31. Wes

Chapter thirty-one

Wes

I seethe with anger as I sit in my car, staring at Bannister’s rundown apartment from across the street. My mind reels replaying Layne, telling me about what this piece of shit did to her as a child. What he did to my wife. My fucking wife. He is partially responsible for her trauma and mental health issues. I will make this piece of shit beg for death with the pain I will inflict on him.

The only person who will give him that release is Layne.

It’s apparent that Bannister is still heavy in the drug game, people coming and going every ten to fifteen minutes. Observing the constant stream of people entering and exiting the apartment, I can’t help but wonder if Bannister is still involved in the child trafficking trade. The mere thought of innocent lives being exploited under his control makes my stomach churn with disgust.

I notice a man inside the apartment that stays longer than the others, capturing my attention. Intrigued, I sit up in my car, fixating my gaze on the windows, searching for any sign of movement within the bedrooms. As lights in the apartment dim, two men and a little girl emerge. My heart rate quickens as I observe these grown men escorting a little girl, who appears to be no older than ten, towards a waiting car.

My plan was to wait for Bannister to leave so I could go through his apartment. Now that plan has changed. I need to ensure the safety of this little girl. My car follows behind, but not close enough to where they can spot me. Their car stops in front of an older house and Bannister escorts the girl up the stairs to the door. I hold my breath, watching and hoping this is not what I think it’s about to be. I wanted more time to plan his death. I wanted Layne to get the closure she rightfully deserves.

While reaching for my mask, a woman opens the door and the little girl rushes towards her. The scared woman is yelled at by Bannister, pointing towards the little girl. Is this a child of his? The little girl runs inside the house and moments later a light flickers on upstairs. The door to the balcony slides open and the girl sits down. Hugging her knees to her chest I watch as she cries.

After slapping the woman, Bannister heads to the car. Instead of trailing them, my priority is the safety of this girl. I slip my balaclava over my head, opting to not wear my mask. I don’t need to scare the poor kid. Quietly, I exit my car and cautiously approach the side of the house where the little girl is sitting on the balcony, tears still streaming down her face.

“Psst,” I whisper-yell to the little girl.

She pops her head up; her face peeking through the metal bars of the balcony. “Are you a cat burglar? Because we don’t have a cat.”

I chuckle. I guess I need to update my ensemble if I am looking like a cat burglar. “No princess, I’m not. The neighborhood cats are safe from me. I’m here to make sure that you’re okay. Did those men that brought you here hurt you?”

She looks up, startled, her eyes wide with fear. “I – I’m not supposed to talk about it. ”

I try to reassure her, assuring her I’m here to help and that she’s safe now. “You can tell me, princess, I am one of the good guys.”

“No such thing, all boys are bad,” her voice trembling with vulnerability. Bannister has caused her some kind suffering, just like he did to Layne.

My anger builds, but I push it aside for now, focusing on the immediate task at hand — getting this girl to safety. “I work with the police. I can make sure you’ll be safe. Is that your mommy in the house?” She nods hesitantly, her trust in me growing.

“Mommy loves him, but not me.” The sadness in her voice breaking my heart. No kids should ever feel like this. I loathe shitty parents that put their own selfish wants over the safety of their flesh and blood.

“Do you want to go someplace safe, where he can’t hurt you anymore?” I ask, checking to ensure they haven’t returned.

She nods.

“Is your mommy awake still?” Not really giving a shit about her mother, but it will make things easier on me getting this girl to a safe house without her fighting me.

“I’ll check.” She gets up and goes inside. A few moments later, she returns, “No, I think she took her medicine. It makes her go to sleep.”

Medicine, right! God some people don’t deserve to be parents.

“Okay, I want you to listen really good. Get a backpack, princess, and fill it with some clothes.”

Time is of the essence. The girl goes inside to gather her belongings. Ten minutes later, the door to the house opens, she slips out of the house. I hold out my hand to her and make our way to my car, carefully avoiding any attention. I drive us to a nearby safe house that my uncle and I set up when I started, where she can find temporary refuge and support. Occasionally, I have had to bring people here to get out of dangerous situations. Gloria runs a foster home, so she is fully vetted and I would trust her with my own kids.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” I ask, as I grab her backpack and help her out of the car.

“Tell me yours first,” her eyes narrow at me.

Clever girl.

“Promise not to tell?” I raise my eyebrow at her. She nods.

“My name is Wes, and the kind lady who runs this home is Gloria. She’s going to take good care of you. I’ll make sure of it.” I hold out my hand to her. With hesitation on her face, she still slips her hand into mine as we make our way to the door.

“Evie. My name is Evie.” she looks up at me as we stop before the door. Under my balaclava, I smile.

I knock three times on the door and stand back. A short Hispanic woman emerges as the door opens. “Evening Gloria, miss me? I’m in a bit of a pickle. Can we come in?”

“ Hijo de puta ,“ she mutters under her breath before stepping aside to let us inside. “What do you need? It’s late Wes.” she gives me that look that moms give their kids when they’re in trouble.

“I’m working a… job. This is Evie, she needs a safe place to stay until I can get everything lined up with my uncle. Just a few days, maybe a week.” I know she is already almost at her max.

“Okay…okay put the damn puppy eyes away.” She turns to Evie and says, “Sweetie, the first door down the hall is the bathroom, and the left door is the girls’ room. The top bunk is yours. Go ahead.” Gloria smiles at Evie. I hand her the backpack and she makes her way down the hall.

After she enters, I take off the balaclava. I run my hands through my hair, pushing it out of my face. “Sorry to drop this on you, but couldn’t leave her there. I just couldn’t.” I drop into the chair, leaning forward, head in my hands.

“ Está bien ,“ she says, patting my shoulder, “you just have a big heart. Just make sure we get her somewhere safe. ”

I nod. “I’m gonna check on her before I leave. If you need anything, you call me or my uncle, okay?”

“I always do.” She laughs.

I knock before entering the bedroom. Evie and two other girls are sitting on the bottom bunk of a bed. She smiles at me, seeing my face.

“Do you know your full name, princess?” I ask, hoping she knows so I have something to work with.

“Evelyn Mazzy Coronado, I’m nine and a half.” She says proudly.

Damn, I was so close.

“I’ll check on you in a few days,” I say, heading towards the door. Tiny arms wrap around my middle, and I look down to see her hugging me. I pat the top of her head, then crouch to her level. “You’re safe now, princess. I won’t let anything happen to you now.”

Once outside, I text Layne and update her on the situation and let her know I am on my way home.

Layne: Drive safe, Buainteoir.

While my initial plan got sidetracked, I realize that saving this little girl is far more important. The drive back from South City to Layne is silent as I sit with my thoughts. I’ve just added more to my plate, and I have even less time to deal with Bannister now. On Monday, I’ll start finding a loving family for Evie. Uncle Robert handles that part of this for me, having a list of meticulously vetted families to take kids from situations like this.

I pull up to the gate, punching in the code, and driving through. The lights are on in the loft. It seems Layne couldn’t fall back to sleep. As I lock the door behind me, I turn to head upstairs, but suddenly my nose is hit with the sinfully delicious scent of cinnamon.

“Aw shit,” I smirk, taking the steps two at a time and entering the living space.

My woman made cookies .

I stop and watch my beautiful wife dancing around in the kitchen with headphones on, wet hair and one of my shirts on. No bottoms.

I’m definitely going to make a permanent no bottoms rule for her.

As I watch Layne move gracefully in the kitchen, the scent of cinnamon enveloping the air, I can’t help but feel a rush of warmth and love. It’s moments like these that remind me why I do what I do. For Siobhan, for Layne and little girls like Evie. They deserve someone to give a shit about them.

Why not me?

I walk towards her, a soft smile playing on my lips. Layne notices my presence and removes her headphones, her eyes lighting up as she sees me. With a mischievous grin, I playfully tease, “You know, I think it’s time we establish a permanent ‘no bottoms’ rule for you.”

She chuckles and playfully rolls her eyes, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders. “Oh, really? And what’s the punishment for breaking that rule?” she asks, a hint of challenge in her voice.

I look at the counter and a rack of oatmeal raisin cookie, still hot, sit cooling. My mouth waters.

I step closer, wrapping my arms around her waist, pulling her closer to me. “Well, I think I’ll have to come up with a suitable consequence,” I suggest with a smirk. I grab a cookie, breaking off a piece and popping it in my mouth, burning the shit out of my tongue.

“Ow, hot,” I mumble, shifting the cookie around in my mouth to get it to cool faster.

Layne laughs, her eyes sparkling with love and happiness. “They’re still hot,” she says, leaning in to kiss me softly. In that moment, everything else fades away, and it’s just the two of us, lost in each other’s embrace.

When Layne pulls back, she looks me over, and I wonder if I look as emotionally drained as I feel.

“Milk or Whisky?” She asks, pulling a glass down from the cabinet .

I come to a pause, allowing myself a moment to take in a deep breath and gather my thoughts. I murmur the word “Whisky.” My chest feels heavy, as if a weight is pressing down on it.

“Wanna tell me about it?” Layne pours a double shot of whisky and slides it in front of me.

“Maybe in a little bit. Right now, I want to drink this.” I bring the glass to my lips, downing all of it. “And eat my favorite snack.”

Layne picks up a cookie to hand it to me.

“That is not my favorite snack, Ma Petite Mort. “ I lick my lips as my eyes trail down her body. I lift Layne into my arms, carrying her to our bed. “If you’re not sitting on my face in five seconds, I’m going to spank you.”

I put her down on the bed, and then flop down next to her. Layne stares at me.

“Seriously?” she questions, a smirk on her face.

“One,” I count.

“Wes, seriously. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Two.”

“Okay, Jesus!” She laughs, sliding her thong off. “Is this like your therapy when you’re stressed out?”

“Three. And it is now. Thanks for the idea, baby.” I wink at her.

Layne straddles my head, facing away from me. But she doesn’t sit; she fucking hovers.

“Four,” I growl.

“I’m right here.” She argues, her voice a little more high pitched.

“I told you to sit. You’re hovering. Fi—,” and before I can finish, Layne sits down. My lips and chin wet from her dripping arousal. I devour her like a starving man. I slip my arms over her thighs, anchoring her to my face.

“Wes. Oh, fuck,” she whimpers as her thighs quake in my grasp. My tongue dives inside, savoring the taste of her. I lean her forward, so I have better access to her clit, sucking and teasing the swollen nub.

“Do you want to come, baby?” I ask, slowly licking up her pussy.

“Uh huh, “she moans, wiggling her ass a little.

“Then lean forward and suck my cock while I suck on your pretty little clit till you drown me.”