hallway
again. I pause to listen for any out of the ordinary noise, but my
nervousness is so out of control that the pulse throbbing in my
ears is blocking out every sound. Feeling a little lightheaded, I
risk being a sitting duck when I close my eyes and slow my
breathing just to regain my control. I don’t feel the pull of my
anxiety flip, which is completely unbelievable, unless somehow I’m
in denial and it is sulking outside the perimeter of my sanity. I
relax just a tiny bit and open my eyes. Craning my neck from left
to right twice without hearing another sound, I blow out a whisper
of a breath.

It was only my imagination
, I convince
myself.

Believing that the sound could have just been
coming from the house or maybe even from outside, I lower the gun
to my side.
What about the door?

“
Damn Breesan, get a hold of
yourself. All of this secret squirrel business has your imagination
working overtime.”

Just to be one hundred percent certain that I
am indeed home alone, I walk down the front stairs and check every
room on the lower level.
Nothing.
Except for my neurotic ass
there isn’t anyone in this house. I return my dad’s gun back to the
safe and shut his office door. I peek out the sidelights by the
front door, spotting the unmarked vehicle and everything appears
normal. My confidence is back, but I think it might help if I make
a quick phone call. Hearing the sexy rumble of Marcus’ voice will
settle down the crazies in my head. If I call him it will most
definitely ignite my desire for him and I will just end up begging
him to come back. Jogging up the steps with a goofy grin on my
face, I head toward my room in search of my cell. I decide that I
will remain strong -
absolutely no freggin’
begging
!

Striding across the room, directly toward my
desk, I pick up my cell and slide my thumb across the screen to
unlock it. I scroll through my contacts list, which I notice has
grown from three to ten quickly and I smile, knowing the new
additions all fall into the category of friends. I select the
profile picture of my beautiful man’s face, with his “I am sex
walking” smirk, dazzling emerald eyes and smile again as I press
send. It goes straight to his voice mail.

“
Hi you reached Marcus Walker. I
can’t take your call right now, but if you leave a message I will
get back to you soon
.”

Ohgod, his voice melts me. Sighing as I listen
intently, hanging onto every purred syllable, I consider asking him
to call me back. I would much rather hear the live version, but I
decide against leaving him a message. He is too busy with the
investigation and doesn’t need any distractions from me right now.
I cancel the call and return my phone to its cradle. Remembering my
plans for a nice long soak in my bathtub, I spin around toward the
bathroom and what I see sitting on my bed paralyzes me.

It can’t be
my mind
rationalizes.

One second the chambers in my chest, that are
suppose to support airflow, locks down on me and then the very next
one, my lungs are heaving for oxygen.

Ohgod,
I scream internally.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, clutching my
black and pink checkered pillow is the ghost of my stepmother, but
she doesn’t look like a ghost. My entire body trembles
uncontrollably at the still stare of her dead eyes holding me in
place like they have most of my life.

No, she isn’t real. Julia’s
dead.

With barely one controlled breath available, I
suck it in deeply and whisper out a stuttered question,
“J...Julia?”

“
No Breesan.” A tiny lift in the
corner of her lips indicates an attempt at a smile while she
purposely shakes her head slowly. “I think I’m your
mother.”