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OceanofPDF - Com DOLLY - Measha Stone

A book

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0% found this document useful (0 votes)
3K views217 pages

OceanofPDF - Com DOLLY - Measha Stone

A book

Uploaded by

solaceileso
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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DOLLY

OceanofPDF.com
MEASHA STONE

OceanofPDF.com
Copyright © 2020 by MEASHA STONE
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author,
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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Join Measha’s Email List! You’ll also get a free ebook!

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CONTENTS

Fair Warning

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31

Kristoff
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Also by MEASHA STONE

OceanofPDF.com
FAIR WARNING

Dolly is a dark, twisted, psychological thriller involving those that have


killed, and those that will be killed. If you find any of these things to be
triggering or unappealing, please turn back now.

To everyone else…you’ve been warned.

OceanofPDF.com
ONE

OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY

A blast of light drowns me in my cell. I scramble to the corner, as if


that will keep them away. Huddling in the corner, dirty, naked, cold,
shivering against the cinderblock walls…it’s not a turn off—not to them.
“There’s a good girl,” a familiar voice cracks through the silence. I
cover my ears, pressing my hands to them as though it will drown him out.
It never has.
Not the other dozens of times he’s come for me.
“Come now, Dolly. It’s time to play for the camera.” The cell door
creaks as it opens, and my body stiffens. The casual slap of his boots on the
concrete floor sends ice through my veins.
I can’t do this.
Not again.
Please.
Begging doesn’t work.
It only makes him mad.
Still, I scream the pleas in my head, over and over again.
Maybe God will hear this time.
Maybe he’ll send help.
Maybe I’ll simply die and this will finally be over.
“Up you go.” His clammy hand wraps around my upper arm. “Someone
needs a bath first.” He sniffs my hair. It’s tangled and matted from last
night. The man made a mess, and no one cleaned me up.
“Let’s go.” He drags me to my feet and hauls me from my cell.
“No!” The words fall out before my mind blocks them. I yank and pull,
kick at his fat shins, but I get nowhere.
“Enough!” he yells.
Another bright light blinds me. Stars and sunrays dance in my vision,
the sharp pain in my jaw lost among the aches of my muscles.
I crumble in his grip. The fight, what pathetic amount I had, is gone.
I’ve been here too long to be so stupid.
My feet shuffle along the floor. I let him shove me into the stall.
“They’re wanting a little girl today. Your specialty,” he says as he turns
on the water. Ice cold drops hit my face. A shudder breaks the tension in my
back. “A few bows, some pigtails—you’ll do real good.” He shoves a bar of
soap in my hand. It’s filthy, just like everything else here, covered in the dirt
and grime of those who came before me.
“Won’t you, Dolly?” he presses for an answer, like I can make my
throat work to produce anything other than a sob.
“Won’t you.” His hand rests on the coil of rope he keeps hooked to his
belt.
I don’t want the rope.
“Yes. I’ll be a good dolly,” I promise. “A good dolly,” I say again as I
run the bar of soap over my aching breasts and between my legs.
Tears well up in my eyes, but they get lost in the spray of the shower.
Clean and pure.
It’s what sells.
It’s what keeps me alive.
So far.

OceanofPDF.com
TWO

OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY

“F ood’s here.” A tray drops onto my cell floor. Water sloshes out of
the shallow cup and puddles on the concrete.
I tense in my corner. Until he backs out and locks the cell door, I’m on
alert. It’s been two days since I was dragged upstairs for another scene. I’m
sure I won’t be given another day of reprieve. They have tight schedules to
adhere to. It’s what they tell me when they shove me into the dark rooms. I
need to hurry. I need to keep up. I need to shut the fuck up and spread my
legs.
“Eat.” He toes the tray toward me. Why hasn’t he left yet?
It could be a trick. If I reach for it, will he snag it away? They like to do
that. A small gesture of comfort ripped from my grasp. It’s entertainment
for them.
Pangs grip my stomach just smelling the burnt hotdog. I’m too hungry
to risk the tray disappearing and he’s not leaving, so I crawl across the cold
concrete, each movement making the bruises on my knees throb. His
approving grunt fills my cell. Scurrying like a scavenger for the food tossed
my way must please him. The more they treat me like an animal, the
happier they seem to be.
Picking up the metal tray, I lean back against the cot frame, cradling it
on my folded legs. Only taking a small sip of water, I quench a fraction of
my thirst. If I drink it too fast, I’ll throw it up again. I made that mistake
already and paid the price. I won’t be stupid again.
“Go on. Eat.” He still won’t leave.
“Am…am I going upstairs today?” It’s a big risk, asking him that
question. But not knowing is making my chest tighten. I’ve always been a
worrier. Since I was a little girl. What if the sun got too hot? What if it
started snowing and never stopped? Always more questions than answers. I
could drown in questions. Sitting in my cell, not knowing what’s planned
for me…it sucks the air from my lungs.
“You want to?” he asks, amusement in his tone. “You’re eager to get to
work.”
I shake my head and take a small bite of the hotdog. It’s blackened from
a fire, but it’s cold. My stomach doesn’t care.
“When…when can I go home?” I’m pushing my luck, but the question
leaks out between bites.
“When Bossman says you can.”
Bossman. He makes all the decisions—none of them good for me.
“Please. Just let me go home.” I raise my eyes to look at his face. Thick
black stubble covers his chin. His lips bubble between his mustache and
beard.
“I just told you. When Bossman says you’re done. Not until then.” He
bends down and grabs the tray.
I snag the cup of water, quickly gulping the last few sips. A drop
escapes and lingers on my lips. They’re so dry, it burns, but I lick it up. I
need every bit. I need to get stronger. I need to get my head clear and my
legs to move. I need to find a way out of here.
Bossman says he’ll let me go, but he’s lying. It’s been days…or
weeks…or months. Time doesn’t exist in this cell. Sun doesn’t exist.
There’s no day, no night, only upstairs and downstairs. He’s not going to let
me go. I have to start thinking of a way out.
“I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” Pathetic, I know. A sign of how stupid
I’ve become. It’s not a ploy or lie, though. I couldn’t even imagine telling
anyone what goes on here. How could I explain the things I’ve done—the
things I’m going to do next time they drag me upstairs?
“Of that, I’m certain.” Laughing, he steps back out of my cell and slams
the door. Metal clanks against metal as he slides the lock in place.
“Please.” I crawl to the door, gripping the bars. I hate this part: the
begging. It goes unanswered, but his eyes shine with pleasure. He wants me
to crawl for him, to plead with him so he can take away my hope.
He crouches in front of me, balancing the tray in one hand. Reaching
through the bars, he picks up a thick curl and rubs it between his fingers.
“Shhh, it’s okay, baby girl. I know you don’t want me to go.” His lips screw
into a devil’s grin. “I’ll make sure your next scene is with me. Would you
like that?”
I want to recoil, but that will make him angry—and anger is to be
avoided.
“I want to go home,” I whisper.
“I’m sure you’ll do your best.” He drops my hair and stands up. His
erection strains against his jeans. He lingers to make sure I see it. My
reprieve is coming to an end.
Tears fill my eyes. Why is this happening?
“Looks like you’re getting some company.” He shuffles to the side as
two men scramble into the room, a third hanging between them. His face is
swollen, blood dripping from his mouth as one of his escorts opens the cell
across from me and tosses him inside. A groan escapes him, but he makes
no move to get up.
“No talking, you two. Behave, Dolly,” Beardman says, tugging on his
belt—his favorite thing to use on me. If we’re going to be together upstairs
soon, I have to be good. I can’t give him reason to use it. And now that I
have food in my stomach, I can think clearer. I can keep myself from
getting into trouble.
Beardman says something to the other two, and they all laugh as they
walk back to the door. The door leading out of the basement is flush with
my cell. Their heavy steps rattle the wall my cot is pressed against. It’s the
first warning that someone’s coming. A cot and a bucket is all I have. If I
lay down flat on the floor, I can almost touch my toes to one wall and my
hands to the other. The other cell isn’t as nice as mine.
Once they’re gone, I scramble to the bars. The light in my cell goes out
when they close the door. A single bulb at the end of the hall flickers,
illuminating my cell in a dank yellow. I blink a few times, trying to focus
enough to see more than a shadow of the figure across from me. His body is
contorted, but his face is turned toward me. His jaw is swelling. A thick
lock of hair has fallen over his eye. Dark bruises cover his back, but it’s the
blood that sends my stomach into a twisted storm of worry.
A steady stream flows from his ass. And on his right cheek, there’s a
small tattoo. Even in the dark, I can make it out.
B
Whoever he is, he belongs to Bossman.
My fingers flutter over the matching ink on my right buttock.
We both belong to Bossman.
New tears build and spill.
I’m never going home.

OceanofPDF.com
THREE

OceanofPDF.com
BRIAN

R aindrops roll down my back as I remove my coat. Fucking storm.


Half the county is in a blackout, and I’m starting my day soaked
through.
“Hey,” Cathy greets me with a thin-lipped smile. I shake out my coat
and dump it in the empty chair at my desk.
“Morning. Just give me a minute, I need to change.” I start unbuttoning
my shirt as I turn for the locker room.
“That can wait.” Cathy puts a hand on my arm. “Captain wants us.” She
jerks her head toward the corner office.
“Yeah, okay.” I grab my phone from my coat and slip it into my back
pocket. If I’m lucky, an emergency call will come in before the captain gets
a chance to piss on my day.
“Brian, Cathy.” Captain Richards looks up from his computer screen.
He’s been on the job too long. The creases on his forehead get deeper every
year. The bags under his eyes are so heavy, they pull down into his gaunt
cheeks. But he’s not going to retire anytime soon.
“Morning.” Cathy gives him a polite nod and hooks her hands on her
hips, ready for whatever bullshit assignment he throws at us. No matter how
small, she’s grateful to have a case. No matter what the media might run in
their nightly news, a woman shoots down a superior for a nightcap, there’re
consequences. First, she gets saddled with me as a partner. Second, she gets
shit caseloads.
We haven’t worked anything serious in nearly a year—my own
punishment for having miscalculated the age of a woman I took home after
a night at the bar. Also, not realizing she was the daughter of a higher
ranking official. Yeah, I was fucked—thankfully not in the literal sense,
which is the only reason I’m still carrying a badge.
“A girl’s gone missing.” He tosses a file down on the desk and flips it
open. Light brown hair, sweet features—wholesome.
“Okay.” I pick up the picture. Nothing out of the ordinary about her.
Pretty, but that’s not exactly rare these days with filters.
“Abigail Johansen. Twenty-three. Missing for two months now.”
“Two months and she was just reported?” Cathy asks.
Captain shakes his head. “No. Her parents reported her missing right
away. She was supposed to meet them for dinner and never showed. Think
you can hold your questions ’til the end?”
Cathy’s shoulders roll back, but she only nods. “Yes, sir.”
He straightens to his full height, pulling his pants up at the waist.
“Good. Now…” he points to the picture, “Castro and Evans worked the
case until the trail went cold. The parents resolved themselves to the idea
the girl’s dead. But there’s been a report Abigail was spotted.”
If he doesn’t want questions until the end of his spiel, he should hurry
the fuck up and get to the point.
“I’m putting you on a taskforce that’s tracking down several leads.
Castro and Evans are being put on another case, so you’re stepping up.” He
frowns. “If I had anyone else available, they’d be going, but as it is, you
two are it.”
“Well, your confidence in us doesn’t go unnoticed.” I throw him a wide
grin.
“Right.” He pushes the file toward me. “You’ll meet up with the
taskforce in an hour.”
“A taskforce for one missing girl?” Cathy asks.
“No. They have bigger targets than just Abigail Johansen, but she fits
the profile of a group they think has been abducting women and putting
them in their underground porn flicks.”
“A sex ring?” This case just got a whole lot more interesting.
“That’s how she was spotted. In a movie. They’ll get you up to speed.”
He waves us away.
I scoop up the file and take one more look at the picture before tucking
it inside the manila folder. Cathy’s already gone back to her desk. She won’t
spend any more time in his presence than warranted. Captain grins at her
retreating form through the window of his door. He’s never gotten his cock
in her, but he’s fucked her good, and he knows it.
I clench my jaw. Saying anything won’t improve her situation—or
mine. For now, we work the cases given to us and keep our mouths shut.
“And…uh, Brian,” he says as my hand comes down on the door handle,
“if by some chance you actually find the girl, try not to stick your dick in
her, okay?”
“I’ll do my very best.” I wink, then get the fuck out of his office.
“We’re getting put on a taskforce?” Cathy tries to hush her voice, but
she really only has one volume.
“Looks like.” I toss the file on my desk. “I’m going to change my shirt.”
My coat has created a nice puddle beneath my chair.
“Why would he put us on a taskforce like that? It sounds like a big
case.”
“Because there are two spots to fill and we’re expendable. Gets us out
of his hair for a while.” I tap the file folder. “Worse case, we’re put on grunt
duty.” Which will piss me right the fuck off and may push me to finally
give up my badge. “Best case, we get to do some actual work and find these
girls who are probably living in hell right now.”
She eyes the file with skepticism. Nothing good has been handed to
either of us in the past six months.
“Maybe our punishments are finally over.” I smile. Although I will
eventually be forgiven, Cathy will have to endure the Captain’s loaded
comments and creepy stares until she manages a transfer.
“Go change your shirt. I can see through the cheap ass material.” She
takes the file to her desk, and I make my way to the locker room, the image
of Abigail Johansen flashing behind my eyes. Pretty enough girl to catch the
depraved attention of wicked men. My years on the force send my
imagination into overdrive, but nothing I come up with can probably
compare to hell she’s living—the debauchery she’s facing.
I burst into the locker room. Our careers aside, worst case, we find the
girl dead—or would that be the best case?

OceanofPDF.com
FOUR

OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY

“L ooks like Ken is still sleeping.” Beardman is back.


I roll onto my side, tucking my knees as far up to my chin as I
can. I’m tired, so tired.
“C’mon, Dolly. Playtime.” The keys jangle as they work into the lock.
I shake my head, but don’t dare make a sound.
“We need to dress you up.” He’s inside. His feet shuffle over the
concrete, and an eerie chill climbs down my spine. He’s standing over me.
If I keep my eyes closed, will this all go away?
All this time, and stupid ideas still pop into my head.
He kicks the cot, and it’s enough to get me moving. My stomach will be
next.
I push myself up, and before I can blink my eyes open, he pulls me to
my feet. I shuffle behind him. He’s turned on all the lights in the hall. The
brightness blinds me, so I keep my head down. It’s a small thing, protecting
my eyes, but it’s all I can do.
The wooden stairs aren’t level. Some of them tilt to the side, and a few
are loose. I trip twice going up them. Beardman doesn’t break stride even as
my knees scrape on the last step.
Even more light cascades over my face as we emerge from the cellar.
It’s real light—sunlight. Black dots my vision as I scramble to keep up with
him.
“Ah, there’s my girl. There’s my pretty doll,” Bossman welcomes me.
The thick scent of stale cigars fills the room. “Put your hand down so I can
see you.” His tone is light, almost happy, but I’m getting smarter. He’s only
putting on a show. The cameras must be on already.
“She needs a dress, and her hair needs to be brushed,” Beardman
criticizes, like he doesn’t like me being in here yet.
“No, no, I’ll dress her. It’s fine.” Bossman takes my hand. “You can go
now.”
As soon as the door shuts quietly from behind me, I lift my gaze from
the floor, and my heart pulses. A full-sized bed with white and pink lace
blankets and a baby pink canopy rests against the far wall, and to the left is
a white bookcase filled with books and toys next to a full-length mirror. My
gaze settles on my reflection.
My hair is longer. The flat stomach I’ve always wanted, spent hours
doing crunches in my bedroom to achieve, shows how much I haven’t been
eating.
“Such a pretty little dolly,” Bossman says. No one ever uses names
around me. Bossman, Beardman,—they are characteristics I want to
remember. Because when I get out of here—if I get out of here—I’ll need to
describe them. I will need to remember this was real, it actually happened,
and I wasn’t imagining the nightmare. If I forget, if I blend it all into the
background, I’ll feel too safe, and I could end up here again—and I won’t
let that happen.
Cameras are mounted in two corners, facing downward, and one stands
on a tripod facing the entire room. The red lights glow.
We’re live.
A laptop sits on the nightstand beside the bed. The screen flickers. He’s
taking live comments and suggestions.
I catch the sob before it escapes me. If I cry, he’ll accuse me of being
ungrateful and a brat—and brats get punished.
He brings me to the closet and pulls out a white cotton dress with frilly
lace around the sleeves and a thick pink satin belt that ties around my waist.
“Here you go. Let’s get you dressed.”
My body goes on autopilot as he maneuvers me into the dress. It’s
what’s expected. I’m not to help or stop him. Just let him do it. He brings
out two pink ribbons and gathers my hair into pigtails, tying them off
behind my ear so my hair drapes over my chest. There’s a spot on the wall,
a small speck of something, I focus on. My body’s moved like the good
dolly they built, but they aren’t inside my head. I can hide here.
“There. That’s better.” He smiles at me, and my stomach lurches, ready
to expel the hotdog from earlier.
“Let’s see what the viewers have to say. Why don’t you sit here?” He
puts me on the bed, bending my legs and fixing the skirt of my dress until
it’s situated properly. He pulls my hands to my lap and folds them.
It’s in these moments, when I’m not supposed to be anything other than
what he makes me, I can almost tolerate this. Here, I’m just a thing. Not a
person. Not alive. No feelings or thoughts. Here, I escape into myself and
hide while the rest of me gets moved and touched…and hurt.
“Oooh.” Bossman laughs with glee. Whatever the suggestion was, he’s
happy about it. The bed dips as he sits beside me. I curl my toes as a way to
keep from looking at him.
His pudgy fingers fumble with the buttons on the front of my dress.
After working the long line of them open, he pulls the fabric apart, exposing
my bare breasts to the camera facing me. Can they see my face? Will
someone see me and recognize me? Know I don’t belong here and send
help?
I want to scream into the camera, beg someone to help me, to turn off
the feed and call the police, but I’ve been warned about what happens to
dolls who talk. They showed me, made me watch when one of the girls
before me tried. Sally. That was her name.
Sally screamed for help, begged and pleaded so much, the viewers were
annoyed. They made sure she never did it again. After they removed her
tongue, they took her away from me in the cellar. I don’t know where Sally
went, but she wasn’t with me anymore, and I was alone.
I stare at the blinking red light.
Will I go away now that Ken is here? Will he find my cell empty and be
all alone here like I was after Sally?
Cold fingers pinch my nipples, and my attention jerks back to Bossman.
He doesn’t relent, no matter how quiet I stay, how stoic I remain.
He pinches harder, and I squeak.
He laughs.
It’s a game. It’s always a game with him.
“Such a good dolly.” He kneads my breasts in his fat hands while he
looks back over the monitor. “Ah, that’s a great idea.” He gets up from the
bed. The shift of weight jostles the mattress. I press my hands against it to
keep still.
Bossman turns the computer toward me and put his hands on his hips.
“They want to see your little asshole. Turn around and spread your cheeks
for the cameras.” He gives his directions with a steel tone. He must have
turned the microphone off. He likes to keep things light on his end while
we’re live. It’s just him, playing with his doll. Nothing horrifying to see
here…except everything is horrifying—and people pay for it. I’ve heard
Bossman talk about money, about how some viewers will pay top dollar for
special scenarios. The more degrading, the more violent and humiliating,
the better. For him.
“Dolly.” His voice grates over my ears. I can’t hesitate, yet lead fills my
veins, turning my muscles to stone. It’s no worse than anything he’s made
me do before, but my heart races, my lungs won’t fill. Bend over and open
my cheeks. Show strangers everything. It’s not for them to see.
I shake my head. A fog rolls in. My thoughts are disjointed.
“Now, dammit,” he growls low.
There’s a ding from the computer. Then another. And another.
“Ah, seems our dolly is being disobedient tonight,” he says, and I throw
my body into action. I know that word. It comes with punishment, and that
means unbearable pain.
I shove off the bed and whip around, pressing my face into the mattress.
Gripping the hem of my dress in both hands, I pull it up until my bare ass
faces the cameras.
More dings, faster.
His chuckle shoots ice through my bloodstream.
“Okay, okay. You win.” He moves to the closet again. “Demontail47
will be charged one-thousand-and-fifty-dollars tonight.”
No! No, no, no, no.
I look over my shoulder.
He has the rope.
Someone bid to have me hang.
I clench my teeth. Why didn’t I move faster? Hesitation doesn’t work! I
know this!
He fists my hair and yanks me backward until I’m on my feet. “Don’t
drop that dress. Keep it up nice and high so everyone can see your ass,” he
hisses into my ear.
The burn in my scalp is nothing compared to what’s coming.
He shoves me backward until I’m in the right spot, then goes to work
with his rope. Around my armpits, my waist, between my thighs. He tugs
upward, making sure the coarse material rubs against my labia. I cry out as
he pulls the rope back and forth, working it into the right spot. He’s making
a swing of sorts, and as my body adjusts to the burn in my groin, he hoists
me up.
I’m tethered to the hoops in the ceiling. One ankle, then the other, is
knotted, and the line is thrown into another hook. Spread wide, my pussy,
my ass, my breasts—everything is exposed and open to Bossman.
“There,” he says, out of breath from all the trouble of getting me trussed
up like a prized pig. A little innocent dolly on her swing, like a child on a
playground of horrors. My hands are wound in their own bondage and
pulled over my head. Just to prove how big of an idiot I am, I tug. Useless.
The door opens.
“Ready for me?” Beardman's voice crawls over my skin.
“You want her mouth or her cunt?” Bossman asks, his jolly tone back in
full force.
My body goes rigid.
“I’ll take her pussy. Is it nice and wet?”
Bossman laughs. “Doubt it.”
“Perfect.”
His belt jangles, and his zipper lowers.
I fist my hands and clench my eyes shut. It’s all I have.
Screaming will only make the bidding go higher for more punishment.
At first, my body resists, not understanding it needs to stop fighting. It only
makes it worse. He thrusts, but only pierces my sex for a brief moment
before he stops and pulls back. It’s a momentary reprieve before Beardman
plows harder. Bursting past my entrance, he lodges his cock inside me.
Electric bolts of pain ricochet through me.
“Fuck,” he groans. It’s a sickening groan. The sort that paints a layer of
filth over my skin.
Bossman stands behind me, pulling on the ropes. He’s made me into his
own marionette. A puppet on strings. Pliable. He drags my legs open, until
my muscles strain. A burn ripples through my thighs, and I cry out, but it
doesn’t stop him. With another yank, he bends my legs at the knee until my
feet are near my ass. I’m spread so wide, every muscle in my legs burn.
He’s going to tear them out of the socket if he keeps it up.
Beardman rocks over me, his cock bruising, tearing into me with each
thrust. Tears burn my eyes as I become wet, my body creating enough
lubrication to ease some of the pain.
“Fuck. That’s right, Dolly. Get your pussy good and wet for me. You
like this, don’t you, you dirty dolly,” Beardman says between grunts. My
body is trying to protect me, to make the pain stop, but Beardman knows
how to make it hurt deep in my chest.
“A good, slutty, dirty dolly for me.” He buries himself deep into me,
grinding his hips into my body.
Hide. Hide. I try to fall back into the dark corner of my mind, but the
sound of my juices on his cock while he continues his twisted dance won’t
let me run away.
I’d make my cunt dry if I could. No matter the pain, I’d rather keep him
from getting this satisfaction. He shouldn’t get to have this part of me.
The computer dings again, and I bite down hard on my lip.
“On those pretty tits,” Bossman says, and he starts playing with the
ropes again.
“Now. Fuck yeah, now,” Beardman cries out. He never takes long. It’s
my only reprieve with him.
The ropes creak as they twist and dig into my wrists. The room spins.
Down becomes up. It blurs my vision, and my skin burns. My legs are
jerked again. I press my lips together, stifling my cry.
I try to turn away, but Bossman digs his fat fingers into my hair, forcing
me to watch Beardman jerk his cock over my chest. Hot ropes of cum land
on my breasts, searing me with his demented pleasure. The thick white
liquid slides over my skin, making me the dirty dolly they call me. By the
time his last grunt passes his lips, I’m painted in his scent. A musky stench I
won’t be able to cleanse from my mind as easily as my body.
“Fuck, her cunt is good.” He tucks his dick back in his pants.
Bossman lets go of my hair and checks the monitor again.
“They’re happy,” he announces, and finally, I can breathe. It’s the end.
It’s over. I can go back to my cell, ease my aching muscles on the cot, and
try to forget.
Bossman maneuvers me out of the ropes, but he doesn’t give Beardman
the order to take me back. The cameras are still on. Why are they still
blinking?
He forces me to the corner near the bed and shoves a stuffed rabbit in
my hands. “You stand here like the naughty girl you were today. You think
about the ways in which you’ll be better next time. Don’t move a muscle,
Dolly. Not a single muscle.” He pats my shoulder and disappears.
My nose is in the corner. My joints are on fire.
Stand here?
For how long?
My legs wobble.
“Don’t be naughty, Dolly.” Bossman’s voice echoes in my head as the
door closes with a soft click.
Silence fills the room, making the air thick.
My knees buckle, but I keep myself upright.
Maybe I can move a little.
The computer pings.
I choke back a sob.

OceanofPDF.com
FIVE

OceanofPDF.com
KENDOLL

T he girl is still sleeping in her cell. Hanging limp over the shoulder of
one of the goons, he’d dumped her on the floor, dropped a metal
bucket next to her, and slammed the door on his way out.
I grab hold of the bars and pull myself to my feet. Every muscle in my
back rages, but I force myself through it. The pain breaks through the heavy
fog in my head, giving me a moment of clarity.
Rubbing my hands over my eyes, I chase down a blip of a memory. I
stretch my body, letting the ache work itself out, but the pain in my ass isn’t
going to go away with a little yoga pose.
The full memory floods me, chasing the blood from my face. I press my
forehead against the cool bars of my cell. My thoughts start breaking up,
coming in flashes. They must have given me something.
She stirs on the floor, a groan followed by aimless reaching of her arms
until she finds the bucket. She hauls herself up enough to vomit into it.
Over and over, she wretches. My own stomach twists as her body tightens
with the force of it all.
When she’s done, she shoves the bucket away from her and collapses
back to the floor. Blood streaks the back of her dress. There are more
splatters on the skirt and tears on the sleeves.
“Hey…hey…” I call to her. She doesn’t move. “Hey,” I try, louder.
She pushes herself back up, like a rubber doll wiggling to get upright.
Fumbling with her hand, she finds the cot and maneuvers herself to sit
against it. Her skirt hikes up. There’s more blood on her legs. My fingers
curl around the bars until my knuckles go white.
“Are you okay?” asks the dumbest man alive. Of course she’s not.
She pushes her hair, most of which is loose from the pale pink ribbons,
behind her ears, and raises her chin.
Her lips are painted in dark red lipstick smeared in every direction, and
her thick black eyelashes are bent awkwardly from her eyelids.
“You shouldn’t talk,” she whispers, then rubs her hands over her lips.
Pulling her hand in front of her, she sees the lipstick and frantically swipes
at her face.
“Why?” I ask.
“They don’t want us to talk.” She picks up the hem of her dirty dress
and wipes her cheeks. More makeup comes off.
“Who?” I ask, looking as best I can down the corridor to the door.
“There’s no one here.”
“They can see us.”
A camera points down at us from over the doorframe. The LED lights
are too predominant to be infrared, and the plastic dome cover is cheap. It’s
not a live camera.
“It’s a dummy camera,” I say. “Just a prop. Not real.” Her eyes flash up
to meet mine.
Large, clear blue eyes. Beneath all the paint and false lashes, innocence
lingers there.
“They can’t see?”
I smile at the tinge of excitement in her voice, like I just gave her a gift.
Privacy, I suppose, is something she’s been lacking here. Among other
things.
“No, they can’t see or hear us.” I don’t know about that last part, but
I’m not looking to wipe away the light in her expression just yet. “Do you
know where we are?”
Her shoulders fall. “No. I was hoping—” She blows out a puff of air.
“I don’t remember much. I wasn’t here, and then I was.” I don’t go into
detail of the pure panic and rage at waking up to find myself locked in this
fucking cell. She doesn’t need to know how close I came to sobbing like a
little boy calling for his mommy.
“Yeah.” She nods. The same must have happened with her. “Are you
sore? Your back was bruised and your—” She looks back to the floor.
She wants to know about my ass? It’s a ring of fire from that fat fuck
forcing himself inside me, but she shouldn’t have to worry about that.
“I’m fine. It’s okay. I’m okay.” I wait until she looks at me again. “Are
you? There’s blood—”
She pulls her skirt over her knees and hugs them to her chest. “I haven’t
been okay since I got here.”
“When was that?” How long has she been enduring these assholes?
Playing to their tune?
“I don’t know. What’s the date?”
I open my mouth to tell her, but the memory slips away. “I don’t know. I
can’t remember how long I’ve been here. I was upstairs until—” I press the
heels of my hands into my temples, trying to force the memories to stop
swirling. One lands, and pain ripples through my chest. Oh God.
“Ken?” she whispers, like she’s testing the waters of an unknown pond.
“Yeah.” I shake my head. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I was
upstairs.” Memories, when provoked, don’t fade just because processing
them hurts. They grab hold and blossom into full horror.
“There has to be a way out of here.” I pace my cell again. If I can’t
forget, I can at least ignore for a while longer. “A loose block…a window
somewhere? Maybe we can overtake the assholes and run for the door?”
She sniffles. I’ve made her upset.
“There’s no way out, Ken. I don’t know where any windows or doors
are. The rooms upstairs—there aren’t any windows.”
“Okay, then we’ll have to watch, keep an eye out. There has to be a
way.” I force a laugh. “I mean, we got in, right?”
She swipes the back of her hand over her eyes.
“We can’t just let them…” My words fade into the background. She
doesn’t need a reminder of what happens when they take us upstairs.
“They’ll kill us if we try to escape.” She plucks the false lashes off and
throws them to the corner of her cell.
I look at her, the dried blood on the dress, her legs, the rope burns on
her wrists and ankles. I’m not entirely sure death would be worse.

OceanofPDF.com
SIX

OceanofPDF.com
BRIAN

C athy’s already waiting for me at the elevators when I step off. Just like
her to be right on time.
“You’re going to make us late,” she chides, but hands me a coffee
anyway.
“You could have gone in. Didn’t need to wait for me.” The taskforce has
been given several offices on the floor above ours. The layout isn’t any
different, but the atmosphere is a hell of a lot stuffier.
“I don’t know why, but I feel a united front here is best.”
I get the same feeling when we step into the room. There’s only three
other officers in the room, and they are already eyeballing us pretty fucking
hard. I shift my coffee to my left hand and take the lead into the room.
“Morning. I’m Brian Morton, and this is my partner, Cathy Niegel. We
were sent over from the Lake Palos office.” I offer my hand to the largest of
the guys.
He takes my hand in a firm shake and offers a quick nod. “Yeah, I heard
you were coming down today. I’m Dominick Pierce, the lead on this case.
This here is Connor Jacobs and Simon Philips.”
We exchange our pleasantries and small talk, which nauseates the fuck
out of me, but I’m trying to play nice. Richards sent us over here to fail, I’m
sure of that, but I don’t plan to. Two reasons. One: fuck him. And two: I’m
a good fucking detective.
“I read over everything we were given. The last girl, Abigail, she’s been
spotted?” Cathy asks, diving into work.
Pierce nods and points to the white board. “A tip was called into the
missing persons hotline that she was seen online. A site called Dolls for
Hire. We’ve been tracking it for a while now. Abigail isn’t the first girl.” He
walks me over to a set of computers and gestures to Jacobs.
Jacobs hits a few keys, and in a matter of seconds, we’re lingering on
the edges of the dark web. He types in another address and the home screen
pops up.
“That’s her,” Cathy says.
Front and center, Abigail’s picture is the largest graphic on the page.
False lashes, painted lips, rosy cheeks, mascara-tinted tear streaks staining
her cheeks. Her hair is split into two braids tied with bows.
“She’s the big hitter,” Pierce says. “Live feeds every couple days. They
just had one two nights ago. Horrible shit.” He winces at the memory.
“And you don’t know where it’s being streamed from?” This seems like
an open and close case, why the hell were we dragged in?
“We’re getting locations pinpointed. Problem with the shit on the dark
web is signals are jammed and ping-ponged all over the place. Every time
we get a lock, it comes up empty.”
“Okay. Where do you want us?” Cathy asks, ever the diligent team
player.
“Connor and Simon can show you the rest of the files we have. We
didn’t send everything over to your office, so you’ll need to catch up. I’m
going to check in with the computer geeks—see if they have anything for us
yet.”
“Here’s everything.” Connor sweeps his hand over three boxes on the
tables as Pierce leaves the room.
“How long has this case been going?” Cathy asks, lifting the lid off the
first box.
“Abigail is the sixth girl,” Simon answers, rolling his neck to the side.
“And none of them have been found?” I ask.
“They disappear from the site eventually, but no, no bodies yet,”
Connor says.
“Six kidnapping cases? Why haven’t the feds been called in?” I look
between the two of them. The blasé approach they’re taking to the details
makes me think they’re burnt out. Seems like they’d want the case thrown
over to the bureau.
“We don’t know they’ve been abducted.” Connor’s tone is hard,
defensive. “Far as we know, they ran away from home and found work the
only way they could. On their backs.”
My distaste for Connor immediately ramps up to the red zone.
“The other girls, they haven’t popped up anywhere else. Once these sick
assholes are done playing with them, they’re getting rid of them. This girl is
the latest. If we can find her before they tire of her—great. Otherwise, we’ll
be starting all over with the next girl.” Simon steps closer to Connor.
“All the girls have missing persons reports I assume?” Cathy asks.
“It’s all in the case files.” Connor pats my shoulder. “I’m getting some
breakfast, be back in an hour or so.” He jerks his head toward Simon, and
they both head out.
I raise my brow at Cathy. “Think they even give a shit about these
girls?” I ask her.
Her lips press into a thin line. “Well, if they don’t. We do. Let’s do our
job.” She pulls out several file folders and spreads them out in front of her.
“You know Richards only sent us here to get rid of us.”
“Probably.” She shakes out of her navy blazer and hangs it off the back
of her chair. Her hair is wound tight into a bun at the base of her neck. She’s
all business, all the time. “But I’m not giving him the satisfaction just yet.”
“Hand me a box.” I drop into a chair. Who knows, maybe we’ll actually
make a difference.

WE’VE POURED over every file and report and have no more information
than when we started. The girls just vanished. No witnesses, no ransom
demands—not that I expected any. The girls just poofed into thin air.
The ones who stopped streaming on Dolls for Hire can be counted out
as dead. On that, Cathy and I agree. A body might spring up sometime in
the future, but until then, there’s no point chasing our tails. But Abigail is
still playing online.
There’s still time for her.
Freeze frames from sessions show horrific conditions. The guys in the
computer lab have been able to download the transcripts from the chats.
Men pay top dollar to see her punished, raped, beaten, and strung up for
their viewing pleasure. Even if we find her, there isn’t going to be much of
her left. Her eyes are vacant in the latest photos.
“A girl like this, young, has a career ahead of her—she goes missing
and no one questions it?” Cathy tosses a folder onto the table. It’s well past
five o’clock, and the others have gone home for the night.
“Her parents filed the report,” I remind her.
Her lips scrunch up. “They filed the report after a week. She was
supposed to meet them for dinner, never showed, then waited a week to
report her missing.”
“Maybe they weren’t worried. Adult daughters, they have lives of their
own.”
She settles a death glare on me. “You want to get on my ass about Sarah
now?”
“I’m just saying. You’ve gone a week without hearing from her and you
didn’t call the cops,” I point out, tossing the last file back into the box. My
eyes burn from the images. I’ll never be able to scrub it all out of my brain.
“If Sarah was supposed to show up to meet me and didn’t, I’d go find
her. I wouldn’t wait a week to hear from her.” Cathy plops down in the
chair and stretches her arms over her head. The day has been exhausting.
And pointless. None of this is going to help us find Abigail or the assholes
running Dolls for Hire.
“Hey, good, someone’s still here.” Todd from the tech department walks
into the room, a tablet in his hands. “They’re streaming again.” He places
the tablet on the table in front of us, hits the screen, and the video comes to
life.
“It’s Abigail,” Cathy says, concern weighing in her tone. “What’s that?”
She points to the screen.
“That’s the chat. Right now, it’s just people logging in. I got into the site
and set up a notification to ping me when a new session starts.”
“Pierce didn’t mention that.” I stare at the screen, bracing myself for
what’s coming. Abigail’s been painted again, lips rose red, bright pink blush
on her cheeks, heavy eyelashes glued to eyelids. Her dress is clean, white
lace, and pink ribbons that match the grossly large bow on top her head
adorn her hair. Her eyes move from side to side while she remains
statuesque.
Todd points to the screen. The chat room is getting lively. “They’re
putting in bids. Once the head guy calls the highest bidder’s handle,
whatever that person wants to happen to Dolly will.”
“Dolly?” I look up at him. “Is that what they call her?”
“Yeah. Any girl they stream gets that name.”
“How many of these sessions have you watched?” Cathy asks softly.
The pictures alone have left our lunch and dinners untouched in the takeout
containers they were brought in.
“Too many,” Todd says with a frown. “But I got a solid hit this time on
a location.” He minimizes the streaming screen and brings up a map. A red
dot blinks at me.
“We should call Pierce.” Cathy already has her phone in her hands.
I swipe my fingers over the screen to enlarge the map. “This is two
counties over. We need to call the PD for Skokie too.”
“Yes, sir. No…I’m aware…it’s just…” Cathy gives me a wild-eyed
look. “Todd has a hit on the location. We need to call over to—I’m sorry,
what?” She scowls.
It’s tempting to pull the phone from her and get on the call myself, but
she can handle herself.
“Yes, I’ll send the address to you right now.” She ends the call and
heaves an annoyed sigh. I’ve heard her do that after a long call with her
daughter where nothing Cathy said got through to her.
“What?” I ask.
Crackling, then soft thumps, like a microphone being adjusted, come
from the computer.
“They started.” Todd moves the map to the side of the screen, and
Abigail fills the other half.
Her white tights are dirty at the knees, and her lipstick is smeared. I’m
pretty sure I know how they started the show.
“Got dirty already,” a husky voice says from behind the camera. “That’s
okay, you have to take them off anyway. Deadmanlove33 has won tonight’s
bid, and he wants to see Dolly shaved. Go on now, be a good girl and take
off the tights and lift up your dress. We’ll get your pussy nice and clean for
Deadmanlove33.”
“What the fuck?” Cathy gasps.
A straight razor is put in front of the camera. It’s old, well-worn, and
doesn’t look like it’s been sharpened in a while.
“It might take a few tries, but we’ll get there.” The creep cackles into
the camera.
“That blade will rip her up.” Cathy jerks her finger toward the screen.
“What did Pierce say?” I turn away from the screen. The pinged
location isn’t far away, but we have to move now if we have any hope of
getting there before she’s hurt too badly.
“He said he’ll call the other precinct.”
“And us?” I press.
“He’ll text me when he wants us to go.”
“What about Connor and Simon?” I urge. Why is no one hurrying their
asses with this?
“He didn’t say. Just said it’ll probably lead to nothing and not to get our
hopes up.” Cathy glances back at the screen.
Abigail has already taken off her shiny black Mary Janes and is rolling
down her tights.
I rake my hands through my hair. If we do what we’re told, Abigail
stays in danger, but our careers remain safe.
I look at Cathy. Her eyes are wide, and her lips are pinched together so
tight, they’re losing color. Just like me, adrenaline pumps through her veins.
She knows our choices as well as I do.
“If we wait—”
“It’ll be too late,” Cathy finishes my thought. “Todd, can you keep
tracking the location, make sure it doesn’t bounce?”
Todd nods. “Yeah, it’s giving me a steady signal now. It’s not moving.”
I grab a paper from the table and scribble my phone number on it. “If
anything changes, you call me right away.” I shove the paper at him.
“Yeah, of course.” He takes it.
“Dolly, don’t cry, baby girl. It’s all right. Just spread your legs a little
wider and pick up your dress. We don’t want to get any stains on it, now do
we?” the voice fills the room as I march toward the door. Cathy grabs her
blazer, hot on my trail.

OceanofPDF.com
SEVEN

OceanofPDF.com
KENDOLL

M y eyes flutter open. The bright light blinds me, and I turn my face
away from it. A quick tug, and I realize my arms aren’t mobile. I’m
tied down, but…no, that’s not right. I’m upright.
“Ah, KenDoll is waking up,” a deep voice says, and a cold tremor runs
over my body.
My eyes fly open and land on his face. He’s standing in front of me, but
lower. I’m on a platform, tied with my hands over my head, my feet spread
and cuffed to the wooden boards beneath my feet.
“Let me down!” I demand, struggling against the ropes. If I tug hard
enough, I’ll pull them from the ceiling, I’m sure of it.
A thin layer of sweat forms on my forehead as I struggle. The bearded
man doesn’t stop me, just watches with amusement as though he’s curious
whether I can get down or not.
“You’re wasting so much energy.” He shakes his head. “The viewers are
logging in. We’re going to start soon.” He pats my thigh.
I squint, trying to shield my eyes from the light, and find two cameras
pointed at me. One on a downward angle from the ceiling, and one directly
in front of me.
My chest aches, my muscles burn, but I struggle harder. I have to get
down.
Beardman, as Dolly calls him, gives me his back as he checks the screen
on the laptop in the corner. He chuckles, a low, disgusting sound.
“I’m going to fucking kill you,” I mutter as his shoulders shake with
laughter. It’s not an empty threat. If killing him gets me out of this place,
he’s going to die.
“What was that?” he asks, like I’ve interrupted his thoughts.
“I’m going to kill you,” I tell him plainly. My heart is in my throat,
pumping fear through the rest of my body, but that fact doesn’t change. He
will die at my hand.
He turns from the screen, his bushy eyebrows raised high. “Well, I’m
sure we have a viewership for that too. But tonight, Queenhearts won the
bidding.” He walks over to the closet and pulls out a small duffle bag.
My eyes fixate on the bag as he walks it back toward me where a small
table is set up. He opens it and lays out several devices. None look familiar.
Except one.
“No!” The ropes burn and bite my skin, but I don’t stop tugging and
twisting. “Don’t fucking touch me!” I jerk my legs, but with my feet
tethered to the platform, it only serves as entertainment for him and his
viewers.
Loud pings come from the computer, and he laughs again.
“You’re doing good, KenDoll. Keep it up.” He begins to assemble the
machine, and no amount of my weight being thrown downward is getting
my ropes loose.
No, no, no, no. My mind races and spins, but I can’t get a single thought
to stick. My eyes keep returning to the device, the crank, the battery. I have
to think.
Think.
Think.
Think.
There has to be a way out of this. I can’t let this happen.
This won’t happen!
Fuck!
He’s got it all assembled and placed on the table he wheels to the right
of me.
“Don’t you fucking touch me!” I scream, my throat hoarse. How many
times have we starred in this play? My lines should change; the plot should
be different.
More pinging from the computer.
“They love you,” he whispers with pride as he runs his hand up my
thigh to my cock. He wraps his warm hand around me and starts to stroke.
I twist my pelvis away from him, trying to get out of his grip, but he’s
already having too much fun to let me go. He twists and pulls until my body
betrays my mind.
“Nice and stiff.” He grins up at me. His teeth are obscenely white
against the black of his beard. I’m either going to shit on the platform or
vomit on his face. I can’t tell which because my body isn’t listening to me
anymore.
“Stop!” I scream and wrangle my hips as he continues pumping my
hard cock.
“There. Keep your cock hard for the ladies, or we’ll have to work on it
again,” he says, and my stomach cringes.
He worked on it before. Over and over again, he zapped me with his
fucking prod until my dick stopped losing its erection. The scabs on my
back throb at the reminder. If my cock goes soft now, he’ll get the prod
back out.
A tear runs down my cheek, mingling with the sweat from the lights.
More pinging.
Fuck them all!
He releases my cock and maneuvers around the platform. My arms are
dragged forward. I’m on a fucking pulley system. He doesn’t stop until I’m
bent over at the waist. A cord is snapped onto the thick band around my
chest, then to a ring on the platform between my feet. I can’t get up, and the
burn in my shoulders warns me not to struggle so hard.
“Perfect.” He pats my ass. “Keep that dick hard.” He strokes me again a
few times to pump me back up.
“I’m going to rip out your fucking throat!” I scream. Words are my only
weapons.
I’m completely unarmed.
A metal ring is pressed against my lips, and I turn my head. I won’t do
it. I won’t allow it.
“Open, pretty boy.” He reaches below me and pinches my nipple until I
comply.
How does he play me so well? He knows where to touch, prod, and
poke to get my obedience. I’m going to enjoy ripping his heart out.
He slides the metal ring in my mouth, keeping my jaw pried open as he
buckles the strap behind my head.
“There.” He sticks his thumb over my tongue and down farther into my
throat. I gag, lurching forward, ready for all the acid in my stomach to make
its way out, but he pulls back before that happens. “Good reflex.”
More pinging from the computer.
“Okay, ladies. Here we go. Lube or no lube? Highest bidder decides.”
I whip my head toward the computer, willing my eyes to see the little
windows flying open. It’s no use. Just dings and pings and his laughter.
“Queenhearts wins again. One thousand dollars—no lube!” he calls out,
moving behind me.
The thick dildo on the rod behind my ass is pressed between my cheeks.
An electric fucking machine. No lube.
I begin to fight, twisting and turning, tugging. Ignoring the pain bursting
through every muscle, I wage a war against my binds.
And fail.
His hands pry open my ass cheeks.
I’m splitting in two, being ripped apart. I can’t hold back the sob as the
dildo lodges completely inside me. Fire erupts, my vision blacks out, but
I’m not given a moment to adjust or absorb it. The machine is turned on,
and I’m being fucked by it from behind.
No! NO! NO! I can’t stand it. I won’t survive this. Being prodded and
beaten bruises my mind, but this total violation, this utter degradation,
scrapes out my insides. I’ll never be whole again.
Over and over, the dildo goes in and out. No matter how much I
struggle, it continues.
The pings get faster.
“They’re loving their KenDoll tonight,” he says, tweaking my still-hard
cock.
“Now, for the last part.”
Beardman stands in front of me, gripping my hair until I’m facing his
groin. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt and shoves down his dirty
jeans.
His short, fat, veiny cock emerges from his pants.
I’m going to kill this fucker.
I’m going to kill him.
Kill him.
Kill him.

OceanofPDF.com
EIGHT

OceanofPDF.com
BRIAN

“S o, what happened with the mayor’s daughter?” Cathy asks as I


accelerate onto the highway.
“It was the deputy mayor’s daughter,” I correct her with a side glance.
“And you want to talk about that now?”
She throws her foot over her knee. “We have at least twenty minutes till
we get there, and I could use the distraction.”
I get what she means. We aren’t exactly headed toward tea with the
queen. We may not know what we’ll find when we get there, but we know
it’s going to keep us up at night for months.
“Ella Romero was seventeen. She told me she was twenty-one, and she
looked every bit of it. We were at a bar for shit’s sake.” I curse at the
slowpoke in front of me and merge to pass. “With all her makeup and the
outfit she had on, I swear, she looked of age.”
“You won’t get an argument from me.” She puts her hands up in the air.
“I made Sarah change her clothes more than once when she was in high
school. I can’t tell you how many Saturday nights that girl was trying to
walk out of my house looking like she just graduated college.”
“Exactly.” I point a finger. “Well, she was all over me—you know how
it is.”
She gives me a hard eyeroll. “Yeah, I know, you’re a big stud.”
“Right. So, we had a few drinks, then she asked if I could drive her
home. Her friends had partnered up for the night. I’m not leaving anyone
stranded, so I said sure.”
“Hoping by drive her home she means do the horizontal hustle in her
bed.”
I shoot her an incredulous look. “Who the hell talks that way?” I laugh.
She waves a hand. “Never mind. Go on.”
“Any changes from Todd?” I ask, gesturing toward her phone in her lap.
“No. Still the same place. Now, go on.”
She must really need the distraction. This story circulated the station for
a month. No way she hasn’t already heard it.
“So, I drove her home.”
“And?” she presses.
“And her fucking father comes out of the house waving his damn hands
in the air yelling about where the hell she’d been. And then he saw me in
the car.”
“And your lovable face is so memorable,” she adds.
“Yes. He recognized me. And when he smelled the liquor on her breath,
he didn’t even bother to listen to anything I said. It didn’t matter that she
looked at least twenty-three. She was seventeen, and my career was in the
shitter.”
“Yeah, that’d do it. You’re lucky he didn’t take your badge for serving a
minor.”
“I didn’t buy her a single drink. She had a tab going at the bar with her
daddy’s credit card. Stupid girl.”
Cathy snorts. A shitty story doesn’t deserve much laughter. Especially
since she’s probably off on a European cruise for spring break while I’m
paying the penance for Ella’s life decisions.
“Okay, take the next exit.” Cathy straightens up in her seat. “It’s a mile
and a half from the exit.”
“In a residential area?” Could these assclowns be so bold as to use a
house in the middle of suburbia?
“No, industrial.” She opens her screen wider. “Looks like warehouses,
office buildings, that sort of thing.”
“Any word from Pierce?”
“Not a peep. Maybe he decided to go without us,” she says.
I take the exit faster than the recommended speed limit.
“Go right,” Cathy navigates for me.
“If I was going to have an underground porn ring, this would be the
place to do it,” I say as I take another turn. The buildings are rundown,
abandoned.
“The airport wants to expand its runways. They’ve bought most of this
land already. There are just a few holdouts,” Cathy explains.
“Call Todd and have him track down the owner of the building.” I slow
the car to a roll as we pull in front of the blinking dot. “A print shop.” I park
the car across the street. “Where the fuck is everyone?” There’s not a cop in
sight. The PD should already be here.
“Pierce says backup’s arriving in ten minutes.”
“Fucking hell. You talked to him almost half an hour ago!” A light
flickers from the building, and I cut off my headlights.
“Ten minutes isn’t bad. We’ll wait,” she says.
I blow out my frustration. Images of that girl burn into my brain,
playing on a fucking loop. The cuts, the bruises…
“That sick fuck had a razor blade, Cathy. He was going to skin her.” I
turn off the ignition.
“What are you doing?” she asks, but I’m already out of the car.
Her hurried footsteps trail behind me as I make my way to the main
entrance.
“We should wait.”
“They should have been here,” I growl, pulling my gun from my hip as
I try the door.
Locked.
’Cause that would make it too easy.
Keeping close to the building and avoiding the high windows, we make
our way around to the back. A loading dock with one truck nestled in the
bay. I signal for Cathy to follow me to the open truck door. We climb in,
and hot air blows into the cargo hold. I cover my mouth with my sleeve as
Cathy coughs behind me. The back door is rolled up, giving view to the
inside of the warehouse. Bare, dark, except for a single bulb swinging
several feet from the truck.
“Brian, I can’t breathe.” Cathy coughs again, tugging on my jacket. We
shouldn’t be here. We should have waited.
“I smell fruit loops,” I say, stumbling forward. I shove at her, miss, and
go down to my knees. She’s next to me, coughing and muttering.
“What?” I ask, my voice slurred. Or she’s slurred.
Everything’s wavy and moving.
“Are we moving?”
“I’m so…I can’t…” Cathy collapses in front of me, and I bend lower to
check on her, but everything’s dark, and my mind slips away from me.

A HARD COUGH breaks against my ribs, and I wake with a start. Sucking
in clean air, I gasp for more.
“Ah, good. Finally fucking awake,” a dark voice chides me.
I blink, trying to clear my vision, but it’s all foggy. My head isn’t any
clearer as I focus on the voices.
“Give him another minute. It took a hell of a lot more gas to get him to
go down than the girl,” another voice says.
The girl.
Cathy.
I lift my head from the ground.
“Cathy.” My voice is scratchy and hurts my throat.
“She’s here, don’t worry,” the first voice says. A sharp smack against
flesh draws my attention. We’re in a large room. The walls are white,
pristine, but the floor has no coverings. I’m lying on cold concrete, Cathy
draped over a bench to my left. She’s naked.
“Cathy!” I try to get to her, but my muscles give out, and I crumble
down again.
Muffled cries sound from her direction.
“She can’t talk right now,” the second voice explains, and another
smack resounds from him hitting her bare ass.
A deep red welt crosses her ass cheeks, matching on her thighs. Lighter
marks trail up and down her thighs and ass. They’ve been beating her.
Rage makes my muscles work. I stumble forward, only to have a boot
land in my stomach. I roll to my side, wrapping my arms around my
middle.
The cold floor seeps into my skin as I suck in as much air as my body
will allow until the pain subsides. Boots scratch along the concrete until
they appear before my face.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” the first voice says, his tone hard and
angry. “You don’t listen to directions though, do you?” He nudges my
shoulder with his toe.
I jerk away from him, shaking my head. Whatever they used to knock
us out is clogging my thoughts.
“Cathy, are you all right?” I call to her, ignoring the asshole for a
minute.
“She’s doing just fine, aren’t you, sweetheart?” the second voice says
with so much saccharine, I chance looking at her.
He’s rubbing her head with his hand while smothering her face into his
groin.
“You fucker!” I lurch for her, but that fucking boot knocks me down
again.
Panicked sounds erupt from behind Cathy’s gag as she strains against
the ties holding her down.
“Leave her alone!” I scream, but it comes out garbled. Fuck.
“Let’s go, lover boy.” Strong arms tuck under my pits before I’m hauled
to my feet. Pulling forward is useless with the drugs still in my system. I
can’t get away from him.
“Bossman, his cock isn’t ready.” Disappointment underlies the second
man’s complaint.
“Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.” I’m tugged forward, my bare feet scraping
against the ground.
Air licks at my skin. All of my skin. My cock lies limp and exposed,
just like the rest of me.
Bossman drags me to Cathy and tosses me like a rag doll over her ass.
My hands slam onto the bench, and my pelvis hits her beaten ass. The
impact makes her squeal.
“Get your cock hard, boy,” Bossman orders, but he might as well have
told me to introduce him to God.
“I…no…” I push off the bench, trying to scramble off Cathy as a boot
kicks into my ass. My cock lurches between her ass cheeks. I’m limp, but
my cock pushes between her ass cheeks, like a smooshed hotdog inside a
bun.
She goes rigid beneath me, her ass cheeks clenching around me.
They want me to fuck her.
Oh god.
“Brian!” Cathy cries out as soon as her tormentor rips the gag from her
mouth.
“See, now she can scream for you. Get your cock ready.” Electricity
zaps my back, and I jump. “Stroke yourself,” he orders, and another shock
shoots through me.
“Fuck! Stop!” I turn, but he’s there, zapping and shocking me until I’m
finally firm on my feet.
“Go on!” He aims the prod at my stomach, and I twist away just before
the shock touches skin.
“Okay!” I put my hand out to ward him off and use my left hand to grab
my dick. Nothing is going to wake my cock up, not with Cathy crying and
the pain coursing through my body.
“That’s it. Good boy. Once you’re ready, you’re going to fuck her ass.”
He moves in front of me, and I finally get a clear view of his face. Round,
perfectly round, with fat pushing his eyelids nearly closed.
“I’m not…no!”
“Sure, you are,” the bearded man says in that sweet tone of his. The air
burns my lungs.
Bearded man points a gun at Cathy.
“Wait. No.” I jerk my cock, harder, faster. Please! Please get hard!
He smacks her again and again with the knotted rope in his hand,
lashing at her back.
“Stop it!” I scramble forward again, and a jolt of electricity burns into
my thigh, paralyzing the muscles. “Fuck!”
“Better hurry up,” the bearded man says, pulling the hammer back.
Cathy’s head jerks up at the sound.
“Brian. It’s okay…it’s okay, just do it. It’s okay.” Fear drips from her
plea.
My cock starts to react, and I stand behind her.
“Cathy.” I beg for anyone to make this stop. My cock softens again, but
I tug harder. I clench my eyes, shutting off the view of her beaten ass. She
whimpers softly, and I shake my head, trying to clear it. My heart beats
harder. A bead of sweat rolls down my temple. Panic grips my throat, but I
jerk harder and harder. A broken sob breaks loose, and it takes a full second
for me to realize it’s coming from me. My cock slacks again.
“Go on.” Another shock to my back, and I ball my hands into fists,
punching the bench beneath Cathy.
“Brian. Listen.” She sniffles. “It’s okay. Do it. Do what they say.”
I blink back helpless tears. I have a fucking badge. I have a gun. I have
a brown belt for fuck’s sake. How is this happening?
Searing electricity bursts across my side. That fucking prod.
“Okay!” I spit on my hand, then work the saliva over my cock.
Cathy’s body stiffens in preparation for the invasion.
“Go on.” He stands behind me, his chin resting on my shoulder. Thick
cigar stench covers him, and he hasn’t brushed his teeth in a decade.
I spread her ass cheeks, and her dark ring of muscle clenches.
“Cathy…please…unclench,” I whisper. Make it easy, please god, make
this easy. But I haven’t believed in God for years. And my lack of worship
is earning a penalty.
She screams as I push through the tight ring, and every muscle in my
body stiffens. Fuck!
“Breathe, Cathy. Just breathe.” I try to work her through it, but my spit
isn’t nearly enough lubrication. And as far as I know, she hasn’t been with a
man in years.
“Go ahead!” The prod strikes again, sending more scorching pain into
my side.
I’m forced forward, and my cock shoves past the tight ring of Cathy’s
asshole.
The shrill of her scream will never leave my memory.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Huh. Look at that. He actually did it.” The bearded man laughs.
A shot rings out, taking away all sound from the room. I fall backwards
onto my ass as blood splatters across my chest. It pools to the ground, and I
blink, following the thick crimson trail to the source.
“Cathy!”
Her body is limp over the bench, blood spilling beneath her.
“I did what you wanted!” I scream, scrambling to my feet, slipping on
her blood in the process.
Bossman stands over me, a cloth in his hand.
“I know. But we already have a dolly. And now we have a KenDoll. It’s
been a while since we’ve had one of those.”
I’m shoved back to the ground as the cloth smothers me until the fog
returns and my vision blurs into nothing.
OceanofPDF.com
NINE

OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY

A nother hotdog.
I press my finger into it on the metal tray. Cold.
“You have to eat to keep your strength up,” Ken says to me from his
cell.
He’s leaning against the wall, watching me from between the bars. I
don’t mind when he stares at me. It’s not creepy and scary like when
Beardman and Bossman do it. Because Ken won’t hurt me. He’s always
checking on me. When Beardman brings me back to my cell, Ken doesn’t
make me tell him what happened. He just tells me to make sure I wash the
cuts the next time they bring us some water.
“Did you get one?” I ask, scooting toward the door so I can see into his
cell.
“Yeah. I ate it already. It’s your turn.” He points to the tray. “Eat.”
He’s bossy sometimes. Beardman hasn’t taken him upstairs in a few
days. He gets bossier the longer they leave him alone. I think he’s trying to
come up with a plan.
I pick up the hotdog and take a small bite. My stomach rolls as soon as I
swallow it, but I get the rest of it down. As gross as it is, I could eat three
more of them if they were on the tray.
“Ken, they haven’t come for you in a few days. That means…” I don’t
finish my though. It pulls my heart deeper inside my chest. Every time they
take him, he comes back with bigger welts. He’s not giving into them the
way he should. He fights them and doesn’t do what they want until they
force him.
He’s not as smart as me.
“I know.” He stretches his arms across his chest. “It’s okay. I’m ready.”
“You shouldn’t fight them. They hurt you so bad.”
He levels a stare on me. “The longer they keep me upstairs, the longer
you stay down here,” he tells me.
“You don’t have to do that.” I push up to my feet. The concrete is still
cold, but they let me keep the dress on the last time they had me in front of
the cameras.
“Tell me something you remember from before.” He changes the
subject. He told me the more we try to remember about before we were
brought here, the stronger our minds will be. Sometimes my mind is clear
and I can remember fun things, but a lot of times, I’m in a fog.
“Like what?” I’m not muddled today.
“You still haven’t told me how you got here.”
I frown. “Let’s talk about something else.” I sit on my cot and curl into
myself.
“It will help. If you can remember anything about the building, about
where you were brought in,” he says. Ken thinks we can escape, but he
hasn’t been here as long as I have. He doesn’t understand there’s no way
out.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I bury my face in my knees, hugging
them closer to me. It’s warmer in my cell than before. Does that mean it’s
warmer outside? If I could get a grasp on time, the days wouldn’t feel so
endless. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hopeless.
“You have to keep your mind sharp,” he urges me, but I’m tired again.
The nothingness of the days exhausts me.
“Let’s play a game instead,” I suggest. “Twenty questions.”
He sighs. I’ve disappointed him. Not something new for me.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. It’s okay,” he says, but the exasperation is in his tone. “Tell me
about something else—” He cuts off as the door creaks open.
“You two aren’t getting any ideas about being friends, are you?”
Beardman clinks his keys against the bars of my cell door. “’Cause that’d
be a bad idea.”
I peek through my arms at Ken. He’s backed away from the door, his
hands pumping at his sides. He won’t talk to Beardman unless he has to, but
he’s getting ready to fight him if he opens the door. They make it worse if
we fight, doesn’t he understand that?
“This is for you.” Beardman opens my door and drops a garment bag on
the floor. “Put that on. There’s a special request upstairs waiting on you.”
My throat clenches, but I scoot off my cot and pick up the bag.
Unzipping the front of it, layers of lace fall forward. Another dress with all
the frills.
“Shit.” Beardman digs through his pocket and pulls out a cell phone.
My eyes lock on the phone. Maybe Ken’s right. Maybe we can find a way
out of here. Beardman jerks his hand at me when he catches me watching
him while he’s talking.
I pull the dress out of the bag and lay it on the cot. It’s not fair that Ken
doesn’t get one and I do, but he already said it wouldn’t matter any to him.
He’d rather I had it.
“Get dressed, and don’t get it fucking dirty. I’ll be right back.”
Beardman slams my cell door shut and locks it before he scuttles back to
the stairwell, muttering curses under his breath.
“What did he mean special request?” Ken asks me, coming forward in
his cell again.
I work the buttons on my dress open and slip it over my head. I’ve
never had such little privacy before. Even on the bad days, I wasn’t so
exposed. But now, everyone has seen me at all stages of dress, and never
with my consent.
“What did he mean?” Ken asks me again because I didn’t answer. It’s
going to make him tense if I explain what’ll happen when I go upstairs. And
I don’t want to worry him. I’ve already disappointed him by not telling him
what he wanted to know.
“A special request is when a bidder gets to be in the room with me.” I
drag the new dress over my head. The tooling is rough against my tender
skin as it glides over my ass, but I’m sure it won’t be on long once I get
upstairs.
Ken’s knuckles go white from gripping the bars. “They’re just there,” he
prompts.
I pull out the ribbon from my right pigtail and palm it while I work my
messy hair into a braid. Without a brush, I can’t make it as neat as they’ll
want, but if I braid it tight, maybe I won’t have to bend over the punishment
bench before we start.
“Do they touch you? Hurt you?” He pushes for answers he doesn’t want
but can’t help but ask.
I raise my gaze to meet his and nod. Talking about what they do doesn’t
make it better or take away the damage.
“This is the way it is here.” I bring the satin blue sash around my middle
and tie it into a perfect bow at my side.
“It doesn’t have to be. You have to believe we’ll get out of here. I will
get us out of here.” Ken’s said this before, and I know he believes it. But
Bossman told me at the beginning good girls get to go home, and no matter
what I did, he didn’t let me go. He’s never going to let me go. Now, Ken’s
stuck here too.
“Maybe we did something so awful, this is our punishment for it,” I say,
smoothing the skirt of my dress down. They didn’t bring me stockings or
shoes this time. The stockings are hard to get on, but they help keep the
tooling from scratching my legs. “Maybe it would be better if I didn’t listen
to them and made them kill me.”
“No. Don’t say that.” His voice hardens, but it doesn’t make my insides
shake like when Bossman yells at me. Ken doesn’t want things from me. He
still holds onto hope this is just a phase in our lives.
But he doesn’t know everything.
“Dolly, look at me. Look at me right now.” He’s back to being bossy.
He’s already upset, and I don’t want to make things worse, so I meet his
gaze.
“You can’t give up hope, okay? I know it seems hopeless, but it’s not.
Remember how I told you about my job? They are going to find us. We will
get out of here.”
I smile. Because he seems to want a reaction, and he likes it when I
smile.
“Promise me you won’t give up. You won’t leave me here all alone.”
The determination in his voice warms me from the inside. It’s not angry and
cold like the others. And even when he’s being bossy and making me eat
cold hot dogs, I can sense the good in him. He’s not evil like the others.
A promise is a vow, and vows can never be broken.
The door opens again. Beardman’s keys jangle.
“Dolly.” Ken’s eyes are fixated on me, his jaw tense.
“I promise.” I nod quickly as Beardman comes into view.
“Good girl, all dressed up for your date.” The key grates on my senses
as he slips it into the lock. A high-pitched screech of the hinges grinding
together hurt my ears, but I keep my expression schooled. No emotions.
Dolly’s don’t have emotions.
And no matter what Ken says, that’s what I am now.
I’m just a dolly.

OceanofPDF.com
TEN

OceanofPDF.com
KENDOLL

D olly’s been asleep too long.


Beardman brought her back unconscious and battle worn. What if
they gave her too much of whatever drug they keep forcing into us? It’s
going to take her half a day to get her memories back, maybe longer. I need
her mind sharp if we’re going to find a way out of here.
I’m staring at her like an obsessed fool, because I am. This shouldn’t be
happening to her. She should be safe by now. Cathy should be home with
her daughter.
I rub my temples. Who the hell knows what they did with Cathy after
they knocked me out. Was her body found?
Did Pierce ever show up? Would they keep looking if they found
nothing?
I have to shelve the questions. My stomach twists into knots. I don’t
have any answers, and I can’t do a fucking thing about any of this locked in
this goddamn cell.
I grip the bars again and try to rouse Dolly.
“Dolly, Dolly, you awake?”
She groans, rolling to her back. They took the dress from her this time,
leaving her naked on the concrete floor. Dark purple welts cross her ass and
thighs. Thin raised welts cross over her back. The fuckers broke skin. She
needs to keep it clean or she could get an infection. And down here, I doubt
these assholes will bother helping if she does.
Flat on her back, angry slashes covering her breasts and torso come into
view.
My teeth grind as I take in all of the bruising and cuts over her body.
They used her as a fucking piñata.
“Go slow. It’s going to hurt for a while.” These fucking bars! If I could
get in her cell, I could help her. She turns her face toward me. Her lips are
swollen and red. They may have left her ass and pussy alone, but there’s a
third hole for them to abuse.
“Fuck, baby,” I groan, sinking down to my knees. “They left a bucket of
water. You have to clean yourself up. I know it hurts, take your time, but
you have to clean up.”
“I’m so sleepy,” she whispers, curling her knees up to her chest. Her
eyes close.
“Dolly, you have to wake up now. Drink some water, then clean
yourself with it.”
She nods and pushes herself up. Her wince of pain tears me in two.
“It’s cold,” she says, dipping her hand in the bucket.
“I know, but you have to clean up.” If I was there, I’d do it for her. I’d
lay her in my lap and tend to each welt. But I’m stuck over here, helpless.
She cups her hands and drinks several gulps of the water before she
starts washing herself. Every whimper cuts into my heart.
“That’s good. Almost done. Good girl,” I say, and immediately stiffen.
It’s what they tell her when she obeys. Fuck.
Her eyes flicker to me, her lips gently tugging into a smile.
“I’m sorry,” I say, pressing my forehead to the chilled bars. I’m not
helping.
“It’s nice when you say it,” she tells me as she finishes washing her
legs. She's dripping and there are no towels or material to dry off with.
“How’s your head?” I force my eyes off her body. Under the cuts and
bruises is her shapely figure. The last thing I need is for my body to
appreciate her too much.
“Not as foggy as before. I’m just sleepy.” The small springs in the cot
squeak when she sits on it. “I want to take another nap.”
“Okay, go ahead. They should bring food soon.” My stomach is empty
and crying for relief. It’s possible it’s my hope talking and not my
reasoning.
She lies down on the cot, draping her arm over her eyes. I watch as her
chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm.
“Ken,” she murmurs. She won’t call me by my real name, insisting she
stick to their rules—I can’t call her Abigail, and she can’t call me Brian.
The first time I said her name—her real name—she cried, scared they were
going to come down and hurt her. I haven’t tried since.
“Yeah?” I ease myself to the floor, crossing my legs and folding my
arms over my chest. Moving around will keep me warm, but I’m getting
tired.
“I kept my promise,” she whispers.
I find a glimmer of joy in her statement.
“I knew you would.”
“I won’t leave you here alone,” she says. “A promise is a vow.”
“That’s right.” I close my eyes, listening to the soft melody of her
breathing. She’s safe now—for a little while at least. I can’t touch her, but I
can feel her.
“Ken?” Her voice is small.
“Yeah?” I keep my eyes closed. A nap sounds like a good idea.
“I want to hurt them,” she confesses. “I want to hurt them for what they
did to me—what they do to you.” The cot creaks, and I open my eyes to see
her.
She’s on her stomach, her eyes wide and clear as she stares at me
through the bars. “I want them to die.”
I grin.
“I promise you, Dolly, they will.” Before I drag in my last breath,
Bossman and Beardman will burn in hell.

OceanofPDF.com
ELEVEN

OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY

I can never tell if it’s morning or night when I wake up. My sleep patterns
are all off. Did I sleep for an hour or an entire day? I never know.
When I first arrived, I tried to track the time. It was useless. Without the
sunlight helping me, I had no real clues. Time doesn’t move at the same
speed when you’re locked in a windowless void. A year could have passed
already, and I wouldn’t know. I could have missed my birthday.
It wouldn’t have been anything elaborate. A quick dinner with Mom and
Dad. But it would have been something. At least I would have known it was
my birthday. I would have proof I truly exist.
“Dolly?” Ken breaks the silence.
I roll over in my cot to look at him. There’s not much light since the
bulbs in our cells have blown out. The single bulb in the hallway casts dark
shadows, but I can at least make out his features.
“I’m awake.” I’ve been sleeping off and on since Beardman dumped me
back in my cell after my special request session. My back doesn’t ache
anymore, and the tenderness in my thighs is better than the last time I woke
up.
“There’s a box in your cell,” he points through the bars.
A large white box just inside the door.
“When did they bring that?” I ask, rolling off the cot. The cold floor
soaks into my feet as I make my way to the door.
“I don’t know. I didn’t hear anything.” He clears his throat and sniffs. “I
must have been sleeping pretty deep.”
Ken doesn’t sleep much, at least not when I’m awake. Maybe the cold
has gotten to him and he’s getting sick. They won’t care. They’ll make him
play their games anyway.
“What’s in it?” he asks as I open the box.
It’s filled with white tissue paper that I remove and put on the floor next
to the box. “Another dress with slippers,” I pull it out. “Oh.” I drop the
outfit and move another layer of tissue paper. “There are bottles of water
and muffins in here.” I grab a bottle and wave it in the air.
“Bottles?”
“Yeah…uh, four. And four muffins.” I take a bottle to the bars. “Here,
you take one.”
“Wait.” He puts his hand out. “Check the rest. Make sure there isn’t a
note or something.”
He’s always thinking of things like that, the little stuff. I remove the
water and prepackaged muffins, and there, at the bottom, a piece of paper is
taped to the inside of the box.
“You’re right,” I grin at him, then pluck up the note and read it to him.
“Eat and drink. You’ll need your energy. There’s an extra special request
tonight. Be sure to share with your friend. He’ll need it too.”
Ken frowns as I crouch at the bars.
“Both of us?” he asks, but answering him is pointless. He’s thinking
again, finding all the angles. I’ve never been good at detecting the bad side
of things. Even when it was right in front of me, betrayal staring me right in
the face, I still mistook it for love.
“You have to catch it. I can’t aim between your bars.” I stand, poised to
toss the first muffin toward him. He needs the food as much as I do. My
stomach stopped making all those nasty grumbling sounds a while ago, but
his hasn’t. He’s lost weight too. He tries to fight it by doing push-ups and
other exercises, but his stomach is getting flatter.
“Okay, just toss it as close to my door as you can and roll the bottles.”
He crouches behind the bars, his cock hanging between his legs, and it takes
me back for a second. I’ve seen his cock since they keep him naked, but I
never really looked at it before. Not like I am now. The Beardman has made
me kiss his, lick it and suck it, and I thought I’d never want to see another
one again in my life. But Ken’s is different. It’s not hard or threatening. I
don’t think he’d ever use it against me, ever make me feel anything other
than safe with him. Because even though he’s locked up in that cell, unable
to touch me, I can feel all his strength. I pull from it every day.
I’m a selfish dolly.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Here.” I toss the first muffin, and he reaches
out, catching it before it hits the ground. He misses the second and has to
reach further out to grab the corner of the wrapper and pull it close enough
to pick up.
The bottles roll to the side, but he gets them both and lines them up in
his cell beside the muffins. I tear into a package.
“Blueberry.” I smile. I love blueberry. It’s such a small thing, but it
makes the whole muffin better.
I bite into it as Ken turns his around in his hand, the plastic crinkling.
“It tastes good.” I pop the last bite into my mouth and have to swallow
hard to get it all down. My mouth waters for the second one. They haven’t
given me this much food at one time, and I’m not going to waste a single
crumb.
“I need you to listen to me now, okay?” He takes a bite of his muffin,
and the expression on his face sends an electric current through me. Bliss.
He’s happy.
“Good, right?” I ask with a grin.
“Delicious.” He takes another bite. “But you have to listen. I have an
idea.” He twists the white plastic cap off the water and takes several gulps
before he continues. “When Beardman comes down to take us upstairs, I’m
hoping he’ll take us both at the same time. If he does, you keep your eyes
on me. Do everything I tell you.”
I was right. He has a plan.
“If we try to fight him, they’ll make it worse.” I wasn’t smart when I
first got here, but I learned.
“If we do nothing, we’ll never get out of here.” He trains his eyes on
me. “We can’t just keep going along with them. We have to get out.”
“He’ll hurt you—”
“I won’t let him hurt you, I swear it. You just follow what I say, okay?”
His voice is hard, demanding.
“You’re bossier with a full stomach.” I frown.
He laughs, and it’s the sweetest melody I’ve ever heard.
“You haven’t seen anything yet. Now, be a good girl and do what I say,
okay?” Little crinkles crease his eyes as he smiles.
“Okay.” Getting to see him smile and hear more of his laugh is worth
whatever punishment they come up with.
I drink down the last of my second bottle of water and lean back against
the cold cinderblock wall, taking a deep breath. I can’t remember the last
time I felt so full.
And sleepy.
I rub the heels of my hands into my eyes.
“I should get dressed.” I push up from the ground and scoop up the
dress. Beardman could be down in ten minutes or three hours, but if I’m not
dressed, he’ll take the prod to my ass before we start the show. And the cuts
and welts from the last request have finally stopping itching.
“Dolly? Dolly.” Ken’s voice pulls my attention away from fumbling
with the sash. “Are you feeling okay?” His brow is wrinkled, and he’s lying
on the ground, staring up at me. The empty bottles are lined up neatly
outside his cell door, the muffin wrappers too.
“I’m just sleepy. I’m fine,” I say as my mind swirls. I blink a few times
and steady myself as best as I can to finish tying the bow
I reach down to pick up the slippers, but my head takes another turn,
and I stumble to the floor. The room spins, taking my stomach with it.
“Ken?” I try to twist so I can see him, but the little movement sends my
head into a tailspin again. “I’m going to close my eyes for a minute,” I tell
him, but he doesn’t respond. “Ken?” My lids weigh down. I’m a weak
dolly.
I don’t hear if he answers before the darkness embraces me.

OceanofPDF.com
TWELVE

OceanofPDF.com
KENDOLL

I gulp in a deep breath as my eyes flash open.


Where am I?
Movement is answered with failure. I’m bound again, upright. Not to
the pulleys, to a post. I drag in more air, clearing out whatever shit they
pumped into me with those muffins. They were so moist, so delicious, I’d
inhaled them.
“Finally,” a deep voice says, and I squint against the lights to see the
Beardman standing across the room.
The fucker. They drugged us to get us out of the cells easier.
Dolly!
A sweep of the room with my eyes, and I find her. She’s standing in the
corner, her back to me.
“Dolly.”
“She’ll be with you in a minute,” Beardman says, walking over to the
camera set up. He fiddles with the computer and lenses.
Bossman walks into the room, a shit-eating grin plastered on his fat
face. “Just about ready?” he asks, rubbing his hands together like he’s about
to sit down to his daily feast.
“Yeah, the feed’s ready to go live. Did you bring them?” Beardman
clicks a few more buttons.
“They chickened out, the little shits.” Disgust drips from Bossman’s
words. If the special request bidders didn’t show, will they still get to see
what they paid for?
I focus on Dolly. Her shoulders move up and down in a gentle rhythm.
She’s resigned to let these things happen to her. She’s not up for fighting
them anymore. But she won’t give up. She promised me, and she won’t let
me down. I’ll just have to be strong enough for us both until she’s able to
face all this head on.
“They still paid, so the show goes on, they just don’t get front row
seats.” His laugh, a dry cackle, rolls into a deep cough.
“Okay, Dolly. Showtime,” Beardman tells her, and her back stiffens.
“Come stand here in front of the camera.” She turns slowly, and I get a
good look at her face.
They’ve painted her more than usual. White powder covers her face.
Deep ruby lipstick is centered on her lips, giving her a puckered
appearance. Dark pink circles color her cheekbones.
“Dolly.” I need her attention on me, but she’s lost to their demands
while we’re in this room. Because in here, they’ll hurt her for fun, and even
more so for punishment.
I wriggle my wrists in the binds and find them looser than usual. If I
twist them enough, I might be able to yank out of the straps.
“And we’re live.” Beardman steps to the side, and the light on the
camera directly in front of Dolly lights up.
“Welcome back to Dolly for Hire!” Bossman speaks into a microphone
off camera. “Tonight, we have a special request from Queenhearts and
Dragonmate for both Dolly and Ken. It’s going to be a fun night, and we’ll
be taking bids for activities as we get closer to the end of the evening.
Remember, if you want to have full control over an evening with Dolly or
Ken, put in your request and your bid. You’ll be brought on set to watch
right here in studio as our dolls play for us.”
Cowards hide behind their computers, commenting and bidding. I can’t
see the words on the chat screen, but each ping tells me plenty of viewers
have arrived, anxiously awaiting whatever torment Queenhearts requested.
“Let’s begin. Dolly, if you’ll take your pretty dress off,” Bossman
orders, and Dolly’s fingers curl into a fist. “Dolly, your dress.”
Her hands disappear in front of her while she works the buttons open,
and the dress falls to her feet in a pool of lace and tulle. She steps out of the
skirt, completely naked to the viewers staring at her through the lens.
Her legs and back are healed from her last special requests, but the
markings are left behind. She’ll bear them for months before they fade…if
they fade.
“Look at these titties. So pretty.” Beardman steps to her side and
reaches toward her, groping her breast.
“Don’t touch her,” I growl. I haven’t gotten my wrists out yet.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
Bossman laughs. “They like his jealousy.”
Ping.
Ping.
“Keep going,” he orders, and Beardman continues. She releases a small
yelp, and Beardman’s lips crack into a wicked grin. His fat, dirty fingers
twist her nipples, pulling them toward him. Dolly cries out again when he
lets go. Her breasts bounce back, and his slimy tongue roams over his lips
as he reaches for her again.
“Stop it. Fucking stop.” I tug harder on my binds. Bossman is too busy
reading the comments to pay attention to me, and Beardman turns Dolly so
I can see her profile.
Beardman bends, taking Dolly’s nipple into his mouth. He pulls his lips
back, giving me a clear view of her nipple between his teeth.
Dolly whines, her hands shaking at her sides. He’s hurting her—and
smiling while he does it.
“That’s a good dolly,” Bossman coos, pushing a metal cart over to my
side. I tear my focus from Dolly, and my stomach drops—freefalls straight
to my feet.
Blades. Knives and scapula, all different lengths, sizes, shapes.
There’s a thick metal hook laying on the tray. A fishhook large enough
to hang a man from.
I swallow.
“That’s enough fun. Dolly, come here,” Bossman chastises her for
having her nipples bitten by the fucking savage. Beardman releases her, and
tiny drop of blood forms just below her areola. He broke fucking skin!
My pulse bangs in my ears, blocking out Bossman’s voice as he
addresses the camera. Something about Queenhearts has put in her final
orders. Beardman throws a sadistic grin my way as he pulls Dolly toward
the metal cart.
“This is going to be our highest viewed session ever,” he mutters,
positioning her in front of me.
“Dolly. Look at me, Dolly.” But she doesn’t. Her eyes cast downward,
and she tilts her head to focus on what Beardman is saying into her ear.
“Ken!” Bossman’s voice snaps. “Your cock isn’t ready for the show.”
He stomps over to us and smacks my flaccid dick. I grimace, but keep my
groan inside. I’m not playing into this fucking shitshow.
“Let Dolly help him this time,” Beardman says, bringing his gaze to
meet mine. “She’s so good at sucking cock. Let’s show the audience how
good she is at sucking him off.”
Bossman narrows his eyes for a split second, but the computer pings so
fast, they blend into one long electric sound. He leaves us to check the
monitor.
“That’s a big yes from the gallery. Dolly, get down on your knees.”
My gaze darts to Dolly. She tilts her head up to see me, her bottom lip
pinched between her teeth. Time drags to a near stop as she moves down to
one knee, then the other. Before I can suck in a breath, she’s kneeling before
me.
“See, just being near him is getting his cock working.”
I’m not sure which dead man says this, because I’m focused on Dolly,
focused on my traitorous dick, steel hard in front of her face. I can’t let her
do this. The first time she touches me will not be at the orders of those
assholes.
“No,” I command in the hardest tone I’ve ever used with her. Her wide
eyes snap up to mine, startled and unsure of what to do next.
I wiggle my left hand, folding it inward as much as possible, and yank.
“Suck his dick, Dolly. Or do I need to encourage you?”
My hand is free of the restraint, but they haven’t caught on to it yet.
Dolly frowns.
“No,” I tell her again, keeping my voice low and hard. She needs to
know who to listen to—and it’s me. Fucking hell, she will obey me.
My right hand is harder to work loose, but with a hard enough yank, I
get it out.
“Dolly. Now!” Bossman yells, moving toward us, the electric prod in
his hands.
Adrenaline and rage fuel my muscles as I lunge forward, knocking
Dolly to the ground before the prod can touch her. Grabbing it with both
hands, I wrench it free from Bossman, who is too stunned to react.
“What the—?” Bossman’s face flushes red. I flip around and shove the
prod toward him, pressing it against his fat, fuzzy face. The stench of
burning hair and flesh fills the room, second only to his scream.
“Bossman.” Beardman finally catches up to what’s happening. I kick
Bossman in his round belly, knocking him to the ground, his agony voiced
in strangled howls.
Switching the electricity to the highest point the prod can manage, I jab
Bossman’s stomach over and over again. He rolls from side to side, crying
out for mercy.
“Stop! Stop! Help! Stop!” he screams, clutching his middle and rolling
to his side away from me. He’s gasping for air when Beardman grabs my
shoulders. His dirty nails dig into my skin and pull me back.
With Bossman down for at least another minute, I spin on my heel and
point the prod at Beardman.
“Couldn’t wait your turn?” I ask, aiming for his face as the other fat
fuck whimpers behind me.
“You hurt me.” Dolly’s voice slips over Bossman’s whines.
I kick Beardman’s feet out from beneath him. With the prod fully
charged and aimed at his chest, I keep him down on his back. A quick look
around, I find a coil of rope and snag it.
“Get on your belly!” I kick Beardman in his side. He cries out, but
manages to flip over to his stomach after another hard kick to his ribs.
“So many times, you hurt me!” Dolly screams. I jam my knees into
Beardman’s back and work the rope around his wrists.
“Get off me!” Beardman wiggles beneath me. I take the prod from
where I tucked it beneath my arm and jam it into his neck. He screams,
jolting from the electricity running through him.
“Shut the fuck up.” I shove my knee into his back again and stand up.
I keep the prod aimed at Beardman in case he wants to try to get up, but
all he does is roll onto his back.
Dolly picks up a long knife from the tray and stands over Bossman.
“You hurt me so bad.” She’s not crying or shaking. No, she’s steady in her
resolve, her eyes focused on her prey.
Bossman stares up at her, his eyes wide with shock.
“You wanted me on my knees so many times.” She lowers herself to
kneel at his side. “Here. I’m on my knees for you! I’m on my fucking knees
for you! This is what you wanted, right?” She lowers her face over his and
bellows, “Right!”
“N-No. No, don’t do this. Don’t—” Bossman shakes his head.
With both hands wrapped around the thick wooden handle, she raises it
over her head.
“Now, I’m on my knees—just for you.” She plunges the knife into his
oversized belly, relishing in the shrill of his screams before pulling it out
and thrusting it back in, over and over.
Bossman buckles up at first, bending forward to protect his belly, but
she’s on a mission. The knife plows into his chest, and his face bursts into a
frozen projection of pain. When she pulls it back out, he collapses to the
floor. His hands grope for his stomach. A gurgled cry escapes as Dolly
shoves the blade into his stomach again and again.
“Dolly! Stop!” Beardman rolls toward her, and I jam the prod between
his shoulder blades. A shout falls from his lips as his body seizes.
Blood spurts from the wounds as Dolly continues to stab and withdraw,
stab and withdraw, turning him into her personal pin cushion.
Dolly stabs the knife into Bossman’s neck and releases it, falling back
on her heels. Her shoulders slump, and her hands fall to her sides, all the
adrenaline and fight fleeing from her at once.
Bossman’s eyes stare vacant toward the ceiling, his lifeforce pooling
around him like a sacrificial bath. Beardman whimpers on the floor at my
feet, blood streaming toward him. With his hands tied, he tries to scoot
away, but I jam my foot onto his chest.
“Where do you think you’re going?” I jab the prod into his chest and
hold down the button, shocking him until his eyes roll into the back of his
head as he passes out.
I ease myself onto my knees beside her, giving her a moment to get her
breathing under control.
“Dolly?” I say softly.
She turns to face me, blood splattered over her face, sitting in a pool of
red. A drop of it rolls down her cheek, and I catch it with my thumb as I
cradle her face in my hands. She’s so warm, so electric. Smearing the blood
over her already painted lips, I study her expression. Calm. She’s not
panicked or fearful.
“Dolly, baby, you did so good.” I inch closer to her face. Thoughts of
how she feels, smells, tastes, have invaded my mind since the moment I
first saw her. Finally, I won’t have to wonder anymore.
“You’re not mad? I didn’t wait for you.”
I grin. She’s so sweet, so innocent. “I’m not mad at all.” Her gaze
flickers to my mouth, and it’s the only signal I need from my girl.
Leaning down, I brush my lips over hers, taking on the sweet metallic
taste of the warm blood coating them. Her hands grip my shoulders, pulling
me closer, wanting more—needing more. I deepen our kiss, plunging my
tongue forward, dancing with hers in a tangle of beats and melodies only
our bodies understand.
So many days and nights, she was close, but not enough to touch, to
really feel her skin against mine. But now, I have her in my hands, her lips
pressed against mine, her tongue tasting me.
When I break the kiss, she touches her fingers to her lips. Concern
wrinkles her brow.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. She can’t be afraid what we’re doing is wrong.
Nothing has been so right.
“Beardman,” she whispers, and I’m drawn out of the luxury Dolly’s
touch. “He hurt you too. You should do it.” She pulls the knife from
Bossman’s throat and presses it into my hand.
“He hurt us both.” I wrap her fingers around mine on the handle. “We’ll
do it together. From now on, we do everything together.”
She stares at me for a long beat, hope entering her bright eyes. Her lips
tug into a smile. “Together.” She nods, and we turn to Beardman, who’s
starting to come back around.
“Look who’s back. Just in time.” I grab his arm and pull him closer to
us. He snaps his eyes open and turns to us, his gaze landing on the knife.
Panic erupts. His lips move faster than sound can come out.
“No! No! Please!” He attempts to scramble to his feet.
In one motion, we plunge the knife into his throat, and then his chest,
and his stomach. Fresh droplets of blood splatter over Dolly’s cheeks and
chest. Red blotches cover her arms, her knees still steeped in a thick pool of
blood. We work as one, and all too soon, he stops crying and wiggling.
He’s dead.
Lying on the floor, blood pouring out of his wounds.
We drop the knife, letting it clamber to the ground as Dolly leans into
my chest, and I wrap my bloody arms around her. Covered in the filth of
those two degenerate fucks, we get to our feet.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
The sounds rapid fire from the computer.
“Stay here,” I direct Abigail before making my way to the camera. The
viewers have typed in cheers and congratulations and requests for better
ways to end Bossman and Beardman.
“Queenhearts, I hope you enjoyed your special request this evening. I
promise you, you’ll enjoy it much better live. We’ll be seeing you real
soon.”
The ellipses dances in the chat box as my thumb finds the power button
on the camera.
“Bye, bye.”

OceanofPDF.com
THIRTEEN

OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY

“L et’s find you something to wear.” Ken wraps his hand around mine
and helps me to my feet. The room is chilled. Blood runs cold over
my feet as I stand in the pools we created, but his touch warms me. I follow
the trail from our joined hands, fingers braided, up his arm to his chin.
“You need to shave.” I reach up to touch the thick stubble covering his
strong jaw. It’s coarse and dirty. I run my fingers over it, feeling him,
touching him after so long of being out of reach.
He laughs lightly.
“We can both get cleaned up, but first, we have to get out of here.”
“What about…them?” I wave my hand over the bodies without
breaking eye contact with him. There’s no need to look at them. I know
what I’ll see. Blood, flesh torn open, eyes locked in despair staring up at
me.
“I’ll deal with that later.” He glances at the laptop. Even with the
cameras off, people still blow up the chatroom.
He tugs on my hand and leads me out of the room. Bossman never
suspected he’d need to keep us locked in the playroom, so it’s open when
Ken turns the knob.
Forced heat wraps around our naked bodies as we step into a plush
carpeted hallway.
“We’re not in the warehouse.” He lets go of my hand and surveys our
surroundings. There are three other doors in the short hallway.
“That’s the bathroom.” I point to the last room on the left. “The stairs
are around the corner.”
His brow wrinkles.
“You were always asleep when they brought you up here,” I explain.
“They didn’t need to drug me. I came up—” Pain wraps around my heart,
squeezing gently. “I came willingly.” Tears flood my eyes and fall before I
can force them back. Even my tears aren’t mine to control.
“Dolly.” His hands grip my shoulders. “Nothing they did to you is your
fault. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I hear his words and they make sense. They’re in the right order, and I
understand them, but my brain won’t let them soak in.
“I didn’t fight them. Not like you.” I lower my gaze. Not for one minute
did Ken stop pushing toward escape. He didn’t accept his lot in life the way
I had. He was strong. So much stronger than I could ever be.
“You did everything you could to survive.” His voice dips, the bossy
part of him starting to invade. “We have to get cleaned up and get you into
something warm. We’ve been cold for too fucking long.” He pushes open
the door to the bathroom. It’s no different than any other. Shower, toilet,
sink. It’s all here. Normal.
“What’s in the other rooms?” He reaches into the shower to turn on the
water. Steam builds immediately, and I can’t wait to get under the water.
“Two bedrooms. Not playrooms. Just regular rooms,” I tell him as he
searches beneath the sink. Finding a new bar of soap, he tears into the
package and hands it to me. “Okay, get in.” He gestures to the water.
“Are you going to stay here with me?” I ask. He’s free. He can run
away, he can go back home, go far away from all this.
“Absolutely.” He nods with a grim smile. “Everything we do from now
on is together, remember?” He pulls the shower curtain back. “In you go.”
I climb into the tub and dunk my head beneath the hot spray. I could
purr, it’s so wonderful. The curtain sweeps to the side, and Ken steps in
behind me. He takes up a lot of space, but I don’t mind. It’s better this way,
being close to him.
“Is this okay?” he asks me. If I said no, if I asked him to go, he would.
He wouldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do.
“Yes.” I nod, folding my arms over my chest. He’s seen me completely
naked, seen the horrible marks they left on me, there’s no reason to be shy
now. The water and soap clean away the dirt and blood, but my hair is
matted to my scalp and the paint they put on my face has to be smearing
down my cheeks.
“You don’t have to hide from me.” He brushes my arms away. “I’m
going to check your nipple. He bit—” He stops, his eyes meeting mine. “I
want to be sure it’s all right.”
I nod and move forward, out of the stream. With his large hand, he cups
both my breasts, cradling them in his palms.
“A small cut.” He runs his thumb over the spot he’s looking at. “It will
heal by tomorrow.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. His warm breath washes over my pert
nipples.
He stands upright again, still holding my breasts. “I want to be honest
with you. Of all things, we must always be honest. Do you agree?”
“Yes.” I can’t lie to him. The sight of disappointment in his eyes would
shatter me.
“I want to kiss you. I want to kiss away all your marks and scars.” The
porcelain squeaks as his feet shift closer, the water rinsing him of the evil of
the past.
I lean into him, brushing my cheek against his chin. The roughness of
his beard reminds me this is real. We are here together. Not in our cells.
There isn’t cold cement at our feet or bars between us.
“I want that too,” I assure him. He needs to know I want his touch. He
can’t think I’m afraid of him. I won’t tarnish his touch with fear.
Lowering his head, he flicks his tongue over my taut nipple, and I close
my eyes. He goes easy, biting with sweet pressure before switching sides. A
long swipe of his tongue across my nipple, then he devours me. I sink my
hand into his hair, fisting it in my fingers.
“That’s…that’s nice.” I sound like an idiot, but it’s his fault. His touch
makes my thoughts scatter too far away to reach.
He stands and walks forward until I’m beneath the stream of water
again, then presses me against the tiles. His hands fist in my hair, holding
me steady as he drags his mouth across mine in soft brushes before
capturing me. I’m still holding his hair, and he moans when I tighten my
grip.
“Fuck yes, Dolly,” he mutters between kisses, pressing his body against
mine. His cock is hard, the length of him presses against me.
I lift my leg and wrap it around his waist to feel him closer. The need in
me increases the deeper he takes the kiss.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, but doesn’t stop kissing me.
“I’m already hurting. I need you to make me feel good again. Take
away the pain. Take away their touch.” I bite his lip, sweeping my tongue
into his mouth.
A low growl erupts from his chest, the vibrations playing against my
chest.
He releases my hair and cups my ass, lifting me until the tip of his cock
is poised at my entrance.
“Please,” I beg, trailing kisses along his jaw.
“Dolly,” he sounds strained, but when his eyes meet mine, I see the
hunger. He’s just as pained, needs my touch just as much.
I frame his face with my hands and lock our gazes as he lowers me onto
his hard length. My body stretches around him, taking every bit of him. I let
out a harsh breath and push my head back. The burn is delightful. It dances
through my body while he adjusts his grip on me.
“Not soft,” I say, pressing my foot against the edge of the tub. I push my
hips at him, and he withdraws. “Not soft,” I say again, rewarded with a
forceful thrust. I cry out at the freedom the pleasure bursts from me. “Don’t
stop,” I order when he pauses. “Don’t stop.”
“Remember you said that.” He gives me a challenging grin, and I wrap
my arms around his neck, gladly taking everything he can give me. I want it
all—all of him.
“Yes. Yes!” My clit grinds against the rough curls above his cock. The
friction drags me closer to the edge, exactly where I want to be. I need to
fly.
The tiles rub against my back as he pumps into me. His fingertips dig
into my ass, and the bite of his nails keeps me from flying off into my head.
“Oh god. Oh god,” I chant, tightening my hold around his neck.
“Dolly. Oh, fuck, Dolly.” He bites my chin, then my neck.
“Right there. Harder, harder, harder.” I place my foot on the edge of the
tub for leverage and begin to buck against him. Water splashes over us,
running into my eyes and between our lips as we find each other.
He slams into me, and my insides shake, erupting the fragile bubble
building in my belly. I scream with the waves, over and over, crying out as
my body unravels.
“Such a good girl, my good girl,” he says softly, releasing one cheek to
fist my hair again. He drags my face to him and covers my mouth with his.
My whimpers fade away as he pumps harder and harder until he finds his
release. His fingers pull my hair, and I swallow his cry as he takes his own
flight over the cliff.
Moments pass as we hold each other, our breath mingling. The water is
tepid now.
“Are you okay—?” I shush his question with my hand over his mouth
and level him my best glare.
“I’m in your arms. How can I be anything else?”
He grabs my wrist and pulls my hand down, revealing his soft smile.
In silence, he puts me back on both feet and takes the soap from the
tray. Lathering his hands, he washes my back, my breasts, my ass tenderly.
Once he’s finished with my hair, he lets me wash him.
“I don’t think we can stay here,” I whisper as I dry my hair. He tucks the
loose end of the towel around his waist.
“We need to find our things. Get clothes, cash…information.”
“What information?”
“Queenhearts is responsible for tonight, and Dragonmate is responsible
for your last special request. And how many others have bid to see you
harmed?” He cups my chin in his hand. “They will pay. Every one.”
“Yes. Every one,” I repeat.
All the hopelessness drowning me since coming here washes away.
They won’t get away with what they’ve done.

OceanofPDF.com
FOURTEEN

OceanofPDF.com
KENDOLL

T he second bedroom we enter has everything I’m looking for. Piles of


clothes are folded on the bed. A few dresses, sweaters, leggings,
underwear… How many dolly’s have they held here?
I find the jeans and t-shirt I was wearing when they brought me in. Why
keep the clothes?
“Dolly?”
She’s standing at the end of the bed holding a pair of black leggings and
a red sweater. “I think these are mine,” she whispers. I’m at her side in two
steps. She runs her fingers over the knit sweater, petting it. “It was my
birthday dinner.”
She still hasn’t told me how she ended up here. “When they took you?”
I keep my voice soft. If I push too hard, too fast, she’ll hide.
“I was meeting my parents.”
The brightness of her cheeks fades, and her shoulders drop as the
memory takes hold.
“You don’t have to think about it now.” I take the clothes from her.
“Let’s get you dressed.”
“I can do it.” She sits on the bed. “There’s lots to do before we leave
here.”
She’s right. First order of business is figuring out exactly where we are.
I shove into my jeans and t-shirt while she lays her clothes out. While she’s
dressing, I go to the window and twirl the stick on the blinds to open them.
Bright sunlight blinds me.
“Fuck!” I clench my eyes against the light. Keeping them shielded with
my hand, I take another look outside. The front yard is covered in dead
grass. Crumpled up papers blow across the sidewalk. I blink until I adjust to
the sunlight well enough to make out the rest of the street. Worn down
houses. Broken shutters. Boarded up doors. Red spray paint marks the
windows and exterior walls.
We’re in an abandoned town. How far from Lake Palos?
I close the blinds. My mind lists all of the things we need to do, the
supplies we need.
“Are we going to leave them…?” Dolly asks, standing in the doorway,
looking down the hall at the room we left the assholes to rot.
“I need to get the computers out of there. Then we’ll search the rest of
this place for anything else that will be useful.”
“Like food?” She presses her hand to her stomach.
“Fuck yes.” I laugh. “Food is top priority.”
“I’ll go downstairs. Maybe the fridge is full.”
I catch her arm before she gets far. “No. Stay up where with me. Don’t
wander by yourself.” We don’t know for sure Bossman and Beardman were
the only people in the house. Getting showered was risky enough, I’m not
willing to push my luck and let her scope out the downstairs unprotected.
“Then let me help,” she insists. She’s lost a lot of weight. Her sweater
drowns her.
I sweep her hair behind her ear. “Okay. Go through the rest of the stuff
in here and see if you can find any purses or wallets. And if anything fits,
take it.” I look down at her bare feet. Scratched and calloused from her time
in the cellar. “And don’t forget shoes.”
She wiggles her toes with a laugh. “I guess those would help, huh?”
Her chuckle envelopes me in warmth.
“Yeah.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll get what we need from the
other room. I should have a jacket. It’s black with a gray liner. See if you
can find it. It will have my wallet in the inside pocket…unless they
removed all that stuff.” Rapists, murderers, torturers—why wouldn’t
thieves be on the list? “When I’m done, I’ll come get you. Don’t leave this
room, okay?” She’s seen enough of those fuckers to last her three lifetimes,
no need to extend it.
“Sure. I don’t want to look”— a shudder goes through her—“at them.”
“You don’t have to, ever again.” I squeeze her shoulders.
Dolly rifles through the discarded clothing while I make my way back
to the playroom.
Standing outside the door, the stench of death already leaks into the
hallway. The sight inside is overwhelming. I have to gulp in a sizable breath
to keep my mind from spinning. They are dead. Finally, and forever, they’ll
leave Dolly alone.
The simple computer set up is quick to dissemble. There’s a closet in the
room I hadn’t noticed before. Inside, I find a three-drawer file cabinet.
External hard drives and flash drives. Too many to carry in my hands.
“Ken?” Dolly’s at the door
I grit my teeth. “I told you to stay in the other room,” I bark before I can
bite back the words. Her eyes widen a fraction, and her chin tucks into her
chest.
With a sigh, I get up from where I’m crouched in the closet. “I’m sorry.”
And I am. She’s safe with me. I can’t take out my frustrations on her. “No,
don’t look at them.” I grab her chin and direct her gaze to me. “Why did
you come in here? Did you need something?”
“I need a bag to put the clothes and shoes inside.”
“Let’s go downstairs. Maybe we can find a garbage bag or something.”
I slide my hand down her arm and lace our fingers together, giving hers a
gentle squeeze. “And some food.”
That has her smiling. Hell, if we find something edible down there, I’ll
be happy as fuck. My stomach stopped begging for sustenance a while ago,
but the possibility has brought back shadow pangs in my belly.
Leaving the mess in the room behind, we make our way down the hall. I
keep Dolly behind me as we descend the carpeted stairs. The house is still.
No creaks or shuffling. Once down in the front hall, the scent of pizza lures
us to the kitchen. A large pizza box sits on the counter with half a six pack
beside it.
“Looks like they were pregaming.” I release her hand and flip open the
box. Pepperoni. There’s still plenty of slices left, and they’re warm. “Have a
piece.”
She takes a large slice. Dipping her head back, she slides the corner
inside her mouth, biting off a large chunk. She hums while she chews, and
for a moment, I’m lost in the sound of it.
“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asks before taking a second bite.
I grab a slice and inhale it, not slowing down to even taste the cheese
and spice of the pepperoni. My stomach twists at the invasion.
“Not too fast.” I touch Dolly’s arm. She’s almost done with her second
slice. Grease from the cheese slides down her chin. “You don’t want to get
sick.”
She nods while taking a smaller bite.
If we had time, I’d help her polish off the pizza. But we have to get
supplies and get out of here. I have little doubt Bossman and Beardman
worked alone in their venture. Whoever else is in their circle might have
seen the livestream and could be closing in on us.
The kitchen is void of anything useful, so I search throughout the first
floor. Each room empty. They didn’t stay here.
“Ken, I found something.” Dolly finds me in the hallway, two black
duffel bags in her grip. “They were in the little room by the garage door.
There are jackets too.”
“Did you go in the garage?”
“No.” She pushes her hands out toward me with her bounty.
“Go back upstairs and fill one bag with the clothes you found, okay?”
“Where are you going?” A light tremble shakes her words.
“I’m just going to check the garage and their coats. They could have
cash, and I’m hoping there’s a car we can use.” I cradle her face between
my hands. “I’m not leaving without you. Together, remember?”
The need to believe me dances in her eyes, but she’s unsure. Now that
we’re free, I could walk away at any moment. Telling her I won’t doesn’t
cement it for her, so I’ll have to keep showing her. That’s okay. I don’t
mind. Dolly is worth the effort.
“Okay. I’ll get the stuff from upstairs.” She drags in a big breath and
pulls away from my grasp. “Here I go.” I wait until she’s up the stairs
before I rush to the garage.
Three coats hang on the back of the garage door. Rifling through the
pockets produces a cell phone, wallet, and a set of keys. Please be car keys.
My heart soars when I open the garage door and find a black Ford truck
sitting in the middle of the empty space. I fumble through the keys until I
get hold of the fob. The truck fires right up. A knot unravels in my chest. I
can breathe easier. We’ll be able to get away from here quickly. We can go
anywhere we want.
Turning off the ignition, I climb out of the truck and head back into the
house to find Dolly.
“Dolly! Are you done?” I yell up the stairs as I climb them. The house
has nothing to offer but memories already scarred into us. It’s time to get
away from here.
“All set.” Dolly steps out of the playroom with both duffel bags in her
hands. There’s blood on her chin. Her shoes are covered with it as well.
“What did you do?” I lick my thumb and wipe off the small splatter on
her cheek. She doesn’t wince at my touch, allowing me to clean her. She’s
no child, but she smiles up at me like a little girl who’s been caught stealing
cookies.
“I just said goodbye.” She lifts a shoulder.
“Is that right?” My lips tug into a smile. “It looks like you stomped
around in there.” I point to her shoes.
She frowns. “I made a mess.”
“Are there new shoes in the bag?” I ask.
“Yes. Only one pair, though.”
“That’s fine. Leave these behind and put the new ones on so we don’t
get blood all over the truck.”
Light shines in her eyes. “You found a truck?”
“Yes, now hurry and switch the shoes.”
She drops the bags and digs around. While she’s changing out the
bloody for the clean, I lean my head into the playroom. Following her
bloody footsteps, I find Beardman’s head turned toward me, his nose
disjointed and jaw hanging open at an awkward angle.
“Okay, I’m ready.”
I pick up the bags for her and gesture toward the stairs. “It’s the garage.
Did you find any purses or wallets or anything like that?” I ask as we hustle
down to the first floor. I don’t mention it to Dolly, but the longer we stick
around, the higher the chance of running into Bossman’s associates.
“Yeah, there in the bag. They kept everything from people.” She follows
me into the garage.
I stash the bags in the backseat of the truck cabin, then help her up.
“That’s weird, right? To keep the clothes and stuff. It’s weird.” She
scrunches her lips to one side.
I round the front of the truck and hop in the driver’s side.
“Everything about this place is weird, Dolly,” I say, searching the
console for the garage door opener.
“But they kept them like souvenirs. That’s really weird.” She scoffs.
Finding the remote, I open the garage door. Sunlight pours in, and we
both cover our eyes.
“Sunlight,” Dolly whispers, gingerly taking her arm away from her face.
As the beams light up the cabin, she leans forward toward the windshield, a
large grin dancing on her lips.
It’s not only the warm rays of the sun lighting up the truck cabin, it’s
our freedom.
“Where are we going to go?” she asks as I pull out of the garage, hitting
the button to close the door behind us.
I turn onto the empty street lined with boarded up houses on both sides.
“Somewhere safe so we can look over everything.” I reach over and
hold her hand. Smaller than mine, but just as mighty.
“Then what?” she asks, rolling down the window. Crisp spring air
rushes into the cabin, and although it’s chilly, it’s fresh.
I drag in a deep breath. Renewed energy pumps through my veins.
“Then we make them pay.”

OceanofPDF.com
FIFTEEN

OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY

K en’s still buried in the computer he took from the house when I come
out of the bathroom with an oversized t-shirt covering me. There
weren’t any pajamas in the piles of discarded clothes, but I had found this.
It feels good to have clothes on again—real clothes.
The dresses with all the frills and lace, designed to entice the viewers
and humiliate me into obedience, became awkward costumes. They covered
my nakedness from the camera—at least for a few minutes—but displayed
my failures.
This t-shirt comforts me, because I chose it.
“Find anything?” I ask Ken. My hair is still wet from my shower, and I
wrap the short white towel around to squeeze more water out.
He clicks a button and leans back in the chair. The motel he’s brought us
to has a queen-sized bed and a writing desk his size dwarfs while he’s
sitting at it.
“A few things.” He swivels the chair around until his knees have
trapped me between them. “You were in there a long time.”
I nod with a grin. “The water was so hot, I didn’t want to get out.”
He takes the towel from me and tosses it on the edge of the bed.
“Didn’t leave any for me then?” He chuckles and pulls me into his lap.
His thighs are strong.
“I think you were a scary police officer,” I say, pressing my hands
against his chest. He told me he was a cop, that he came to rescue me when
Bossman stole him away. He promised me the rest of his squad would keep
looking for us.
They never came.
His brow wrinkles. “Why do you say that?”
I shrug. “You’re so big.”
He laughs and pulls me into his chest to kiss my forehead.
“In a lot of ways,” I whisper into his ear, then bite down on his earlobe.
“Hmmm, is that right?” Scooping me up in his arms, he lifts me, only to
toss me onto the bed with a bounce.
I scramble to my knees and crawl to the end of the bed. His eyes burn
me as I kneel, grab the hem of my shirt, and pull it over my head. His gaze
doesn’t move from mine.
“Are you going to shave this off?” I run my fingers over the stubble
covering his jaw. His face was smooth and clean when he arrived in his cell.
He looked younger, more innocent then. The dark beard suits him,
distinguishes him from the man who had been dumped, drugged, bruised,
and sliced in the cell across from me.
“I don’t think I will.” His voice is nearly as rough as his appearance.
Unlike me, they never made him shave. “Are you going to spend all night
staring at me, or do you think you’ll kiss me?” He’s teasing me again.
I tilt my head, like I’m seriously considering my next move. My mouth
aches to touch his, and he must know it. He’s wearing his arrogance on his
lips.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” I might have to make him wait for it.
The little twitch of his eyebrow when I show him my defiance wakes my
insides. My belly trembles when his eyes darken. The uncertainty of his
actions shoots a tiny thrill down my spine. It’s been so long since the
electricity running through me was anything but pure pain.
He slips his hands beneath my arms and hauls me from the bed until my
feet touch the floor. My hands are drawn up over my head and placed there.
He doesn’t have to tell me to keep still, it’s written all over his face. He
wants my obedience. As if I could deny him anything.
His fingertips trail down my sides, tickling my ribs as he passes over
them.
“So many scars.” He licks the white mark on my shoulder. It’s old,
before my captivity. “So much beauty,” he mumbles, then kisses my neck,
biting down on my flesh and sucking until I groan from the discomfort as it
rises into purity of pleasure.
His hand wraps around my throat, not too hard, but his dominance, his
control, is undeniable.
“Now, kiss me.” His voice shatters the sliver of resolve I hold in my
grasp. Rising to my toes, I bring my mouth to his, pressing lightly. He
squeezes my throat, and I wrap my arm around his neck, pulling him down
toward me to deepen the kiss. My tongue pushes past his lips, dancing with
his, until I’m not sure who’s kissing who. A nip to my lower lip, a brush of
my tongue against his, we dance as one.
He’s the first to break away, throwing his head back and sucking in a
long breath.
“Fuck, Dolly.” He’s grappling for his own control. When his control
slips, I can tuck myself into him, freeing myself in the process. “I shouldn’t
want to do what I want to do.” He’s torn.
I frame his face with my hands and pull him back to me. “I want it too.
You’ll never hurt me—never truly hurt me.” I wrap one hand around his
wrist and push his hand harder into my throat.
“I won’t be like them.” His voice drops.
“You’re nothing like them.” I squeeze his hand around me tighter. Air
moves slightly out of my grasp. “I want you.”
His lips thin into a straight line. His nostrils flare with his harsh exhale.
A decision is made. The war is over.
Keeping his hand tight around my throat, he reaches down to his pants,
undoes the buckle and the button and the zipper, and shoves them down his
thighs. Without leaving my gaze, he kicks his jeans away from us and
shoves me onto the bed, climbing on with me.
He drags me up higher, until we’re fully on the mattress. His hand
flexes, and my air is lost. I close my eyes, enjoying the darkness creeping in
around the edges.
With his knee, he shoves my legs apart and settles between them. His
hard length rests against my wet, wanting sex.
“Breathe,” he orders as his fingers loosen. “Deep breaths.”
I suck in as much as I can before he squeezes again. I don’t know how
long he’ll keep me under, but my gaze flocks to his. Locked in his
blackened expression, I’m consumed by his energy.
Light begins to dance on the edge of my vision, and he releases again.
“Breathe in.” He hasn’t moved his hand away. He’s not finished.
I take what I can, but too soon, he clamps down again. Just as my air is
cut off, he thrusts inside me. My mind screams at the sudden fullness, joy at
the burn only his cock can bring me.
“Hold it in, baby.” His growl dances over my ear as he fills me again
and again with his cock. “Hold it.” My mind soaks in his words, but my
body is answering to his.
I pull my legs up, hooking my ankles around his waist.
His fingers loosen, and I suck in air, coughing slightly as the rush of it
touches my throat.
“Breathe, baby. Breathe,” he says. He shifts his position, grasps my
nipple with his free hand, and twists until I can’t hold back the cry any
longer. Familiar pain rushes through my body, but my mind untangles it,
pushing the sensations into a pleasant valley I’d blocked off for so long.
His eyes bore into mine. “Deep breath now.”
I suck in as much as my lungs will allow. Once capacity is reached, his
fingers tighten again, harder than before. No air will get past him.
His thrusts increase, his force rocking the bed as he continues to fuck
me and drive me to a brink of uncertainty and panicked joy. My belly dips.
His fingers leave my breast and find my clit.
Is there no part of my body he doesn’t know how to work? Skilled
movements, circling my clit, pressing down hard, circle again, twinge, flick,
circle, all while stretching my pussy with his thick cock.
The pressure is too much.
“Are you ready?” he asks me. His jaw clenches tight, making a little
crease in his cheek. He’s at his edge, but won’t dive over without me. Ken
won’t leave me behind.
I try to nod, but his grip is too tight.
He closes his eyes for a short moment. When he opens them again,
determination runs rampant.
“Fuck…” He squeezes more, and just as I think all is lost, my body
explodes into a variety of shakes and electricity. Energy flows from me.
His hand releases, letting my scream escape my throat. I buck up at him,
matching his thrusts as he plows into me harder, chasing his own utopia. I
want him with me. I suck in air, digging my nails into his biceps as he
thrusts harder and harder, until finally, he stills over me.
My body eases from the heavens. Tingles still run through my core. All
my energy expels from me, leaving me limp and wanton.
His heavy breath washes over my face. I bring my hand up to my throat,
still feeling the ghost of his fingers wrapped around it.
“Dolly,” he whispers as he slips from my body to lay beside me, hauling
me up to his side. “Are you okay, baby? You aren’t hurt?”
I roll over, nuzzling beneath his chin.
“I’m perfect.”
“I don’t know why…” His voice breaks off. “I didn’t used—”
I push myself up on my elbow and stare down at the gorgeous power
that is him. “I think parts of us died in our cells. I was weak and scared
there.” I brush my hand over his beard again. “You don’t scare me. And
even when it hurt, I felt powerful. You gave me that.”
He captures my wrist and brings it to his mouth, placing a kiss to the
inside.
“You were never weak,” he chastises me.
I smile because it seems to be what he wants. Arguing over my stupidity
and weakness will upset him.
“You need sleep. Let me clean you up so you can get under the covers.”
He kisses my wrist again, then rolls from the bed. He grabs his jeans and
works them up over his hips while he treads to the bathroom.
“Aren’t you coming to bed?” I ask as he runs the warm washcloth
between my folds, wiping away his essence.
“I’m close to finding something. When I find it, I’ll come to bed.” He
folds the towel and puts it on the nightstand. “Sleep, Dolly.” He pulls the
covers back and waits until I’ve crawled beneath before drawing them up to
my chin.
I wish I knew more about computers so I could help him. As it stands,
all I can do is leave him to work in quiet.
I yawn.
“Are we safe here, Ken?” I ask, my eyes closing.
“We are.” There’s no waver of confidence in his voice.
“Won’t the police be looking for us?” I yawn again.
“We’ll talk in the morning. Sleep.” He presses a finger to my lips.
He’s going to start having questions for me.
I’m going to have to tell him.
I only hope he won’t despise me when I do.

OceanofPDF.com
SIXTEEN

OceanofPDF.com
KENDOLL

I ’m astounded at the amount of information filling the hard drives.


Beardman and Bossman had no idea how to keep anything hidden from
view. They were too cocky thinking they’d never be bested or caught.
Every session is listed in chronological order dating back two years.
Dolly’s sessions began three months ago. They had me locked in that
fucking cell for an entire month. As angry as I am over my lost time, my
insides quake knowing Dolly had been there longer. And alone.
I at least had her with me.
The chat logs twist my insides. Disregard to the humanity of the abused
on screen, the viewers made more and more disturbing requests until their
final sessions. I haven’t brought myself to watch the ending scenes of the
women and men who came before us, but I will have to eventually. It was
almost me on the tapes, my life ending with avid viewers gobbling up my
torment and death.
Dolly paces the room, her thumbnail between her teeth. I scour over
financial files. Recorded memberships.
“Are you hungry?” she asks, suddenly at my side. “Maybe we should
take a break and get some lunch.” She wiggles onto my lap and rests her
head on my shoulder.
She’s been distracting me all morning.
We’ve already been to the diner across the street for breakfast. I’m not
willing to risk further exposure until I get a good feel on what’s happened
back at the house.
“I’ll get us some sandwiches soon. There’s still fruit from your breakfast
if you’re hungry.” I point to the takeout carton on the nightstand.
She frowns.
“What is it?” I ask, brushing her hair from her face. “Do you need to get
out of here for a while?”
She nibbles on the inside of her cheek. I’d like to be able to grab the
thoughts flying through her mind.
“I’m nervous,” she whispers, burying her head beneath my chin. I wrap
my arms around her.
“They’re dead. They can’t hurt us anymore. And we’re going to find out
who’s behind their operation. I know it’s scary, but I promise I won’t let
anything else happen to you. Ever.” I squeeze her to me.
She inhales, like she’s starting to say something, then shuts down. Her
body softens against me.
“Give me another hour and we’ll go out, okay? It’s sunny out and
there’s a forest preserve not far from here. We can walk through the
woods.”
“Okay.” She blows out a breath and scoots off my lap. Padding across
the room in her bare feet, she grabs the television remote and clicks it on.
I roll my head, working out the stiffness in my neck. I’ve been at this
for hours, consumed with wanting all the answers. There’s no telling how
long we actually have before something or someone catches up to us. I’ve
debated calling the precinct, but in the end, kept to my gut. Getting them
involved would bring more obstacles than aid. I’m no computer genius, but
so far, I haven’t come across anything I can’t crack on my own thanks to the
few courses I took while considering going for a federal job.
Once we’ve cleared the air, taken care of everything, then I can bring
them in for the clean-up.
I click open another file, expecting to find a laundry list of usernames.
It’s another video, but instead of being labeled Dolly-7, it has Dolly’s real
name. Abigail.test.mov
She’s buried herself under the covers and is engrossed in the sitcom
rerun she’s watching. I make sure the volume on the computer is low
enough she can’t hear, then click play.
A younger version of the woman I know now appears on screen. She’s
sitting on a bed in a motel room similar to the one we’re in. Her hair is
shorter, curls framing her innocent face. Her legs are tucked up to her chest,
and she hugs them to her while watching whoever fiddles with the camera.
She couldn’t be more than fifteen in the video, maybe younger. My
estimates on age aren’t always accurate.
“Now, Gabby. I asked you to get dressed, didn’t I?” a male voice
chastises. He walks on screen, a looped belt in one hand. I can’t see his
face, only his damn trousers. The bottom of a concert poster can be seen on
the wall. This is her bedroom. He did this in her house. Where the fuck was
her mother?
I blink and shake my head as she lowers her legs from the bed.
“Daddy, I don’t want to do this,” she says. It’s soft, and the plea heavy,
but I hear her clearly.
“Gabby, now. Or you’ll have to pay a consequence.” He taps the belt
against his leg, and her attention snaps to it. Her complexion pales, but she
gets moving. My breath stills in my throat as I watch everything unfold. She
undresses for him, and he praises her, touches her. She winces and cries, but
he doesn’t care. Scars litter her chest and stomach, fresher than the pale
white marks I kissed only last night.
Finally, air comes back into my lungs as rage pushes my heart into a
gallop. He’s hurting her, touching her, making her touch him.
I slam the computer shut, unable to take in another second of her
torment.
It didn’t start in the playroom.
Tears burn my eyes.
So many people have hurt her.
When I look up again, Dolly’s staring at me, her lips pressed into a thin
line and forehead wrinkled with worry. Her gaze flickers to the closed
laptop on the desk.
“Dolly, come here.” I put my hand out to her.
She pushes the covers out of the way and slides off the bed. With
measured steps, she walks toward me, her head down and fingers wiggling
at her sides, like a little girl about to confess to a sin.
But it’s not her sin.
“Dolly, tell me how you came to be in the house. How did you end up
there?”
She stiffens and bites down on her lip.
“I don’t really remember—”
“Dolly.” I let my voice go hard. I hate it, but she responds to it. “No
lying.”
“I’m sorry.” She sucks in air through her teeth. “I was supposed to meet
my parents for dinner.”
“For your birthday,” I offer when she stops.
“Yes. My birthday.”
“And?” She’s trembling, but I won’t touch her yet. Once she gets
through letting it all out, I’ll wrap my arms around her and cradle her until
the hurt fades.
“My father…my dad…he, uh…” She dashes away a tear from her
cheek. “I wasn’t a good daughter. I caused trouble, and he needed money.”
A fire ignites in my veins. “What did you do that makes you think you
weren’t a good daughter?” I force my tone to remain flat. I’m not angry
with her, but she might not understand that.
“I didn’t listen to him sometimes. He had to make me listen, and he
hated having to do that. It made my mom sad. And then, when I got old
enough to go to college, he said I could go, he said he could pay for it, but
something must have happened because he needed money so bad…” Her
words fly out too fast for me to catch every one of them. She twists her
fingers together as she rattles on. “And it was my fault because I didn’t
listen. I’m old enough to live on my own. He caught me looking for an
apartment. It made him really mad.”
I wrap my hand over hers to stop her from hurting herself.
“Your parents didn’t want you to move out?” I ask, urging her to
continue.
“No. Daddy said I couldn’t move out yet. But I didn’t listen.”
“Wait a second.” I think back to her file, to everything I poured over the
day I had my hands on it. I don’t remember where it said she lived, but why
would her parents be meeting her for dinner if they lived in the same house?
“You were meeting them for dinner?” I jump ahead to the dinner. I don’t
need to go backwards to know what she endured at the hands of her father;
the evidence played on the screen before me.
She nodded and shrugged at the same time. “That’s what he told me. He
said we were meeting Mom for dinner. But he didn’t take me to the
restaurant.”
My hand squeezes hers.
“Dolly.” It’s a command for her attention, and she obeys without
hesitation. “Did your dad bring you to the house?”
She shook her head. “No. A factory or warehouse or something. There
were a lot of buildings, but they were empty.”
The same place they snagged me and Cathy.
“Do you remember what they said? Did you see them?”
She raises her eyes to meet mine. “Do you hate me?”
The question catches me off guard. Hate her?
“Why would you think that?” I demand, and it’s not forced. How could
she think something like that?
“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been taken either. Dad wouldn’t
have brought me there if I hadn’t been so much trouble, and you wouldn’t
have come looking for me. You wouldn’t have been hurt if I hadn’t been so
horrible.” Her steady tone matches the sincerity in her eyes. She truly
believes all this is her doing because she didn’t let her father rape and
molested her at will. My chest clenches, but I steel my gaze. I won’t let my
anger make her afraid of me.
“You did nothing wrong. Everything he did to you—” I cut off my
words before my anger makes me scream them. “Everything he did to you
was wrong.” My throat burns with the need to cry out in rage. Her father
doesn’t deserve another breath.
“If I had maybe—”
I press my finger to her lips. “No. This is his fault. This is the fault of
the fuckers who bled out in that playroom. Not yours.” I keep a hard tone.
She needs to believe me. She needs to understand, because once we finish
with her father, I can’t take the chance of her blaming herself for his demise
either.
“I didn’t want you to be angry,” she says behind my finger. I drop it so
she can talk again. I have more questions.
“Did your mother know all the things he did to you?” I ask, already
knowing by the twist of nausea inside I have the answer.
“She said if I was good, he wouldn’t do it so much. That he’d leave me
alone if I would just listen. But I tried that. I tried.” Her voice lowers. “I did
everything he said. I stopped fighting so much. But he just kept doing it. He
kept coming into my room. He kept doing all of it! He wouldn’t even let me
live in a dorm because he wanted me close!” she shouts, smacking her fists
into her hips.
I capture her wrists and hold them until the anger boiling beneath the
surface calms. “What happened the night he brought you to the
warehouse?” I ask, releasing her.
She brings her gaze to meet mine. The color has returned to her cheeks,
life is vibrant in her eyes. “There were three men. Beardman, Bossman, and
someone else. My father sold me to them. They promised me I’d get to go
home once I made back the money. But that was only to get me to
cooperate and go to the house. Once I was there, once I was locked up, the
promises stopped.”
“Your father might know who the third man is.” I move to my feet and
pull her to my chest, taking all her hurt and anger into myself. “We’ll find
out.”
Her arms snake around my waist.
“He’s a bad man,” she says after several long moments of silence.
“Yes, he is.”
“Do I have to see him again?”
“You do.” I kiss her forehead. “But it will be the last time. I swear it.”
She hugs me tighter. “I know.”
The afternoon is for planning, but tonight, before I tuck her into bed
beside me, she will be free of one more nightmare.

OceanofPDF.com
SEVENTEEN

OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY

M y house is the last property on the street, sitting higher up than the
other houses on a hill. I used to think Daddy liked it that way
because he could keep a close watch on me when I was out playing with my
friends. He always knew where I was and that I was safe. But I was wrong
—just like with so many other things. He liked it because he could look
down on the rest of our neighbors.
They weren’t as good or skilled as he was. Daddy’s a doctor. Sometimes
I think he confuses himself with God.
Sometimes I do too. They’ve both betrayed me.
“Almost there.” Ken turns off the truck headlights and accelerates up
the incline.
It’s late. Porch lights have gone off for the night, and the houses are
dark as we roll past them.
A lifetime ago, these homes were safe places. Play dates and study
groups with my friends after school. Just like any other kid.
Then Daddy said I was too old for playdates. He said I’d be better off
studying on my own.
“What if he doesn’t know anything?” I ask.
Ken raises his chin. “He knows.”
“I’m so sorry.” I know he doesn’t blame me, but I do. My father was no
saint, and I should have heeded my own internal warnings. I shouldn’t have
fallen for his sweet temper and saccharine smile. I should have questioned
why Mom wasn’t with us. Why would she meet us at the restaurant?
It didn’t occur to me my father would sell me—would hand me over to
monsters worse than him. And it should have.
Ken reaches over the center console and squeezes my hand. “I don’t
want to hear you say that again. The only people to blame here are your
mother and father.” He’s being bossy again, and it settles my nerves.
When I see him, will my insides quake like they did every time he came
into my room with his camera in hand? Or will I be able to do what I need
to?
Ken will be with me, I tell myself. He’ll keep me strong.
“There.” I point to the driveway. It’s hard to see at night without any
lights, but Ken finds it easily and rolls the truck to a stop.
A light shines in the upstairs bedroom. My room.
I press my hand flat against my stomach as a sharp twist of nausea hits
me. Why is my light on?
“Does your father have any weapons inside?” Ken pulls my attention.
“Guns or anything like that?”
I swallow back the bile clawing its way up my throat.
“Uh…yeah.” I blink a few times, clearing my mind of the lingering fear.
“In his office. He has a gun case. I wasn’t allowed in there, but I think he
has a rifle, maybe a handgun. I’m not sure.” I’m failing Ken again.
He cups my chin, pulling my eyes to meet his. Harsh and dark, I lose
myself in him for a moment. “We’ll find them. It’s late, your parents are
probably asleep,”
“My bedroom light is on,” I whisper. Daddy can’t hear me, but I learned
not to take chances.
Ken runs his thumb over my jaw. “If you want to stay here—”
“No. I can do this. I want to. He…he can’t own this part of me
anymore.” I suck in a breath, hoping it will settle the nerves wreaking havoc
on my body. It could all go wrong. I could end up right where I was.
Ken studies me for a long moment. Maybe he’s losing his confidence in
me, seeing me for the weakling I am.
“He doesn’t own you anymore,” he says firmly, then kisses me hard,
taking me off guard before I melt into him. “Follow me, do not leave my
side. Understood, Dolly?”
I nod, my forehead bumping his. “I understand, Ken.”
He gives me a final peck on the cheek and pops his door open. I shuffle
out my side and press the door closed, trying not to make any sound.
Following behind Ken, we get to the front door.
“There’s an alarm key,” I whisper. “It could have changed. Daddy
changes it sometimes.”
Ken’s jaw tightens. “We’ll have to risk it. If the alarm goes off, we’ll
just have to move faster.” He pulls out the little picks he bought from the
hardware store and works the lock until the knob turns and the door springs
open. We hurry inside, and I navigate to the keypad, punching in the last
code I remember.
Incorrect.
My breath hitches. I only have two more tries before the company calls
Daddy.
Maybe I typed it wrong. Slowing my movements, I try again.
Incorrect.
Fuck!
Ken’s quiet behind me. I don’t want to disappoint him. Think. Think.
Think!
“One more try, Dolly,” he whispers in my ear. He’s already come up
with a plan B if I fail, yet the pressure doesn’t ease in my chest.
I take a few breaths. If Daddy changed it…what…
Four digits. My finger hovers over the first number. No choice but to
try. I press my guess in.
Alarm off.
My body sags with relief. My birth year. The old me would have seen it
as a sign of his love for me. Now I know it’s just another way he uses me.
“Where’s his office?” Ken asks, grasping my hand. I lead him down the
hall. We take quiet steps, pausing to listen for any noise upstairs. Nothing.
Once inside Daddy’s office, I let go of his hand and press myself against
the wall. I don’t belong in here. The dark mahogany paneling on the walls
signals his territory. His room. Not mine. He can come into mine, but I’m
never to enter his.
Ken uses his pick to get the gun case open. There’s more than I
remembered. He tucks two handguns into his waist and pulls a rifle from
the wall. He grabs bullets and goes about loading everything.
“Do you know how to use this?” he asks, holding up a handgun.
Daddy never let me look at them, much less touch one. “Point and
shoot?” I ask.
Ken chuckles softly. “There’s more to it than that. But we don’t have
time. If you need to, point and shoot.” He hands me the gun.
It’s heavier than it looks. Looking it over, I find a little switch that must
be the safety and flip it off.
“No, keep it on for now.” Ken puts the safety back on for me. “Just hold
onto it.” Seeing as I’ve never held a gun, it’s probably best to listen to him.
Shooting myself accidentally would ruin our plans.
He cradles my hand in his and leads me from the office to the kitchen. I
stay in the doorway, keeping an ear out for movement. My mother’s a light
sleeper. If she hears us, she’ll get up to investigate. Drawers open and close.
When Ken reappears, he’s holding a butcher knife and a cleaver.
He hands me the butcher knife and walks past me, and I follow,
creeping behind him up the stairs to the second floor.
The light from my bedroom fills the hallway as we approach the top
step.
“Fuck yeah.” An erotic moan escapes the same room, and we both still.
Ken looks back at me, checking my expression, then taps his lips, signaling
for me to keep quiet. My insides are shaking too hard to form sounds
anyway.
“Daddy, no.”
I freeze. That’s my voice. Ken pulls me against the wall with him. My
fingers tighten around the handle of the knife, the gun in my other hand
shakes in my grip.
“Fuck yeah. Like that, Susanna. Just like that.”
Mom, I mouth to Ken.
My lungs pump short breaths. Sweat covers my brow.
Ken’s eyes narrow. He’s heard enough.
He shoves off the wall and bursts through the open door to my old
bedroom. I follow. I’m not sure of much at the moment, but I know for
certain I need to be with Ken.
My mother is naked and on her knees. Her hair is pulled into pigtails,
her mouth full of my father’s cock. The television on my desk plays an
episode of my past I want wiped from my memory. I’m in the same position
on the screen.
“What the fuck!” My dad sees us first and stumbles back a step. Mom
falls forward to her hands, twisting her head to see who’s intruded on their
playtime.
“Gabby?” Mom’s eyes widen. “How are you here?”
“Mom…” Words are lost somewhere between my brain and my tongue.
I can’t seem to keep my eyes from wandering to the screen.
Ken steps forward, blocking my view.
“Who the fuck are you?” Daddy demands, straightening to his full
height, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Gabby, come here.”
He points to the floor next to him.
I step closer to Ken’s back, drawing in his power. He’s not going to let
anything happen to me.
“This is what you do now that you sold her?” Ken moves toward my
mother, aiming his knife at her. “You get dressed up like your daughter so
he can relive raping her?”
Mom scrambles to her feet. “No…”
Ken points to the television. “No? Really?” He marches over to the
desk, and in one powerful swing, brings the cleaver down into the
television, cracking the flat screen. Another hit, and the picture goes blue.
He takes aim at the CD player the video is playing from and destroys it in
one hit.
“Gabby! Tell him to stop,” Mom urges me, panic and anger mingling
together in her demand. “Tell him that’s not what happened.”
I turn my head from the mess Ken made to my parents, huddling close
together, naked and flaccid. Daddy has lost weight. His skin sags around his
middle. Or has it always? The big man I remember, the strong, powerful
father looming over my bed as I slept, isn’t the same man in my bedroom
now. Maybe he never has been. Maybe it was my fear making him larger
than life.
“You didn’t care.” I wiggle my toes inside the sneakers. “You let him so
you could watch later?” I scream, making her jump.
“Gabby—”
“Don’t call me that!” I yell at Daddy, covering my ears with my hands.
The gun slips from my grasp.
Daddy shoves Mom to the ground and lunges for it, but Ken is quicker,
stronger, smarter. He’s already anticipated my father’s moves and he’s
ready.
A shot rings out, echoing in my ears. Daddy falls at my feet, blood
spraying from his left wrist.
I can’t hear Mom’s yelling over Daddy’s wails. Stepping over Daddy, I
go to Mom.
“What are you saying?” I ask, cupping my ear and tilting my head. “I
can’t hear you.” The ringing bounces between her words.
“Don’t hurt him,” she yells in my face.
Don’t hurt him. Had she ever spoken those three little words in my
defense? Had she ever once begged him not to hurt me when he was angry
—or worse, when he wasn’t? Did she fall to bended knee, pleading for
mercy for her only child, her young daughter?
My fist lands in the middle of her face, and blood spurts out her nose,
splattering my sweatshirt.
“Gabby!” Daddy shouts from where he lays on the floor, holding his
wrist. Ken stands over his huddled form, the gun pointed at him.
“Lie on the bed.” Ken points to my mother. She’s holding her nose and
shaking her head. “Do it now or I’m going to shoot him again,” Ken
threatens, but I know he won’t. Daddy knows something, and until he tells
us, he’ll live.
But Mom doesn’t know that.
“Okay…okay…” She climbs onto my bed, still covered in the same soft
pink comforter and white pillows as when I lived here. It’s only been
months, but the memories feel like a lifetime ago.
Ken points to Daddy’s belt lying on the floor. “Use that to bind her
wrists,” he instructs me. It isn’t hard. Daddy did it to me a lot of times. I
wrap the leather around her wrists, then through the buckle, until she’s
strapped tight and can’t get her hands out. She doesn’t try to talk to me, but
her eyes are begging, pleading for a mercy I was never granted.
Ken kicks Daddy until he’s on his back, then crouches near his face,
dangling the cleaver over his nose.
“You sent a video to those fat fucks you sold her to. An audition? Or
maybe you were selling the sessions?” Ken presses the edge of the knife to
Daddy’s nose.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Daddy answers in a panic.
“Who did you send the videos to?” Ken’s voice hardens. He’s not going
to stop until Daddy tells him. Ken rolls his head. “I don’t have time for this
bullshit. Who did you send the videos to and who took money for your
daughter?” Ken slides the tip of the cleaver down Daddy’s nose to his
cheek. Dark red blood drips from the deep cut.
“Stop!” Daddy brings his hands up to his face, but Ken pushes them
away, not deterred.
“Did you ever once stop when she begged you to?” Ken presses a knee
into Daddy’s chest.
“Ow. No...I’m sorry.” Daddy coughs as the air gets harder to take in.
He’s not really sorry. I know that. It’s the pain making him talk. I said a lot
of things I didn’t mean when he was hurting me…when Bossman hurt me.
“Who?” Ken digs his knee in harder.
“You’re hurting him!” Mom cries from behind me on the bed.
“Shut up.” I smack her again.
“Stop this! You stop it right now!” she screams up at me. I drop my
knife to the floor and reach for her throat. I’ll make her shut up.
“Dolly! No,” Ken yells, and I still. “We’ll keep her quiet another way.
Get something to gag her with. A towel or something,” Ken orders, twisting
his knee into Daddy and making him groan more.
I rush to my dresser and find my leggings. I need to grab more of them
before we leave the house.
“Good.” Ken nods his approval. I bring them over to Mom. Panic sets
in, and her eyes widen as I approach her.
“One second, Dolly,” Ken stops me as I get ready to gag my mother
with my leggings.
“Don’t! Please.” Mom begs for my father as Ken readjusts his stance
again. He lifts Daddy’s soft, small cock, and with a swish through the air,
the cleaver makes a clean cut.
Daddy wails at the loss and pain, and Ken grips the fleshy muscle in his
hand, bringing it to the bed. Daddy thrashes around on the floor, clutching
at his crotch where blood spurts onto the floor. Heavy, tormented sobs
escape him. He brings his knees upward, as though rolling into a ball will
help with the pain.
Ken’s not distracted by the noises Daddy’s making.
“You want this so badly. Here.” Ken squeezes my mother’s cheeks until
she opens her mouth and shoves it inside. He takes the leggings from me
and maneuvers them around her mouth before she can push it out with her
tongue. “Choke on his cock some more.” He ties the leggings behind her
head and points a finger directly at her nose. “You should have been a good
mother. You should have protected her and helped her. Instead, you fed the
monster you married with—Your. Own. Daughter.” He grips her hair and
drags her head back, exposing her neck.
Mom jerks her head away, trying to scream, but the leggings and cock
gag have her muffled. Her face screws up with disgust as she tries to shove
Daddy’s cock back out of her mouth.
“Keep that in there!” I yell, pressing my hands against her mouth. More
stifled screams. Fat tears streak down her face. Her shoulders shake with
her dense sobs.
I’ve had enough of her drama. There are worse things than what she’s
being put through. Swiping my knife from the floor, I look to Ken for my
next move. He catches my gaze and gives a nod.
The blade cuts easily through her throat as I drag it from one side to the
other. Daddy always liked a sharp knife.
Blood spurts and drips while Mom’s stifled cries become garbled. She
struggles for air, but she’ll never find it. I cut too good. It only takes a few
long moments before the garbling stops and her head lulls to the side, life
draining out of her eyes.
“Susanna!” Daddy cries pitifully. Ken and I turn back to my father,
laying on the floor, both hands still pressed to his groin. Blood pools
beneath him, soaking into the beige carpet.
“I’ll ask again. Who did you deal with?” Ken shoves Dad’s hip so he’s
flat on his back again and squats over him.
“Please.” Tears escape, trailing down his wrinkled face. When had he
gotten so old? “Please.”
“If I have to ask again, I’m just going to start taking off your fingers.”
Ken sounds bored, but I know he’s as excited as I am about making Daddy
pay.
“No. No. Okay…okay…” He sniffles. “Fuck!” he screams, the muscles
in his neck straining from the effort. “I needed cash fast and this guy…he’s
been wanting to play with Gabby for a long time. I didn’t think he’d take
her forever, just you know…for a little while.”
My chest hurts. “You rented me out?” I’m not sure if that’s better or
worse. Can there even be a good side to this?
“No. He didn’t want to do that, he…fuck…his name is Mortimer
Montgomery.”
“How do I find him?” Ken grabs Dad’s jaw and yanks his face until he’s
staring up at him. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. There’s a phone number. In my phone. Morty. Contact is
Morty.” He ends his confession on a sob. “Please. No more. Please.” Is he
begging to live or die?
After all the pain he’s given me, the sleepless nights, the nightmares, the
fear—he wants mercy.
“Ken.” I touch his shoulder. “Let me?” I keep my voice low. Daddy
doesn’t own me anymore.
Ken nods and climbs off of Daddy, kneeling beside him and giving me
the room I need.
“You hurt me,” I say to him, moving down to my knees. His blood
soaks through my pants, the warmth spreading over my skin. “You’re a bad
man.” I grip my knife with both hands. He’s hurt and bleeding too much.
Leaving him now would mean certain death. But I’m not done yet. He has
to know what he did. He has to know he lost.
“You’re a bad man. But I’m a good girl.” I raise my knife and jam it in
his chest, then lean forward, putting my weight on the handle until it slides
into his chest all the way up to the hilt. “See, I told you I learned my
anatomy.” I could have made it hurt. I could have tortured him. But that
would make me like him.
And I won’t let him win.
I’m a good girl.

OceanofPDF.com
EIGHTEEN

OceanofPDF.com
KENDOLL

“D o you think we’re going to hell?” Dolly’s question makes my


fingers still over the keyboard.
She’s standing in the doorway of her father’s office, the soft glow from
the bathroom throwing her expression into the shadows. I’m in a hurry. We
need to get what we can off his computer—bank information, contacts, any
other videos—and clear out of the house. It’s nearly three in the morning.
People are going to start getting up for work soon.
But her question freezes me. She’s strong. I don’t worry that she’ll
crumble beneath the weight of what we’re doing, but those were her
parents. This is her home. She’s bound to question our actions.
“Come here.” I crook my finger at her. She shuffles to me, her feet in
new shoes, dressed in black leggings and a button-down plaid blouse.
“I know we have to go,” she says, eyeing the computer in front of me. I
take her hands and squeeze them between my fingers.
“We have a little time.”
“I’m not scared,” she defends. “My thoughts are running around in
circles.”
“What can I do to help?” I run my thumb over her knuckles.
“Can I just sit here with you?”
“Of course.” I push back to give her room to sit on my lap. Instead of
climbing onto me, she sinks to the floor next to me and folds her legs
beneath her. Resting her head on my leg, she sighs. A calm runs through me
at the weight of her on me as I run my fingers over her temple, stroking her
while I go back to looking through the files on the hard drive.
It will be easier to copy them all and dive deeper back at the motel. I
open the drawers of the desk until I find a flash drive and plug it into the
computer. Her father was old school—no laptop to be found. He had the
video playing on a disc in her room, where are the others?
I keep stroking Dolly’s soft hair while taking in the rest of the office.
He’d keep them close, not scattered throughout the house. If she wasn’t
allowed in here, and he seemed to be a man who liked his own space, he
probably kept everything in one spot—in this room.
The bookshelves are lined with hardcover texts from floor to ceiling.
Other than the desk, there is no other furniture in the room. It really is
meant only for him. A door blends into the wall with the same dark
paneling. If the hinges weren’t visible, it would go unnoticed.
I pat Dolly’s head. “I have to get up for a second, honey.”
She straightens and turns her wide eyes up at me.
“I want to check out the other room.” I point toward the door, and her
gaze follows my finger.
With a crinkled brow, she shrugs. “It’s probably just a closet.”
I’m sure she’s right, but it’s what’s in the closet I want. I stand from the
chair and step over her. When she starts to get up, I motion for her to stay
where she is. I don’t know exactly what I’m going to find, and she doesn’t
need any more grotesque surprises.
The door makes no sound when it swings open. I feel up the inside wall
for a switch and turn on the light, illuminating a walk-in closet lined with
shelves. Stepping inside, my blood runs cold. Compact discs, hundreds of
them, line the shelves.
I slide one out.
Gabby – age six
A growl breaks free from my chest.
I pull another out.
Gabby – age five
My heart jackhammers in my ears. The first CD is marked with only her
name, no age. It’s sick that I’m standing among such perversion praying to
a God I discarded long ago that five years old is when he began. Please
don’t let the monster have ruined her from the very beginning of her life.
“Some of them aren’t me,” Dolly says from her spot at the desk. “Some
of them aren’t me. He calls all his girls Gabby.”
All his girls?
“Are there more? Other girls out there?” I ask stupidly. Did I think
finding her would be the end of the terror? That she was the lone victim?
She hesitates before nodding. She doesn’t like to make me upset and has
to know this knowledge isn’t going to sit well.
“Who are they? Where are they?”
“I don’t know. Sometimes he’d bring home a girl and I thought I was
going to get to play with someone, but they brought her in here instead. I
wasn’t allowed. After they were done, he took the girl home.” She casts her
eyes downward.
My grip cracks the plastic casing of the disk. “They?”
She sucks in a breath and nods again. “Mom played with her too.”
That woman did not deserve the kind ending she was given, but it’s too
late now.
My jaw snaps shut, and my teeth clench to keep my bellow of rage
inside. I will not scare Dolly. I shuffle back a step, and my foot kicks a box
on the floor. I push off the lid, my thirst for getting to the bottom of things
drowning me in more information than my heart is going to be able to
handle.
Money.
The entire file box is filled with bundles of cash. Hadn’t he said he
needed cash? Maybe it’s his payout from his transaction with Bossman.
Transaction. That’s how her father saw it, how Bossman looked at it.
Money for a product. No consideration that Dolly was a person—a living,
breathing, feeling being.
Where are all these girls? How did her father find them?
There could be clues on the discs. If I had the support of the department
behind me, it would take weeks to watch them all. I don’t have the time,
and my stomach can’t handle seeing more than I already have. There’s
room in the box for at least a dozen discs, so that’s all I take. I randomly
grab them and shove them inside with the cash before laying the cover back
on top.
Using my elbow, I turn off the light. I head back to the desk, kicking the
door shut behind me. The files finished transferring.
I toss the flash drive into the same box.
“Okay. Let’s get out of here.” I put my hand out to help her to her feet.
Her hand is cold as she places it in mine.
“Are you okay?” I drop the box on the desk and pull her to me,
wrapping my arms around her and kissing her head. Facing him has drained
her.
“I’m fine. Just chilly in here.” She pushes her hands against my chest
and tilts her chin to look up at me. Her eyes are wide and clear. “We’re
going to help the other girls?”
“We’re going to do our best,” I vow. If we can find the leader, the one
who pulled Bossman’s strings, we might be able to take down the ring. We
might be able to save a few more girls. I’m not crazy enough to believe we
can save them all. My hero complex died years ago after watching case
after case get filed away unsolved. But if we can find as many as possible,
then we’re doing good work.
“Okay.” She nods firmly and steps away from me. “Then let’s get out of
here so we can get to work.” Determination blossoms in her eyes. She’s not
as weak as she believes. Not even close. But it’ll take more time for her to
see that.
It’s a good thing I’m a patient man.
She follows me out of the office and down the hall to the front door. I
step outside while she resets the alarm and closes the door, joining me on
the front porch.
“Do you still have the gun?” I ask her after putting the box in the truck.
She lifts up her t-shirt to show me the Glock tucked into her leggings. I
grin at how adorable she is.
“Safety’s still on, right?” I dip my chin a bit, trying to give a stern look.
She rolls her eyes.
“Of course. I don’t want to shoot my damn foot off.” She hops up into
the truck and pulls the belt over her chest. “I’m hungry. Can we get
pancakes?” She yanks her door shut, but stops it before it slams. We’re still
trying to stay quiet.
I situate myself in the driver’s seat and take her hand, bringing it to my
lips. Blood stains her cuticles.
“Of course we can,” I promise, then fire up the truck, tucking her hand
into my lap.
As we turn onto the highway, heading back to the motel, she squeezes
my thigh. “I’ve never been to a pancake house,” she says wistfully. Hope
blooms in her words.
“There’s one right by the motel. Let’s get cleaned up, then stop there,” I
say, hitting the gas harder.
My girl wants pancakes, and she’s going to damn well get them.

OceanofPDF.com
NINETEEN

OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY

B
at me.
utter melts over the top of my stack of pancakes, and I lean forward to
inhale the sweet smell of it. When I sit back with a smile, Ken stares

“What?” I’m acting weird. I know it, but I can’t help myself. The
vibrancy of the world has finally hit me. It’s like I’ve been living in a black
and white version of reality and the color returned all at once.
He shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “Nothing, honey.” He stabs his
eggs, then shovels them into his mouth.
I pick up my fork and knife and get busy cutting the pancakes into bite
sized pieces so I can smother them with maple syrup.
“Can I get you anything else?” Our waitress pours more coffee into
Ken’s cup. Her brown apron has smudges all over her stomach, probably
from leaning over tables all day long. Several strands of hair have fallen out
of her bun, and there’s a shadow beneath her eyes. She must be at the end of
her shift.
“No thanks. I think we’re good.” I look at Ken, because maybe he wants
something else and spoke too soon. He gives me an approving nod.
“Actually, is there a newspaper around?” I look at Ken again. “Maybe
we can go to the movies this afternoon.”
“Yep, have them up front. Let me get one for you.” The waitress
disappears.
“I’m sorry. Maybe I should have asked you first.” I lower my gaze.
He reaches across the table with his fork and pokes my wrist. “Eyes
up,” he commands, waiting for me to comply. “You don’t have to ask about
stuff like that. If you want to see a movie this afternoon, we’ll go to a
movie. You’re not a prisoner with me, Dolly.”
“I didn’t think that,” I say too loudly. Readjusting my tone, I continue.
“You don’t treat me like that.” He needs to understand I’m sitting with him
because it’s what I want, not because he’s forcing me.
His lips soften at the edges, but worry lingers in his dark eyes.
“No one is going to treat you like that ever again.” It’s a promise he’s
made several times. My heart can tell he means it, but my brain knows he
can’t keep away all the evil in the world forever.
“Can I ask you something?” I shove a forkful of pancakes into my
mouth. The butter runs over my tongue mixed with the syrup in a gooey,
delicious mess. I could drink this for the next week.
“Sure. Anything.” He sips his coffee.
I swallow and grab for my orange juice. “Why did you become a police
officer?” In a world where he could be anything, why work every day
facing the scum of the earth?
He puts his fork down on the plate and leans back in the booth. His
chest expands with his breath.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.” I take another large bite
of the fluffy breakfast to keep from prying more.
The waitress drops the newspaper on our table as she passes. Ken pulls
it toward him and holds it while he waits for me to look at him again. When
he pauses like that, it’s because he wants my full attention. He won’t speak
until he has it.
“I majored in computer science when I went to college. I was going to
get a big job with the FBI one day working in forensics—you know, hack
the big computer, track down the bank hackers.” He rolls his eyes like his
youth is something to be embarrassed about. “My junior year, my mom
went missing. Just vanished.” His fingers crinkle the edges of the paper.
“She left work and never made it home. The search went on for weeks. No
one saw anything. No video footage in the parking lot at the company she
worked for. No real evidence of foul play.”
“Like me,” I whisper. No one would think anything of not seeing me
around. I rarely went out other than going to class. No real friends, no social
media…no one to notice I disappeared.
“Yeah.” His voice scrapes out of his throat. “I came home from school
to search for her. The police gave up and filed it away as an unsolved case.”
He sips his coffee and places the cup back down with less care than usual.
“A year later, they did find her. A shallow grave in the forest preserve near
the airport. She’d been raped and murdered.” His jaw sets firm. Years of
anger and sadness over his mother’s death deepen the crease around his
frown.
“You went into police work so you could find her killer?” I keep my
voice low. More people have filed into the diner since we sat down.
“I wanted to find all the killers,” he deadpans. “I thought if they hadn’t
quit looking for her, they would have found her before she was killed.”
Another long sip of his coffee. “That was before I knew how the system
actually worked.” He scoffs. “I was an idiot, hurting and angry. I was going
to save the fucking world. But the world isn’t salvageable.” He points to my
plate. “I want you to eat all that up.”
I take another bite, letting what he told me swirl around my head.
“You still want to find the other girls though, right?” If he truly thinks
the world can’t be saved, he wouldn’t have been so angry when he saw
those discs. He wouldn’t have helped me rid myself of my parents.
“Of course I do.” He drains the last of his coffee and puts the mug at the
edge of the table along with his plate. “I guess a little bit of me still wants to
save everyone from the bad guys. It’s why I ran to you when I saw the
video. I needed to get to you.”
I swallow the last bite of my pancakes. My stomach stretches to
accommodate the amount of food I’ve eaten. It’s been too long since I’ve
felt so full.
“And you did get to me,” I remind him. “And we’ll find these other
girls. And we’ll get rid of the bad guys.”
“We can’t get rid of all the bad guys in the world, Dolly.” His frown
deepens. “But I won’t let anyone who’s hurt you get away with it.”
“What about the police? Won’t they find our fingerprints at my house?
And the playroom? Won’t they start looking for us?” It occurs to me he’s on
the other side of the law now. He has his detective skills, but not his badge.
We aren’t going to be understood as the good guys.
He lifts a shoulder like he’s not bothered by the prospect.
“I’m not worried about it.”
“How can you not be worried about it? They’ll know we were there.
They’ll know it was us. They’ll find us.” I flatten my hands on the table,
pressing down hard.
He arches a brow. “We’re two towns away and haven’t used any
electronic payments, only cash. The motel is nice, but not nice enough to
have security cameras littering the hallways. And the truck is registered to
Bossman.”
Ken won’t tell me their real names, but he knows them. I’m sure one of
them is the contact my father has in his cell phone. The name my father
gave us—Mortimer. Yeah, Bossman looked like a Mortimer.
“When they find your parents and they dust the place, they’ll find our
prints, yes. But they’ll also find the closet with all the CDs,” Ken explains.
Another thought sinks into my stomach. “People will watch them?
They’ll see what I did.” Heat rises to my cheeks.
“Dolly.” His hard tone makes me snap my attention back to him.
“They’ll see the torture your father put you through, the other girls through.
Nothing else.”
“But—”
He points a finger at me, stilling my objection. “No more talk of guilt.
You carry none of it.”
The waitress stops by and picks up his plate. “Ready for the check, or
would you like more coffee?” It’s a question, but she doesn’t ask it that
way.
“Just the check,” Ken answers, not pulling his gaze from mine. He’s
back to being bossy.
I like him that way.
“What movie do you want to see?” He opens the newspaper, and the
front page flashes in front of me.
The playhouse stares at me. A wrecking ball looms in front of the
upstairs bedroom window. The room with the extra clothes. The room
across the hall from the playroom.
The headline screams at me.
AIRPORT EXPANSION FINALLY UNDERWAY.

OceanofPDF.com
TWENTY

OceanofPDF.com
KENDOLL

“Y ou’re not a khaki kind of guy.” Dolly scrunches her nose at the
pair of pants I pulled from the rack. While she had found plenty
of clothes for herself, plus what she grabbed from her bedroom, I was still
sporting the same jeans I had on the day we escaped and managed to spill
enough popcorn onto my lap at the movies to stain them. Not a high priority
considering what we learned at breakfast, but it’s helping to keep Dolly’s
mind off everything.
“No?” I look back at the straight-legged corporate attire. “You’re right.”
I shove the hanger between two others on the overcrowded rack.
Dolly flips through the items and pulls out a pair of jeans with rips on
the thighs and the knee cut out of one leg.
I laugh. “Can we find a pair that’s not missing any pieces?” I pick up
the leg with the hole.
She raises her eyebrows. “It’s in fashion. I’ve seen lots of boys wearing
stuff like this on campus.”
I frown. How much of her college career was spent locked away at
home or in a library?
“I’m no college boy,” I remark.
She searches me for a long moment, her gaze wandering up and down
my body. “I guess not.”
“What’s that mean?” The lighthearted jab lifts the worry from inside
me. She’d been wound tight after the news article in the paper showed the
playhouse about to be demolished. With her fingers tapping on the tabletop
at the diner, I sped through the words until I was able to assure her there
was nothing to worry about.
The demolition was underway, but in wrecking the house, they would
most likely destroy any evidence of our involvement. It was the only lie I
told her, but until I knew more about what was happening over there, it
made no sense to keep her wound up in panic.
She lifts her shoulder in a dramatic shrug. “Only that you’re old.”
I lunge for her, grabbing her waist and pulling her to me, pinching her
belly until she squeals.
“How old do you think I am?” I ask, releasing her. The salesclerk has
made an appearance, and I don’t like audiences.
She wipes the hair from her face, her smile lighting up my soul. Even
with the fluorescent lighting trying to drown her in harsh rays, she outshines
everything in the room.
“Fifty?” she teases, ducking behind the rack, out of reach, but not too
far away.
“Oh, I think you’ll have to pay for that,” I warn with a smirk.
“Okay, forty-nine?”
My stomach rumbles with laughter. “Not a day over thirty-two.” I dip
my chin and look at her with a mock sternness.
She laughs, a full body trembling laugh, and the sound could not be
more like heaven.
I grab a few pairs of jeans—with no holes or tears—and motion her to
the register. “Let’s get out of here.”
Her bottom lip tucks between her teeth, still grinning at me.
I shake my head at her. “No more trouble.” I point a finger in her
direction. “You still need to pay for your little joke about my age. Don’t
make it worse.”
Her cheeks redden. “How much worse?” she whispers as we wind our
way around the clothing racks.
I reach down and grasp her hand, squeezing tight. “Well, naughty girls
typically get spankings where I come from.” I haven’t spanked a woman in
years. Hell, I haven’t been serious with one in even longer. But Dolly isn’t
any woman, and my suggestion may have made my cock hard, but I could
scare her.
“Well, I suppose I was a little naughty.” She tightens her fingers around
my hand. I pull us to a stop when we get to the register, before the cashier is
in ear shot.
“Dolly, I didn’t mean it for real. I would never hurt you.”
Her smile fades. “You…you don’t want to spank me?” Her dilated
pupils give me an inside look into her mind.
“Oh, I do, but I don’t want to hurt you.”
She sighs and tugs my arm hard. “You won’t.” She’s determined. “No
one’s ever done that with me, Ken. It’s always been against my will and for
bad reasons.”
Her point resonates.
“Then let’s get back to the room.” I pull her up to the register and toss
the jeans down on the counter.
We’re back in the motel in short order. Dolly walks to the middle of the
room and turns to me, eyes wide with expectation. I kick the door closed
and throw the lock, not that anyone in this place will be bothering us.
Tossing the bag of jeans onto the desk, I make my way to her. Her gaze
never leaves mine. She’s biting her plump, pink lip between her teeth again.
“So.” I rest my hands on her shoulders. She’s still slim, it will take time
to get weight back on her, but she’s perfect.
“I teased you about your age,” she prompts when I don’t continue.
The perfect hue of pink tints her cheeks as she nods. Her hair is loose
around her shoulders, so I brush the locks back.
“I’ll never hurt you,” I tell her. There was a time when the cries and
yelps from a woman beneath my hand drove my libido, but I won’t chance
harming Dolly. Not ever.
“You won’t hurt me.” She picks up my arm and brings my hand to her
mouth, placing a tender kiss to my palm. “Every time they hit me, it was
from anger, from sick pleasure of taking what wasn’t theirs. You won’t do
that to me.” She kisses my palm again, licking along the line arching toward
my thumb. “Replace the bad with the good.”
She doesn’t want me soft around the edges, which is good, because I
don’t think I can be with her. I want her mewls and cries. I want to own her
pain and gift her with pleasure. I aim to own everything about her, and the
desire building in her eyes as my hands roam down her arms holds promise
for what she’ll give me.
I sit on the edge of the bed, throwing her across my knees. She gasps,
but doesn’t try to get up. Flattening her hands on the floor, she tips herself
farther downward, lifting her ass higher for me.
I flip her t-shirt up her back and yank down her leggings. There are
faded scars on her ass, the skin marred and painted with horrors of her past.
I’m going to wash them all away and paint a new beginning on her flesh.
“If you need me to stop, you just say so. Just say stop.” If she so much
as hints at it, I’ll heed the warning. I will not put her through anything that
doesn’t bring her the joy she deserves.
“I will,” she promises, craning her head around so she can look up at
me. Cheeks flushed from her positioning and her smile wide, she’s ready.
I’m not even going to pretend not to love this. My cock is hard and
pressing against her. Once her ass is nice and pink, I’m going to fuck the
hell out of her.
Her ass is warm beneath my hand as I run it over her cheeks. The first
smack makes her jolt, but she keeps silent. I drag my hand over her cheeks
and bring my hand down hard again, watching the little bounce of her ass.
Fuck. My dick twitches.
Steady and firm, I pepper her ass with spanks. Her right leg slips from
my lap, spreading her for me. When she clenches from the impact, her
pussy presses into leg, dampening my jeans. Each yelp and moan feeds into
my craving for more, until finally she gifts me with a low groan.
I stop spanking her, soaking in the deep crimson of her ass. Shoving her
leggings down farther, I yank them from her legs, which she spreads
immediately for me. She pushes her feet to the floor and arches until her ass
is lifting off my lap, her pussy on display for me.
The spanking, an appetizer to the fun, is over. I slide my hand up from
her knee to the warmth between her legs. She’s soaked for me. Pressing two
fingers to her entrance has her moaning again, louder, deeper than when I
was spanking her.
“You like this?” I ask, dipping my middle finger into her pussy up to my
second knuckle.
“Yes,” she says breathlessly. I could keep her like this all day, spanking
and playing with her, letting her create music for me with her cries and
yelps. But her pussy contracts around my finger, and I want to be enveloped
in her heat.
I plunge two fingers fully inside and pump in and out of her while she
wiggles her hips for me. It’s not too much—no, she’s whining because it’s
not enough. She wants the burn and stretch my cock will bring her.
She only needs to ask.
“Do you want something, Dolly?” I grab her ass cheek with my left
hand and pull it away. Her asshole peeks up at me between her red globes
as her pussy opens wider.
“Ken.” She sucks in air as I bend my fingers, playing with the secret
spot inside her that makes her toes curl.
“You have to ask, Dolly.” I grin down at her, even though she’s given up
trying to see me. Her hair covers her face as she stares at the floor beneath
her.
“Ken, please. Fuck me.” There’s no tremor in her voice, only
determination and need.
I remove my fingers from her and flip her off my lap and onto the bed.
While she scrambles out of her shirt, I climb out of my clothes. I’m naked,
and she’s lying on the bed, propped up on her elbows, watching me like
prey waiting to be eaten.
Grabbing her ankle, I pull her closer to the end of the bed before I climb
over her. Skin to skin, we lie. I trail kisses up her body, between her breasts,
along her jaw, until I reach the tender spot behind her ear. I nip and lick.
Her hands are everywhere on me, feeling me as though she wants to
never forget me. She arches upward, kissing my shoulder, framing my face
and drawing me back to her until she can press her mouth against mine.
She began, but I will lead. My tongue sweeps past her lips, taking us
deeper and harder. My cock presses against her pussy, and I reach between
our bodies, rubbing her clit until she breaks free of my kiss to cry out in
pleasure. Lining my cock up with her entrance, I look down at her.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” I tell her. And it’s not
bullshit. Not a line to get down her pants, or a lustful statement to further
our libidos. It’s the truth. Plain and simple.
A blush overtakes her cheeks. “I’m just me,” she whispers.
“And you’re everything,” I say, plunging my cock into her hard while
taking her mouth in another passion-fueled kiss.
Her warmth surrounds me, pulling me deeper as I begin to thrust. I can’t
get enough of her. Her kisses, her touches, her pussy—all of her melds into
me as I fuck her harder and harder.
She pulls her legs up, gripping my cock harder.
“Fuck,” I groan, breaking off the kiss and pumping into her faster.
“Fuck.”
Her nails dig into my shoulders. “Behind, Ken. Fuck me from behind.”
Any ability I had to argue went out the window the moment my dick
slid inside her. I nod so she knows I heard her and slip out. She scrambles to
her hands and knees, fitting herself in front of me. Her ass, still pink,
wiggles at me while she grins at me over her shoulder.
“Not soft,” she orders, and I almost snap. Yes, ma’am.
Gripping her hips, I don’t waste any time giving my girl what she wants
—what she demanded. One thrust, and I’m balls deep inside her. My nails
bite her skin as I plow into her.
The bed squeaks, but it’s drowned out by Dolly’s grunts. She grabs the
headboard to steady herself as my cock drives into her.
I grip her hair, fisting it and pulling her head back until she’s groaning
louder.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she chants.
Slipping around her waist, I find her clit. She didn’t want gentle, and
she’s not going to get it. Not from me.
I’m an asshole.
I want this to hurt.
I want her to take the pain and mold it into something beautiful for me.
Pinching her clit gets a rile from her. She bucks up, but she can’t get
away. I release her hair, gripping her bundle of nerves again.
“Ken!” she screams, but not in the horrific way I’ve heard her cry out
before. No, she’s doing exactly what I want her to do: she’s accepting it.
Her cunt clenches around my cock. Hot, wet, and tight, she’s torturing
me in her own way—in the best of ways.
“Are you going to be a good girl for me now?” I ask, bucking my hips
and driving her forward on the bed. She stumbles forward, but I won’t let
her rest, not yet. I yank her head back until she’s off her hands, dangling
above the mattress.
“Yes. Yes. Yes. Good girl.” The words come out as she sucks in air.
“You’re close, aren’t you? My girl wants to come?” I tease her clit,
gentling my touches while plowing into her from behind.
“Yes. Please…oh, fuck, please, Ken.” She swings her arms behind her,
grabbing onto me, trying to hug me to her.
I shove her back down, face into the pillow.
“Ass up.” I release her hair to smack her ass. She groans. “Higher,” I
demand, smacking her again. A tremor works its way through her body,
vibrating on my cock.
“Like that. Good girl,” I croon, stroking her clit, alternating between
hard and soft until she’s bucking back at me with as much fervor as I could
hope for. She’s chasing her release.
She’s so open and telling with her desires. I’ll never her let her be
shoved into a box again. Out where she’s wild and free—that’s where she
lives now.
“Ken!” She screams into the pillow. Her pussy clenches tight, then
releases in a wave of spasms that dissolve the very last bit of restraint I
have.
I pump into her tightness again and again, then still as my body releases
from my control. My vision darkens, and the sounds of the room warp into
strung out waves.
I collapse on her, but brace myself with my hands so I don’t crush her.
Her labored breathing mingles with a soft sigh. I kiss her cheek, and a smile
tugs at her lips.
“You okay?” I ask, slipping from her body. I blanket her with my body.
“So much better than okay,” she assures me.
I brush a lock of hair from her forehead.
“Think you learned your lesson?” She brings out the corny jokes from
me. She laughs, so I’ll forgive her for it.
“I’ll never accuse you of being fifty again.” She tries to pull off a
serious face, but it cracks. “Next time, I might assume sixty.”
I fall to her side and grab her into a hug. My cum is leaking from her
and getting all over the bed, but I don’t give a fuck. I have my girl in my
arms, and she’s smiling and sated.
What could be better than that?

OceanofPDF.com
TWENTY-ONE

OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY

P otato chips can solve almost any problem, I’ve learned in the days I’ve
been with Ken outside the playhouse. Mom and Dad never kept any in
the house, and I wasn’t allowed to eat such treats anyway. They would
fatten me up, and I needed to stay trim. For health reasons they said, but I
know better now. Daddy needed to keep me small so I could be the perfect
dolly for him and others.
“Careful, you’re going to get a stomachache,” Ken warns me as he
returns from the bathroom.
I pop the last chip in my mouth and crumple the bag in my hands.
“Aren’t you bored?” I ask him, swinging my legs off the bed. It’s been
two days since the playhouse was demolished, and I’m taking no news as
good news. Nothing in the papers or the news reports mentions anything
about the playhouse or my parents being found.
“I found something interesting.” Ken clicks the laptop to life. He’s been
going through all the stuff he downloaded from Daddy’s computer. I went
to the cafe across the street to get us donuts while he watched the videos.
He didn’t want me to see them, and I had no inclinations to disagree.
“What?” I toss the chip bag in the trash.
He turns the computer toward me. “Queenhearts is still active on the
web.”
My blood runs cold, freezing me for a moment. “You can see her?” I
ask once the shock thaws enough. “Can she see you? She knows what you
look like,” I rush out, worried.
“No, it’s okay. I have a user ID and no pictures. People don’t like
putting their faces on these sorts of sites. I don’t have a picture of her either,
but I can see her activity.” He points to the list of logins on the screen.
“She’s been watching old sessions on the Dolly for Hire site.”
I wrap my arms around my middle. “You didn’t take the videos down?”
He’s been letting other people see all the horrible things I did while I was in
the playroom. Men and women were still having fun at my expense.
Laughing at me. Using me for their benefit.
His hands on my waist pull my focus back to him.
“I didn’t because I wanted to watch the activity.” His voice is soft, like
I’m a scared kitten who will run away if he gets too loud. Even kittens have
claws.
“I don’t want people watching!” I shove his hands away from me. “I
want them taken down. Now! No one gets to watch me anymore. No one!”
He stands from his chair and wraps his arms around me, holding me tight.
“Okay, okay.” He runs his hand over my hair. “We can shut down the
feeds. I have what I need. I found her.”
My anxiety stills.
“Why did you let people—?”
“I needed to trace her, and the best way to do that was to let her keep
watching. Dragonmate, too. But he hasn’t been on lately.”
I ease out of his embrace. “If you shut down the feeds, you won’t be
able to see him?”
“Not on the site, but I might be able to track him down through other
sites.” He rubs his forehead. “It’s been a long time since I’ve worked on
computers like this. I mostly just play around. It would be easier if I could
get into the state database, but if I use my login, the station will know. And I
don’t know if they are looking for me or not.”
There’s been no mention of his disappearance or his partner’s.
“Can’t we throw them off? Go further out, say a hundred miles, then
you can do your thing and we come back? If they see your login, they can
trace it, right? It would trace them away from here.”
He rubs his hands over his jaw. The little stubble from before has grown
into a full beard. It gives him a rugged look, like he spends his days
chopping down trees.
“First, let’s visit Queenhearts. I read the logs. She and Dragonmate were
responsible for the last special request. They pulled their money together.”
He pauses a breath. “Fifty thousand to see you slice me.”
My heart stops.
“They wanted me to kill you?” I shake my head. “I never would have
done that.”
He raises his brows. “They figured that too. If you didn’t cooperate,
they would pay another twenty-five for Bossman to do it and make you
watch. Then…” He clamps his mouth shut.
“Then what? What were they going to do that night?” I won’t let him
keep this from me. I get to know everything he knows. It’s my right.
“Then they were going to paint you with my blood and rape you while
you dangled from the ropes on the ceiling.” He’s not telling me everything,
but I fill in the gaps myself. They had suspended me before, turning me into
a marionette.
“And she’s the one who requested it?”
“Both of them did. I can’t tell whose idea it was, but we can ask her.”
His lips curve at the edges. “We can ask her everything when we see her.”
“How do you know where she is?”
“I don’t. But I know where she’ll be.”
I frown. “You’re playing games. Just tell me.”
“She frequents another site, one where you can actually meet up with
people for her idea of playtime. I put in a bid to be her plaything. If she
accepts it, we’ll set a time and place to meet.” He rubs his hands together.
I sink down onto the edge of the bed. Queenhearts wanted me to kill my
Ken. She wanted to see me tortured—paid to have me raped and hurt. And
I’m going to be in the same room with her. A live person. Her heart will be
beating, pumping when we say our hellos. By the time I leave her, it will be
still and silent in my hand.
“When?”
“If she accepts the bid, I’m going to set it up for tonight. And if she
can’t give us the information we need on Dragonmate, we’ll head out of
town like you suggested. Once we’re in a safe spot, I can tap into the
database and get what I can. We probably only have one chance to do it
before we set off a search.”
“What happens when we’re done? When they’re gone—what happens
to us then?”
He cups my chin, tilting my head back. “Then we start over.”
“People will look for us.”
He shakes his head. “We can worry about that later.” The computer
dings, and he pulls away. “She answered.”
I hold my breath while he clicks on the computer.
“Fuck, yes,” he mumbles and starts typing. “She accepted. We’re going
to meet tonight at ten o’clock.”
I bite my lip, trying not to smile so wide. It’s not polite to find joy in
someone else’s misery.
But I can’t seem to stop the giddy giggle from escaping me.
“We need more tools.” I get up from the bed. “We can’t just have a gun.
We need more.”
Ken laughs. “Don’t worry, we’ll get everything we need.”
My heart lightens. “We’re really going to see her tonight?” We might as
well be planning a dinner with Santa, my heart beats with such joy.
“Yes, Dolly.” He squats down in front of me, pulling my hands into his.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the feeds were still up.”
No one has ever apologized to me before. Pain settles in his eyes as he
stares at me. He’s hurt me, and it’s brought him pain too.
“You were doing what you had to in order to find them.” I lean forward
and press my lips against his in a quick peck that tickles because of his
beard. “You weren’t trying to hurt me.”
“But it’s my job to protect you. I shouldn’t do anything that hurts you.”
He’s going to beat himself up if I let him.
“We protect each other,” I correct him. “Now we know where she is,
and soon, we’ll know about Dragonmate.”
The sides of his lips curl up. “You’re amazing.”
“I’m just me,” I say, like I do every time he compliments me. I’m
nothing special, but he’ll learn that eventually. In the meantime, it’s nice to
see the softness of his smile and the light brighten his eyes.
What happened to him in that playroom…no one should ever
experience it. I had come to terms with it. As horrific as every moment was,
how much I wanted each breath to be my last, it wasn’t anything new to me.
But Ken didn’t grow up that way. He was a hero, not a victim. And those
men tried to put him in the victim mold.
“Dolly.” His fingers tighten around my hands. “Those feeds, those
videos, have been on the web a long time. There’s a good chance they’re
still all over the place. I’m not sure I’ll be able to track them all down.”
I search his eyes, finding a safe place to hide. It’s not a matter of if
they’re still out there. There’s no possibility they haven’t been copied and
uploaded to other sites.
“I know,” I whisper, my throat raw from the burn of reality. “I’m sure
Daddy didn’t send his videos just to Bossman. I heard him talking to Mom
a few times.” I pull my hands from his grip and cover my face. “I was so
stupid. So fucking stupid. I should have run away. I had plenty of chances.
Why didn’t I run away?”
“Hey! Hey.” He grabs my wrists and uncovers my face. “You survived.
That’s all you had to do, and you did it.” His forehead wrinkles, and his lips
thin out.
“I did,” I agree. I’m sure there’s a deeper explanation. A girl, abused
since childhood, has plenty of ways to get away, but never does. Leaving
was scarier than staying, I suppose. There were monsters lingering out in
the shadows, and Daddy protected me from them. Because there are worse
people than Daddy. Like Queenhearts.
“Now we make her pay, right?” I ask. People like her won’t ever stop
the horror they spread. The only way to put an end to her actions is to end
her.
He flashes me a bright smile. “Yeah.”
I grab onto that thought—of her pain, her cries as we drain her of the
pathetic life she holds dear. I don’t know everything she requested with
Ken, but I remember every fucking thing she wanted done to me.
“What about the others? There were so many people.” I don’t want to
let any of them get away.
“It could take us a lifetime to find them all.” He’s the realistic one. It’s
why I depend on him, why I love him so much. He’s the solid one while
I’m the wobbly leg.
“We deserve peace.” I nod.
“I think you should get some rest. We aren’t meeting her until late
tonight.”
I run my fingertips along his jaw. “You know the best way to help me
take a nap?”
The right side of his mouth tilts up. “I do.”
I push myself onto the bed, settling on the pillows. As soon as the bed
dips beneath his weight, I pull my long t-shirt above my hips and spread my
legs for him. His mouth finds the right spot without hesitation.
Will I ever get used to how easily he plays my body?
“Oh fuck,” I moan, deciding I don’t care.
OceanofPDF.com
TWENTY-TWO

OceanofPDF.com
KENDOLL

T his motel needs an ice machine on the upper floor. We should be


prepping to leave, but Dolly wants ice for her soda and I can’t seem to
tell that woman no.
Stepping off the last stair with the ice bucket in my hand, I swing
around the railing to head to the machine. My eyes land on a black sedan
parked right outside the front office, and my heart slams into my chest.
The door to the office opens, and I jump behind the vending machine.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck
Holding my breath, I glance around the machine to see who’s walking
out of the office.
My head blanks.
I nearly drop the ice bucket.
Pierce.
He stops outside the office, letting the door close behind him, and slides
a pair of sunglasses on. We were so careful. He couldn’t have tracked us
down here.
He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and swipes the screen. While
tapping on the phone, he walks to his car. Once his back is to me, I lurch for
the stairs. Taking them two at a time, I rush up to the room Dolly’s waiting
for me in.
“Dolly, we have to go.” I burst into the room.
She’s standing outside the bathroom, her toothbrush hanging out of her
mouth.
“We need to go. Now.” I wave my hand for her to hurry the fuck up.
She can rinse later.
Her eyes go wide.
“Dolly. A cop is downstairs. A cop I worked with. We need to go now.”
Realization hits her, and she’s in full swing.
I check the window, peeling the curtain back just enough to see out. I
can’t see the car from our room, but I can see the stairs easily. So far, empty.
“What do we take?” she asks me, shoving her feet into her shoes.
“As much as we can carry. Try not to leave anything behind. We can’t
make a second trip. Once we’re in the truck, we’re going.”
“Okay.” She pulls the duffel bag we filled back at the playhouse out of
the closet. “Okay, Almost.” She runs around, grabbing socks and the clothes
we bought, adding them to the bag while I start packing up the computer. I
couldn’t give a shit if Pierce gets ahold of our underwear, but the computer
has everything we need on it.
“Ready,” she announces, running to the door, the stuffed duffel bag
hauled over her shoulder.
Carrying the laptop and box of drives, I meet her at the door.
“You stay behind me, understand? Do not move without my order.”
She scrunches up her lips. Although she likes my bossy side, sometimes
it pisses her off. Those are the best times, but we don’t have time to delve
into that.
I peek out again. Still clear.
I open the door slowly, half expecting Pierce to push his way in with
guns aimed at our heads.
“There’s no one there,” Dolly says when I still don’t move.
“Okay, let’s go, but stay close to the building.” My gun is tucked into
my jeans, but with my hands full, I might not be able to pull it out fast
enough. We need to be fast.
“I got it.” She nudges me with her shoulder. Now she’s getting bossy. I
raise my eyebrows, holding her gaze steady in mine until she sighs. “I got
it, Ken. Really.” She’s starting to get back some spunk, and I like it. I don’t
want her to lose it ever again, but there are times she’s going to have to
follow my orders without hesitation. I can’t protect us if I have to worry
about her running off on a rogue mission.
Convinced she’s on board with getting to the truck, I give her a sharp
nod and we head out. Pressed against the building as best we can carrying
all the crap we have, we get to the stairs. I stop her and take a look around
to be sure Pierce isn’t trying to come from behind to surprise us.
I was careful. Used cash and fake names when we checked in. How the
hell did he even find us? The man didn’t strike me as the sort of cop who
could figure his way out of a donut shop.
“Once we get to the bottom of the stairs, we have to get to the truck. Do
you remember where it’s parked?” I ask, but don’t give her time to answer.
“It’s right against the building. Run and get inside.” I shift the weight of my
cargo to my left arm and dig out my keys. We’re close enough for me to
unlock the cabin.
“Okay, just run and get in. Got it,” she says, her eyes trained on the
stairs. She’s ready to bolt.
Readjusting everything in my arms, keys at the ready, I take the first
step. “Let’s go.” Making sure she’s right behind me, I charge down the
stairs.
Our steps echo in my mind as we hurry down to the main level of the
motel. Once at the bottom, I pause only for a breath to line up the truck in
my view before hurrying toward it. Dolly cries out behind me, and I still.
She slips on a puddle of oil in the parking lot. The bag she’s holding spills
out, and she grabs for the clothes.
“Leave it. It’s fine,” I urge her. “We’ll get more. Don’t worry,” I say
again when she seems intent on collecting it all.
Finally, she grabs the bag and rushes to the truck, passing me in the
process. We throw open our doors and toss everything into the back of the
cab before climbing in.
“Did he see us?” she asks, her breath coming in short bursts as she looks
out the back window for him. If he didn’t see us run across the lot, he
shouldn’t see the truck, but I can’t see his position from where we’re
parked.
I jam the key into the ignition and start the truck.
“Let’s just get out of here.” I throw the truck into reverse and pull out of
the spot, lining us up with the exit. Dolly hadn’t turned the radio off when
we parked. Music fills the silent space with its heavy beats and steady
rhythm.
I hit the gas, propelling us toward the main road. As I near the exit, a
man steps out from between the last two cars, and I slam on the brake.
Dolly’s hands hit the dashboard to protect herself from smashing into it.
I raise my gaze to the man. His eyes are wide, his mouth frozen open.
Recognition sweeps through his eyes, and the shock of almost being run
over morphs into confusion. His brow wrinkles, his mouth twists
downward.
“That’s him?” Dolly asks, panic in her tone. “Go!” she urges me, hitting
the dash with her palm.
Pierce’s gaze sweeps from me to Dolly, and the wrinkles in his forward
deepen. He tilts his head to the side slightly.
He wasn’t expecting to see us.
Scenarios tumble through my mind. Who was he looking for here? Does
he know anything about what was happening at the playhouse? Was he part
of it? Does he know who is?
Pierce recovers from the surprise of our meeting and steps to the side of
the truck, starting to make his way to my door. His hand sweeps beneath his
jacket where he carries his gun.
“Ken, please.” Dolly’s voice shakes.
As Pierce comes to my window, I hit the gas and peel out of the lot.
He’s left standing in the middle of the parking lot, staring at us as we drive
away. I check the mirrors to be sure he’s not jumping in his car before I turn
onto the main road. There’s no traffic, no other cars on the road. I don’t stop
driving, not even when the motel shrinks to a speck in the rearview.

OceanofPDF.com
TWENTY-THREE

OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY

“K en,” I say softly to his profile. Reaching across the center console
of the truck, I touch his arm. “What do we do now?” I ask.
The streetlamp above where we’re parked fills the truck with a soft
yellow glow. Ken’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles have
gone white, but he remains silent.
After we sped away from the motel, he explained he knew the man in
the parking lot. He didn’t think he’d come for us, but Ken couldn’t figure
out why he’d been there. What was he looking for if not us?
“Ken, it’s almost time to meet Queenhearts. If we don’t go, she’ll leave.
We’ll miss our chance.” I can’t miss this opportunity. It’s because of her
Ken’s body is littered with as many scars as it is. It’s because of her
requests, I was strung from the ceiling and used as a piñata, a pin cushion, a
rape dolly. Her entertainment became my nightmare.
Ken turns to look at the clock on the dash. “We have a little time still.”
“Shouldn’t we get there before her?” I push gently.
“No.” He shakes his head and reaches across the console for my hand.
Bringing it up to his mouth, he kisses the backs of my fingers. “She’ll get
there, and then we’ll follow her in.”
I bite down on my lip and nod. Arguing won’t help. Once he has a plan
in place, there’s no changing it. And I trust him. The tightness that was
making it hard to breathe loosens. I trust him completely.
“Okay.” I lean against my seat. “What’s the plan?”
He puts my hand in my lap and pats it. “The plan is to do what we said
we were going to do.” He turns the key in the ignition, firing up the engine.
We’ve been sitting in an empty parking lot behind a closed video store for
almost an hour. The sun’s gone from view, but an orangish pink still
decorates the edge of the sky. It’s what I focus on while he drives us
through town.
Shops are closing down for the evening. People have already gone
home to their families for supper. School’s been out for hours. Ken’s jaw
stays tight as he drives. I don’t think he even sees the other cars around us. I
keep my gaze on the horizon. On the pretty colors illuminating behind the
buildings as the other drivers whiz by us.
“Do you remember being a little boy?” I ask him when we come to an
empty playground. A swing dangles by one chain, and the merry-go-round
has fallen off the center track, leaving it useless.
He stops at a red traffic light and looks out my window at the scene
triggering my question.
“I do.” He lifts my hand in his and squeezes softly. “I wish you had
better memories. I wish I could go back and erase the bad shit from your
mind.”
He frowns.
“Me too. The bad stuff anyway. It wasn’t horrible all the time.” I pull
away when the light changes. “When it wasn’t bad, it was actually pretty
normal. I got to go to school so long as I didn’t cause trouble.” I lean my
head back against the headrest.
“I bet you got the best grades,” he says with a knowing grin.
“I did.” I nod. “I had to stay under the radar. No trouble. No calls home.
No reason for the school to deal with my parents.”
His smile slips a little.
“It’s okay.” I pull my feet up to the seat and tuck them beneath me. The
streetlights dim as we drive down the main road. “I never knew anything
different. And I never thought anyone would ever care.” I touch his leg,
letting my fingertips trail along the seam of his jeans. “Or that I would care
about someone else.”
He glances at me, his eyes sparkling.
“We’ll make new memories. Better ones to cover up all the bad shit.”
He’s not just saying words to fill the space between us. He means them.
This is his vow to me.
“Are we almost there?” The streetlamps have become scarce, and we’ve
entered another industrial area.
“Just a few more minutes.” He flips off the headlights and slows as he
turns down a narrow road. I shouldn’t have let him take on all the
responsibility of planning this all out. He needs me to be stronger. I have to
start helping him more. I’m capable of more.
Unbuckling my belt, I twist around to grab the small duffle bag on the
floor behind his seat, bringing it up to the front with me.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Checking supplies.” I unzip the bag and look through the tools we’ve
brought with us.
“We have everything,” he assures me.
“I know. I just want to see.” I pick up my knife, a hunting knife with a
thick wooden handle. The weight of the handle and blade balance perfectly,
my grip steady.
“It should be just around the corner.”
How does he keep all these maps in his head? He knows exactly where
he’s going. Maybe it’s from years of being a street cop before moving up to
detective. I wouldn’t be able to remember all these things.
As we turn at the next intersection, a small building comes into view.
Most of the other buildings are dark, but this little one has their lights on.
An office building among the factories. I grip the knife harder, my heart
pounds as I focus on the single car parked on the side of the building.
The truck slams to a stop, jerking me forward.
“Shit.”
My hand hits the dashboard, saving my face from the same fate.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, searching his features. His hands drop into his lap
and his face softens. When he looks at me, there’s despair filling his gaze.
“What is it?” I ask, leaning across the console and touching his face.
“I know that car.” His voice is a raw whisper, like he’s witnessing a
ghost crawl across the hood of the truck.
I look past him, at the sedan parked just outside the side entrance of the
building.
“That cop?” I ask. “From the motel?”
He swallows. “No.”
“Then who?”
“Cathy. My partner.”

OceanofPDF.com
TWENTY-FOUR

OceanofPDF.com
KENDOLL

“A re you sure?” Dolly asks, scrambling across the cabin to see out
my window. “Ken, she’s dead. You said they killed her.” She
pulls back and settles back in her seat. “Maybe it’s just a car that looks like
hers.”
“The plates,” I say, grabbing hold of the steering wheel again and
hitting the gas.
“Where are you going?” Dolly asks in a panic. “No. Ken, we have to go
back.” She twists in her seat to look out the back window as the building
fades in the rearview.
“Give me a second,” I snap. She ebbs back into her seat, pulling the belt
across herself to buckle back up. The tool bag has slipped to the ground at
her feet, but she’s still holding the knife. In a world of chaos, a world she
never asked to be part of but was forced at every turn, she holds onto the
weapon as a child holds tight to their teddy bear. It’s the thing that gives her
strength at the moment.
It shouldn’t be. That’s my job. I should be giving her my strength. But I
have to work this information out in my mind.
Pierce at the motel.
Cathy’s car at the play space.
What the fuck is going on and why can’t I make the puzzle pieces fit?
I’ve never had trouble before.
I pull the truck into the parking lot of a factory and park among dozens
of other cars. The factory is in full swing. Steam billows out of the towers
on the rooftop. Large windows are pushed out from the warehouse, letting
in some of the night’s cool air.
“Ken?” she asks in an uncertain tone.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, clenching my eyes closed.
“Give me a sec,” I say, softening my tone. This isn’t her fault, and I
don’t want her thinking she’s done anything wrong.
“Okay.” The leather crunches beneath her as she moves beside me.
Cathy’s car was left at the warehouse we arrived at together. Bossman
could have taken it, given it to someone else. Another jackoff in his crew?
My chest tightens at the memory of what I did to her. Her toe-curling
scream as I rammed my cock into her ass.
It doesn’t matter that I was forced. It means fuck all that I had no
choice. They fucking killed her anyway. And I helped them torture her.
Whoever the fuck is waiting for us in that building isn’t going to get off
as easy as Bossman. They are going to fucking hurt, scream the same way
Cathy did before I let them get close to death.
I throw the truck into gear and reverse out of the parking spot, stopping
to turn to Dolly.
“Change of plans,” I say. She scrunches up her lips, pressing them into a
determined line, and gives me a sharp nod.
The light from the factory shines through the windshield, illuminating
her face. Softness and determination rarely hold hands, but with Dolly, the
unexpected is the norm. Her lips lift into a gentle smile.
“Okay. Let’s go.” I hit the gas. “We’re going to wait to see who comes
out of the building. When we don’t show, they’ll leave. We’ll follow them,
see who’s behind all this,” I explain, though I don’t need to. Dolly trusts
me.
Two figures come into view when we get closer to the building.
Shadows move behind the car.
“They’re outside,” Dolly whispers excitedly. She presses her hands to
the dashboard, leaning forward, the hunting knife still steady in her grip.
I slow, keeping us hidden as best as I can. The doors of the car are open.
They’re leaving. We’re only ten minutes late. Impatient assholes.
“Maybe they’re scared it was a setup,” Dolly interjects my thoughts.
“Maybe they’re scared of getting caught if they stay too long.”
“That could be it.” I pull the truck into a driveway two buildings down.
Hopefully they aren’t paying attention to us as I make a U-turn and park
parallel to the building. I can see them, but if I’m lucky, they can’t see us.
Dolly has a better view with them on her side of the truck. “They’re
inside the car now. I think they’re leaving.”
I touch her knee. “We have to stay back, but we’ll follow them. Okay?”
“We’ll get them, Ken.” She tilts her head to the side. “We won’t let
them get away.” She’s making her own vow to me now. And with her at my
side, I know she’s right. They won’t get away.
“They’re going.” I shift gears and roll through the parking lot out onto
the street. Keeping their taillights in view, I maintain a steady speed so they
can’t make us out. Another car pulls out of a factory, getting between us.
“Fuck,” Dolly says.
“No. That’s good. Now they can’t see us as well. We’ll be fine,” I assure
her. She doesn’t comment, just sits back against her seat and twirls her knife
in her palm.
They take us back through town to the highway. It won’t be as easy to
tail them once we hit heavier traffic. Dolly’s staying quiet, probably
contemplating what she’ll be able to achieve once we have them alone in a
quiet space. I wish I could join her daydreams, but there’s more traffic than
I anticipated on the highway. My focus has to stay on Cathy’s car.
The exit for Lake Palos comes up, and I follow them down the ramp.
The streets become too familiar, but I keep up with them, watching as they
make every turn, being careful not to be spotted.
“This looks familiar.” Dolly breaks the silence. “I’ve been here before.”
“When?”
“I…I don’t remember. I was out of high school though, so maybe a year
ago?” She wiggles in her seat.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry.” When her memories get jumbled, she gets
anxious. It’s not her fault. So much of her time has been spent in the dark
over the past months, and who knows exactly how much of her life has
been hidden away from her. Locked in closets, cages, rooms—she may
think some of her life was normal, but I’m certain none of it was.
They turn down Cathedral Drive, and my stomach twists. We’re on
Cathy’s street. My mouth dries, and I have to force myself to slow down.
I’m getting too close, too eager to find out who the fuck’s in that car. Why
are they going to Cathy’s house?
The speed of the truck is barely registering on the speedometer. Cathy’s
car pulls into her driveway and parks outside the closed garage door. I
maneuver behind a parked car and tap the brake, stopping us four houses
down. The soft purr of the engine fills in the silence as I focus on the doors
opening.
The passenger steps out. The garage security lights flip on, casting his
face in a spotlight, and my breath sticks in my throat.
The driver side door opens. The security lighting isn’t as helpful, but it’s
enough—too much.
“Who is it?” Dolly asks when I stay silent. Betrayal has my tongue tied,
my vocal cords paralyzed.
“Ken.” Dolly grabs my arm. “Who is it?”
“That’s Cathy and Todd.” I turn my gaze to Dolly. “My partner and the
IT guy who sent us to find you.”
Dolly’s mouth drops open and her eyes widen as the severity of the
information sinks in.
“Grab the toy bag.” I turn off the ignition. “We’re going to have some
fun.”
“Are you sure we should go now?” Dolly picks up the bag, zipping it
closed without putting her knife away.
“What better time?” I push open my door. “We have questions. They
have answers.”
Dolly hops out of the truck as I round the front and wait for her to join
me. Once she’s at my side, I lace my fingers with hers.
“We do this together.” I remind her, and she squeezes my fingers softly.
“Everything is together from now on.”
“Let’s go.” I tug her forward.
The house is quiet when we walk up the drive. Lights flicker to life in
the living room, the kitchen. I know the layout. I’ve been to her house for
dinner.
“I don’t understand how she’s here,” Dolly whispers harshly as we
approach the front door.
“We’ll find out.” I have ideas now. I reach into the back of my jeans and
pull out my gun, switching off the safety. “Stay behind me. I don’t know if
she’ll have her weapon on her.” If she does, I’m a quicker shot, but I don’t
want Dolly in harm’s way.
“Okay.” She adjusts her grip on the bag with her left hand while raising
her right hand high, ready to strike with her knife at the slightest
provocation.
I think I’m falling for her—fuck that, I think I’ve already fallen. She’s
ready to rush into battle at my side, with me, for me. When have I ever been
so loved before?
The door could be locked, but I don’t waste time finding out. Cathy’s
got a shit front door. I’ve told her before to replace it, but she never
listened. I kick the door in easily, shards from the doorframe spraying the
front hallway. A squeak comes from the living room.
Todd stands next to the television, remote in hand, aimed at the screen,
while Cathy sits on the couch. Color drains from her cheeks as her gaze
lands on me.
“Shut the door, Dolly,” I instruct, aiming my gun at Cathy while
stepping into the single-level ranch. They have nowhere to run that a bullet
won’t reach before they get anywhere.
“Brian,” Cathy exhales my name. “Thank fuck.” She stands up from the
couch, her hands splayed out in front of her. “I’ve been looking everywhere
for you.” She glances at Todd, frozen at the television set. “We all have.”
“Looking for me?” I shoot the question at her. “How are you even
alive?” Images flash. Blood everywhere. Pooling. I slipped in it. Fell into
the puddle of her blood.
She flickers her gaze to Dolly, who drops the toys at my feet.
“I…uh…” She’s preoccupied with Dolly moving toward her, walking
around the end table. A few more steps and she’s there.
“Dolly, stay still,” I order her. We can’t start yet, but Dolly knows Cathy
betrayed me. She won’t let that shit go undealt with.
“She doesn’t look hurt,” Dolly states blandly. She turns her head one
way, then the other, inspecting how unhurt Cathy actually is.
“It’s been over a month—” Cathy starts, but Dolly jerks forward with
her knife at the ready, sending Cathy into silence and stumbling back a step.
“I doubt even a month would heal the head wound you supposedly
had,” I bite out, moving my aim to Todd. “Don’t fucking move.”
Todd’s jaw clenches, and he gives a little nod. Fucking pussy.
Cathy drops her hands to her sides, shaking her head. “You were really
never too detail orientated, were you?” she asks, her tone souring,
hardening.
“Don’t check the age of the girl at the bar—end up fucking your career.”
She raises her brows. “Don’t bother to check if I was actually shot before
blubbering about it.”
I blink faster, trying to sort through the memories. So many fucking
drugs were racing through my veins.
“Didn’t notice the bag of blood hanging from the table beside me while
you were shoving your fucking cock in my ass?” she taunts.
“Bag of blood?” I search the scene in my mind. She was naked, beaten,
bent and tied over the table. Until she lifted her head to look at me, I
couldn’t see her. I never saw the other side of the table.
“It wasn’t too hard to convince you, I’ll be honest. You were drugged
pretty heavily. Not that it stopped your cock from getting hard.” She lifted
her shoulders.
Dolly inches forward, but Cathy’s focus remains on me.
“You took me there on purpose.” Captain Obvious has taken control of
my brain. How do you sort between what’s a lie and what’s real when there
isn’t time?
“Brian, I think we should just chill out,” Todd says from behind Cathy.
“I think you should shut the fuck up,” Dolly yells at him.
“You’re Queenhearts.” I get my mind back on track. I’ll work through
her actions later. Right now, we have to press forward. We need answers,
we need to keep going, we need to make all of this shit right.
“I’ll admit, I didn’t think you had it in you. What you did with Morty
and Jimmy,” she says. “But I think I know why.” She turns to look at Dolly.
“Abigail.”
Dolly freezes. Her jaw tightens while her lips curl inward.
“My name is Dolly.” She lunges for Cathy, but Cathy’s ready for her.
She easily blocks Dolly and takes her down to the floor.
I jump over the couch between us, but I’m not needed. Dolly’s on the
floor. She swipes her knife, cutting Cathy’s Achilles tendon. Cathy screams
and stumbles down beside Dolly.
“No. Wait.” I grab Dolly’s wrist just as she aims to plunge her knife into
Cathy. “Not yet.” This is to be savored, not devoured. Control needs to be
taken back.
I look over at Todd, aiming my gun at him. “Don’t fucking move.”
“I…fuck...Brian…I…” he stammers, glancing toward the front door.
I’m not taking chances.
Two shots, one to each of his knees, takes him down to the floor,
howling like the bleeding pig he is.
“Fuck!” Cathy tries to scramble up, to crawl away, but Dolly yanks out
of my grip and pins her to the ground.
“We need to get them somewhere we can work.” I point the gun at Todd
again. “Shut the fuck up or I’ll cut out your fucking vocal cords.”
Tears streak his pale face. He nods and holds up one hand covered in his
own blood. “Okay. Okay!”
“Take out her other leg. I don’t want her to be able to move,” I instruct
Dolly as I step over Cathy’s huddled body and head toward the kitchen. The
door to her basement is there, leading down to the last place Cathy will take
a breath.
I open the door to the basement and flick on the light.
“No!” Cathy’s protest is replaced with a curling scream. The last time I
heard the sound, my heart shattered. This time, my heart warms.

OceanofPDF.com
TWENTY-FIVE

OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY

“W e’re all set.” Ken stands back from the camera he’s hooked up
in Cathy’s basement. She had all the equipment already. Ken’s
disappointment in her grows deeper by the moment.
Her basement isn’t very different than the playroom Ken and I knew.
There’s a cross, which we’ve secured Cathy to, a table with straps built into
it, and a tool chest in the corner. She has her own torture chamber here,
down to the camera equipment to capture it all.
“It’s not online, but that’s good. We’ll run it later, once we’re away from
here,” Ken explains. He’s already told me this, but I’m not going to correct
him. There’s a lot for him to process here.
His partner betrayed him. Sent him to the playhouse. Spent money to
see him tortured for her own amusement.
I check the ties on Cathy’s arms. She’s mumbling behind the cloth gag
in her mouth. Tears run down her cheeks. We have her on the cross,
standing on her feet. With her cut tendons, it probably hurts like a bitch.
I pat her cheek. “Doing okay?” I ask sweetly. She blinks several times
and starts muttering again. “Can’t understand you, sorry.” I tap my finger
against the gag. She pulls on her restraints, but Ken has her tied tight. She’s
not going anywhere.
Todd isn’t ready yet. Ken needs him, so he’s secured to a chair in the
corner with a good view, his wounds bandaged to keep him from bleeding
out. We want him alert, or at least conscious.
Cathy pulls harder, shaking her head. Her attention focuses behind me
on Ken.
“I think she’s scared of that cattle prod you’re holding.” I run my finger
along her jaw. “You want to start there?” I ask him, looking over my
shoulder at him.
“Dolly, what did she request most often of you?” Ken asks me, his gaze
glued to Cathy. He stripped her when he secured her, so we have her entire
body to play with. Nice blank canvas as Bossman would say. I know,
because it’s what he said to me whenever he gave me enough time to heal
between sessions.
“Queenhearts loved to see me dangled from the ceiling. She was
particularly fond of my ass being used.” I recall the pings from the
playroom. How fast they would dance around the room. The times when
she was the special bidder, the pings were louder. Maybe it was because the
pain was greater or because she was relentless in her requests.
Ken snorts. “Maybe that’s why she had me fuck her ass.”
“The camera’s on. We can start,” Ken says to me, pressing a kiss to my
temple.
“Do you want to go first?” I ask him. She hurt me. I’ll have the scars for
the rest of my life, but the hurt she caused him isn’t visible on his skin—and
that’s worse.
“I promised you’d get to have your say with Queenhearts, and here she
is.” Ken’s voice dips. “Take your time, Dolly. Don’t rush this.” He squeezes
my shoulder and steps away, the prod still in his hand.
I stare at my gift, unsure where to start unwrapping.
“Who did Bossman work for?” I slip my knife between her cheek and
the fabric of her gag, ripping through it.
She spits out the balled-up cotton and coughs. “No.”
“Really?” I ask, piercing her cheek with the tip of my knife. A pearl of
blood forms and I lick it away. “Tell the truth.” I twirl the tip of the blade
again, bringing forth another drop of blood, but I let this one slip down her
face. It makes a pretty trail, following in line with her dried tears.
“Stop. Please,” she breathes out.
“Stop?” I pull back, as though the word is foreign to me. “Didn’t I beg
for them to stop? Didn’t I beg all of you to stop? Didn’t Ken ask that?” I
point the knife at her lips. If this woman doesn’t start giving us information,
I’m going to cut out her tongue and dissect her organs.
“Brian, don’t do this.” She ignores me.
I won’t be fucking ignored!
“His name is Ken!” I jab my knife into her bicep. The blade hits her
bone. I pull back and stab again until I make it all the way through her
flesh, pinning her to the cross.
Her scream bounces off the walls, but no one will hear her. The walls
have been sound proofed for her own playtime down here.
“Tell me who he worked for,” I demand, taking my knife back. There’s
a bag full of toys for me to use, but I like my knife. It’s simple, easy for me
to handle.
“I don’t know for sure,” she cries out.
“Then guess,” I snap.
Ken is quiet behind me, watching. Just having him here fuels my
strength.
“I never worked with them directly off the web. I only interacted
through the webpage.” Her words rush out as the tip of my blade touches
her nose. Her eyes converge, focusing on my actions.
“How did you work out handing me over?” Ken asks from behind me.
“Online chat. I never saw them before that night.” She hurries with her
explanation. “I paid—” Her eyes close, and she swallows hard. “They paid
me—”
“You handed me over for cash?” Ken’s voice barrels down a dark
tunnel. I’ve never felt such rage from him before.
“No! I—fuck,” she cries. The blade pricks her skin again, and she pulls
back. “I just wanted a night of fun. It wasn’t meant forever. They weren’t
supposed to keep you.” She opens her eyes, releasing streams of tears. “You
were going to be left, high as fuck in an alley. You were supposed to wake
up with little memory. You shouldn’t have remembered it.”
“The bag of blood?” I ask, remembering what she told him upstairs.
“He was supposed to think he was fucking a dead body,” she wails. “I
was supposed to lay limp. I—fuck!” she screams as I twist the blade into
her cheek again. This isn’t so bad, putting little pin holes in her face.
“Go on!” Ken demands.
“They fucked me over too!” she screams.
“And all your little requests?” I take a small step back, inspecting her
cheek to see if I’ve left any open spaces.
“They already had him. Getting him back wasn’t going to happen
without exposing myself too.”
Ken grunts.
“So, since they had me, you figured why not get your rocks off?” He
steps forward and jams the prod into her side, sending jolts through her
body. She cries out, and her body shakes before he releases her.
“I’m…I didn’t think…fuck.”
“Why me? What the fuck did I do to you that you wanted that shit to
happen to me?” Ken asks, the prod only an inch away from her tit. He
wraps his other hand around her throat and squeezes until her cheeks ripen
to a deep red. “Answer me.” He yanks his hand away. A bright imprint of
his fingers lingers on her skin.
“George Romero.” She gasps for air.
He releases her and steps back, his gaze searching hers.
“Because of his fucking daughter?” He barks.
“I didn’t know why. He just gave me the order.”
“You work with him,” I cut in, walking around the basement. “You two
play down here?”
I turn to glare at Todd. There’s tape over his mouth, his arms and legs
are bound to the chair. Blood covers his pants from the knees down. He’s
awake, but there’s been a lot of blood loss even with Ken’s patch job.
“The three of you?” I point my knife at him. “Who’s Dragonmate? You
or the other guy?”
Todd shakes his head in a lame attempt to answer.
“Dolly,” Ken says my name softly, calling me back to him to stay on
task. Todd has a purpose. I can’t end him yet.
“If there’s a third…” I try to explain my thinking, but he shakes his head
at me. I sigh. There’s no dealing with him when he gets bossy.
“Is Todd or Romero Dragonmate?” Ken asks Cathy.
“Todd doesn’t—he’s not involved, not really. He just helped with the
tech shit for me,” Cathy admits. “He’s—”
“You’re boytoy,” I fill in for her. “The little pussy who does what you
ask in hopes of getting his cock in your cunt.”
“Dolly.” Ken’s voice hardens.
“Fine.” I step behind him. He can have his turn with her, but then I’m
taking over.
“Romero wanted me handed over, and Todd helped you cover the site.
He led the taskforce away from it, didn’t he? He was able to track Dolly for
Hire, but never handed over the information.”
Cathy shakes her head, her lips trembling too hard for her to speak.
She’s running out of information to give us, and that means the real fun is
about to start.
“How’d you get us put on the taskforce? Richards hates you—or is that
a bullshit lie too?” Ken sparks the prod and jabs her tit with it. She jumps in
her binds, putting pressure on her feet, and releases a blood-curdling
scream. Another one for my memory banks. Maybe hers will erase my own.
“Romero.”
“What about Pierce?” Ken asks.
She’s sobbing.
“Cathy. Pierce. Does he play a role?” Ken growls, grabbing her hair and
pulling her head back.
Her eyes are swollen from all the crying. Tears have mingled with her
blood. If she wasn’t such a cunt, she might be pretty.
“I don’t know. I just did what Romero said to do. You don’t understand
what kind of people are involved in this. Powerful people, Brian. I couldn’t
go against him. He would have destroyed me. I had no choice.” Her whiny
voice is nothing more than a pathetic attempt to gain his sympathy.
“You’re a victim?” I seethe. Ken moves over so I can get closer to her.
Grabbing the prod from him, I flip up the setting. I want it on high. I want
her to feel every bit of the currents racing through her body before I finish
her off.
“No… I didn’t…please.” Cathy begs, her wide eyes fixated on the prod
in my hand.
“I’m tired of her. Are we done?” I ask Ken, but don’t look at him.
“I think I have everything I need,” he says softly. “Very disappointing.”
He tsks, stepping back. “Dolly, you can go ahead.”
Cathy’s mouth opens, another plea on her tongue that never gets out. I
jam the prod into her belly, letting the electric heat run through her entire
body until she’s shaking from the pain. Only then do I pull it back.
“You enjoyed watching me bleed.” I prick her torso with my knife. Not
deep enough to kill her, just enough to see the trickling of her blood down
her chest.
“You asked for Ken to be hurt.” I charge up the prod again and press it
to her cunt. Her scream deafens my left ear.
“End it,” Ken commands me.
I look over my shoulder at him. His steady gaze on me, he gives me a
small nod. I’ve had my fun, but our work isn’t finished. I can’t play all
night.
“Please,” Cathy begs again, though I’m not sure she’s pleading to be let
go.
I drop the prod to the floor and switch my knife to my right hand. I
press her back against the cross, and she raises her chin, squaring off with
me, fear dancing in her eyes.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Cathy.” I press a soft kiss to her cheek.
“You’re safe here. You know what’s going to happen.” I hold fast to her
chest, keeping her body as elongated as I can. “You’re going to die.”
A sob breaks loose from her chest.
“What was scary was all those days living in that cell, not knowing if I
would die, if I would live, if I would be tortured or raped or hurt. Would I
eat? Would I get to sleep? Would I be too drugged to be able to do anything
to stop them? Would I get to clean myself? That is real fear.”
Cathy’s eyelids flutter along with her trembling lips.
“Dying isn’t scary.” I lean close to her ear. “But it is inevitable.”
Sinking my knife into the lowest part of her belly, I rip it upward,
slicing her open before I remove it. Pulling back, I release her and let her
stomach open wide, spilling the contents onto the floor.
Her scream loses power as she slumps forward on the cross. Blood drips
from the wound. She gasps. Another sound, a gurgle, and then, nothing.
Held up only by the binds on her arms to the cross, she hangs limp.
“Dolly.”
I drag my gaze away from the mess on the floor.
“It’s easier to breathe now, isn’t it?” I ask Ken.
“It is.” He nods, holds out his hand for me, and pulls me to his chest.
I’m covered in her blood and ruining his clothes, but he hugs me tight. “You
did good.”
“What about him?” I ask, not wanting to leave his embrace, but we still
have to deal with Todd.
“He’s going to help us,” he says, pressing his lips against my head.
“Then he’s going to die.”

OceanofPDF.com
TWENTY-SIX

OceanofPDF.com
KENDOLL

T odd’s sniffling grates on my nerves, but he hasn’t taken his fingers off
the keyboard, so I don’t get on his ass about it.
Yet.
I have him set up at Cathy’s kitchen table with the laptop I swiped from
the playhouse and Cathy’s lined up beside it.
“Think he’ll be able to help?” Dolly asks, sipping a glass of water.
“He better,” I say loud enough for him to hear me. I think he’s come to
terms with what’s going to happen when he’s done working, but the carrot
keeping him on task is he won’t suffer.
“I-I’ve found three so far,” Todd announces.
I check over his shoulder, looking at the face recognition software still
running on his screen.
“These girls are reported missing?” I clarify.
“Yes, all three have a report on file. One is from a year ago, one’s only a
few months, and the third is five years old.”
Five years she’s been missing.
Dolly puts the glass down on the counter. “Can the FBI track them
down? I mean, isn’t there a way to hack into my father’s financial records
and cross reference things to find out who took these girls?”
“It’s possible. Yeah,” Todd says, but I hear the underlying current of
doubt. Getting her hopes up isn’t fair.
“It could take them years to go through all the data. Especially if your
dad was smart enough to keep his personal finances out of this. Shell
companies, overseas accounts…it takes time to uncover those,” I tell her.
“Once you find out who these girls are, I want you to search the dark web.
Find the latest uploads with them involved.”
“I—what? I can’t do that from here. I need to get into my computer at
the lab. Cathy’s—” He pauses a moment. “Her computer doesn’t have the
login credentials I need.”
“Then do the best you can with what you have, ’cause you’re never
seeing the inside of your fucking lab again.” I shove his head and join Dolly
near the sink.
Todd’s fingers start clicking the keys again.
“Can he help us? Maybe George Romero can give us better information.
He seems to be a top player in all this,” Dolly says.
A droplet of blood has dried on her chin. I wet my finger with my
tongue and wipe it from her face. She’s changed out of her clothes into
some of Cathy’s yoga attire and cleaned herself up a bit, but she probably
could use a long soak in a hot bubble bath.
“Our visit with him needs to be well planned. Right now, I think it’s
safe to assume I wasn’t reported missing because of his pull with the
department. I want to find out what Pierce was doing at the motel.”
“This girl, I recognize,” Todd announces. His face pales when I line up
my gaze with his. I can guess how he knows the girl.
“It’s not like that,” he tries to assure me. “I never—I didn’t do what they
did.” He leans away from me as I make my way back to his side.
“Right.”
“I didn’t. I just—fuck—” A sob tears from his chest, and he wipes his
sleeved wrist across his nose. “I didn’t mean to get so fucking involved.
These girls…the younger and younger they got, the worse the shows got,
but I was so fucking deep...Cathy said she’d turn me over, tell them I was
behind it, that I knew where the girls were but was blocking the taskforce
from finding them.”
I slam my hand on the table. “You were blocking them!”
“No!” He shakes his head, frantic. “Not really. I told them the signals
were pinging to different locations each time. But I gave them locations.”
“Not the right locations.” How had I thought joining the police force
would ever result in being able to catch the bad guys? The people who are
supposed to be around to help sort out shit, to help find the assholes, are the
very monsters I was hunting.
“I gave them the locations of the first pings. Most of the time, the signal
would bounce. If Cathy gave me the okay, I relayed it.” His fingers fluttered
as he wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead. “I think she only said to give
a correct location once she was sure they wouldn’t find anything once they
got there.”
“Pierce is a piece of shit detective or he’s in on this bullshit too.” The
list of people needing to die grows longer every day.
“As far as I know, he’s not involved. Cathy gave the directions. She was
playing Pierce.”
And me. So easily she’d played me. I know her daughter for fuck’s
sake. The rift between them is becoming a bit clearer to me. There could be
more there than just a girl outgrowing her mother.
Putting my focus back on the problem at hand, I pull the laptop from
him and spin it around so I can see the poor kid. “Who’s this girl?”
“Her real name is Candace Lindenhurst. Missing person’s report filed
six months ago. Cathy had her…she taped her a few nights ago.”
“You mean you taped her a few nights ago, then sold the footage for
her,” Dolly states. She’s gone calm since she dealt with Cathy, but she’s
also getting tired. She needs rest, to gain her strength if we are going to take
on Romero.
Todd nods silently, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Where did Cathy get her?” I ask.
“A guy. I don’t know who he is. She talked to him on the phone a lot
that night. He’ll be in her records.”
I glare him down. “Then get his fucking information.”
“R-Right.”
Dolly tosses me Cathy’s cell phone from the counter, and I drop in front
of Todd. “Make a file. I want all the girls’ names you can find and their last
known locations. I want the names and numbers of anyone Cathy ever
worked with to get the girls, transport the girls, or paid to watch them.” I
clench my teeth and take a calming breath.
“I can do that.” Todd picks up a pen and drags a piece of paper closer to
him. His movements are slow. He’s beyond exhausted from blood loss, but
he’s too smart to stop doing what I demand of him.
“I’m going to put the TV on,” Dolly says.
I follow her into the living room and plop down on the couch while she
flips through the channels. Todd’s tapping starts up again from the kitchen.
“He can get away if we don’t watch him.” Dolly waves the remote
toward the kitchen.
“I can see him fine from here.” I point to his reflection in the large
mirror on the wall. “Besides, his legs are useless. I’m sure we can catch a
man trying to army crawl across the floor.”
Dolly smiles, then turns her attention back to the television.
“Wait. Stop.” I lean forward and tug on her shirt.
“What?” she asks, flipping to the next channel.
“Go back two channels.” I stand from the couch. I could use a break—a
long ass sleep, a hot bath, or a few beers. Something’s going to give soon.
Dolly clicks the button a few times, and the news report comes back on.
“Isn’t that the guy from the motel?” Dolly gives me a worried look.
“Yeah.” I take the remote from her and turn up the volume.
“Detective Pierce is ready to make his statement,” the anchor woman,
all dolled up with her plastic smile and aerosol glued hair, says, and the
camera cuts to Pierce standing at the podium at the PD, the taskforce spread
out behind him. Somber expressions, blank stares, hands folded solemnly
before them, they stand in unison behind their leader.
“As reported earlier this week, we have put out an amber alert for this
girl.” He picks up an eight by eleven picture of a young girl. It’s her school
picture. She can’t be more then thirteen. Her brown hair is pulled up into a
ponytail, showing off her high cheekbones and sparkling light brown eyes.
This girl has no worries in her life. This girl is innocent.
And she’s missing.
“Unfortunately, her remains were found this evening. While the search
for her is over, the hunt for her killer is ongoing. The body was discovered
early this afternoon by a jogger running on the Autumnwood’s trail along
Klein Creek. We believe Olivia was taken from the park near her home two
weeks ago. As we’ve also reported, several homes in Allenview Township
have become crime scenes under investigation after several remains were
found in the basement of two of the houses in the complex during
demolition.”
“There were two houses?” Dolly gasps, covering her mouth.
“The demolition is on hold while our team works with the law
enforcement of Allenview. We have reason to suspect Olivia may have been
taken by the same individuals who were held up in those houses in
Allenview. When we have more information regarding both cases, we will
hold a press conference. At this time, we ask that you give the family their
privacy as they navigate through this most difficult time. Out of respect, we
will not be taking any questions at this time.”
His light eyes rise up to the camera, as though he’s staring directly at
me.
“We will find those responsible. And we will bring them to justice,”
Pierce says firmly before thanking the press and walking off stage, taking
the taskforce with him.
“That girl…she was in the other house?” Dolly points to the screen. I
flick the television off.
“We didn’t know there was another house.” I toss the remote to the
couch and gather Dolly in my arms.
“We should have checked,” she says with heat, but it’s muffled with her
face pressed against my chest. Maybe we could have done a sweep of the
other houses, but we had no reason to think we needed to. Every house
appeared abandoned. Even the one we were tucked away in.
“They said her body was found along the creek. She didn’t die in the
house.” Dolly pushes away from me. “If she didn’t die in the house, does
that mean Bossman took her out before we killed him? Or did someone else
use the other house?”
All good questions.
“Todd.” I leave her behind and march back into the kitchen. He’s still
working between the two computers, but the paper is full of information
now. “What’s going on with the houses in Allenview where the airport
expansion is supposed to happen?”
In one rush, his face loses all color.
“There’s an investigation. Tell me what you know,” I press.
“They found the basement in the one house—the one you and Abigail…
I mean, Dolly, were kept. The investigation was started, but quietly. It didn’t
make the news outlets until several bodies were uncovered.”
“Cathy knew the demolition would be starting soon.” I turn to Dolly.
“The last night…the special request from her and Romero. They were
supposed to come to the house. They were allowed to be in the room, but
they bailed at the last minute. Bossman and Beardman—I mean Morty and
Jimmy were talking about it.” Strange to say their actual names. It doesn’t
shrink the monster inside them. Now, the monster has a name.
“Because they knew they’d be found out if they came? They’d leave
behind fingerprints or something?”
“Maybe. Probably. Cathy had already been in the house, though.”
“They couldn’t take the chance on being seen on camera,” Todd
explains for us. “They were probably going to go, but at the last minute
decided it wasn’t worth the risk. Cathy’s DNA is probably all over that
crime scene, but she inserted herself into the investigation. Easy to explain
away a cop’s fingerprints at the scene if she’s conducting a search.”
“And what explanation of my disappearance?” I snag a laptop from him
and sit down at the table. I can get a lot of information through the news
sources I have.
“Romero had you pulled off the case and transferred. As far as Pierce
was concerned, you were sent off to third district.”
I snap my head up. “And he didn’t question it? Being pulled off a case
last second, in the middle of the fucking night, then thrown all the way
across town?”
“Pierce had his hands full with the missing girls, and then Olivia—the
girl on the news just now—was reported missing.” Todd presses his lips
together. “She was taken from the playground only a few blocks away from
the deputy mayor’s residence.”
“He took her?” Dolly demands to know. “He took her to that house, the
one next door?”
“I don’t know! I only know it was mentioned how close he lived to the
girl. It’s a small community he lives in—less than twenty homes in his
subdivision.”
“And they thought he might know something?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I stayed in my lab and worked the websites. I kept them
in the dark as best I could without getting Pierce suspicious.”
I tug my gun out of my belt and place it on the table. Todd’s gaze snap
to attention, focused on it. With my hand resting over the weapon, I turn in
my seat to face him.
“You have the other girls identified yet?” I ask, nodding toward his
paper.
“There are so many.” His attention doesn’t waver away from my hand.
“It could take me a while.”
“We don’t really have that much time.” I lift the gun in my hand,
cradling it.
“Brian. Please.” The begging begins.
“If it weren’t for you, the taskforce could have found Dolly before I was
even part of it. If it weren’t for you, countless girls wouldn’t be dead,
wouldn’t have been tortured and raped for the masses to get off on.”
Another bead of sweat rolls down his temple.
“You sold out those girls. And how many more are out there? I doubt
the deputy mayor took this girl for himself. He’s too high and mighty to do
the dirty work himself. Either he had someone do it, or someone’s trying to
send a message that he’s not squeaky clean.”
“We need to find out who ran the other house,” Dolly says calmly, like
she’s adding a bag of apples to the grocery list.
“We will,” I promise as I stand from my chair.
“Brian.” Todd’s lip quivers. Tears run down his cheeks.
“You did good, Todd. And I don’t go back on my word. It won’t hurt.” I
raise my gun.
“Please. Please, don’t do this. Please!” He turns to me, snot running
over his lips. “Please. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Please. Please,” he
repeats, but it doesn’t change anything.
Never did for Dolly.
Didn’t for me.
And won’t for Todd.
Until all those involved in hurting Dolly are gone, there will be no
mercy. There will be no second chances. There will be nothing but pain and
death.
One squeeze of the trigger, and Todd falls back off the chair.
“Should we take all of this with us?” Dolly starts to close the laptops
and gather the papers.
“No.” I stop her. “Leave it all here.”
“But—”
I point a finger. “Leave it. We leave this for Pierce. If he takes it and
works the case, then we know he wasn’t part of it.”
“And if he doesn’t?” she argues. “What if he just buries it all?”
“Then we know we need to make a visit to his house after we speak
with the deputy mayor.”
She glances over the table, the computers, the papers, the CDs with her
father’s videos on them. “If he does nothing, these girls will still be out
there.” She touches a CD that’s fallen off the stack.
I pick up her hands and bring them to my mouth, pressing my lips to her
chilled knuckles. “If he does nothing, I’ll skin him alive.” I remember the
look of confusion in Pierce’s eyes when he saw us at the motel. He had no
idea we were there. He was looking for something else.
“Promise?” she asks softly.
“I swear it.” Pierce isn’t the bad guy here, though he might be thinking I
am after seeing me at the motel.
“Okay.” She gives a little nod, pulling her hand away. “I trust you.” Her
lips pull into a small smile, tearing at my heart. It’s not a light thing she’s
said, and the weight of it lifts me up.
“Good. Get your knife and the bag.” I send her off on the errand while I
get out another blank page and scribble a note for Pierce.
It’s simple.
Straight to the point.
I don’t sign it. I doubt I need to.
I leave the note on top of Cathy’s computer. I’m taking the one from the
playhouse. There’s nothing on it they can’t access from the web, and once
they start looking into the CDs and the list Todd made, they’ll find what
they need.
I glance once more at the note, hoping Pierce will see it.
Find them all or pay.

OceanofPDF.com
TWENTY-SEVEN

OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY

“A re you okay, Ken?” I run my fingers through his hair, drawing


him away from the computer screen. He’s been flipping through
news websites all morning. When he turns to look at me, it’s with a heavy
scowl.
“I’m fine.”
I trace his lips with my fingertip. “You don’t look fine. You look
serious. And mad. Are you mad at me?”
His brow wrinkles. “Should I be mad, Dolly? What were you doing all
morning?” he asks, wrapping his arm around my waist and hauling me into
his lap. “Were you being a good girl for me or were you digging around for
things you shouldn’t have been?”
He got us another hotel room on the fancy side of town. He says the
cost is fine because it’s only for one day.
“I read the book you gave me. But I’m done with it.” I lean into him,
inhaling the musky smell of his cheek. He shaved after his shower this
morning, and I love the scent.
“You finished it already?” he asks with a bit of a laugh. I don’t blame
him for being surprised. Television was a luxury I wasn’t afforded growing
up. Seeing the world outside the bubble my parents created for me would
have given me ideas of freedom. So, I read. Everything and anything. I
devoured books like some kids binge potato chips.
“It was an easy read,” I say. I don’t want to explain I learned to read
quickly because I never knew if my father or mother would take it away
before I finished. It would only serve to upset him, and I want his smile
back.
“Did you like it?” He rubs his hands across my back in a circular
pattern. He’s as worried about my temperament as I am his.
“I did.” I pull away from him and frame his face with my hands. “Did
you find what you wanted?” I force him to notice the elephant waltzing
around the room.
He blows out a big breath. Pulling my hands away from his face, he
nudges my attention to the computer.
“Deputy Mayor is our next stop, but I don’t think this stops with him. I
think there’s someone else in the game. Why would he take the last girl?
And use the second house? Why bother with letting Bossman and
Beardman have their fun next door?”
“We’ll have to ask him.” I smile. Interrogating these assholes gives me
more purpose than just ending their pathetic existence.
“The cops should have been to Cathy’s house by now.” He breaks my
good mood. “It could get more difficult to get to him tonight.”
I push off his lap. “More difficult or impossible?” I ask.
He raises his eyebrow at me, like that’s going to take the edge off my
irritation. I want this done.
“Difficult. I’m not saying we aren’t going. I’m only warning you it
might not be as easy as getting into Cathy’s house.” He spins the chair
around so he’s facing me.
“Why get into his house? Why not follow him until we can grab him
and take him somewhere we know we won’t be found?” It seems like
everyone else is snatching up kids, women, doing whatever they want with
them, why the hell can’t we?
Ken considers it.
“It would be better to go somewhere else. You said he has a daughter. A
wife.” I pause a moment. “I don’t want them hurt.”
“Okay. We’ll get him alone. Where should we take him?”
“Do you remember where the warehouse is you and Cathy went to?
When Beardman took you?”
His brow wrinkles. He taps his finger against his lips. “Yeah, I think I
do.”
“That might be a good place, right? If they were able to use it to lure
you in, it’s probably not used.”
“We’ll go there first, check it out before we head to Romero’s house.”
“You left everything behind at Cathy’s. When do we know if you can
trust Pierce or not?” I hop onto the bed and pull my feet up, tucking them
beneath me. I grabbed a pair of leggings when we got up to the room. I
don’t think I’ll wear dresses anymore. Well…unless Ken wants me to. I like
looking pretty for him.
“Soon,” he says, then leans over to click the television on. “We’ll just
watch for the news and we’ll find out.”
“You trust the news? Don’t the police like to tell them what they can
and can’t say?”
He sighs. “That would be a hell of a lot easier, but no. Cops can’t
completely control the news. If a journalist starts gnawing on a bone, we
don’t have much power to stop them.”
I tap my fingertips against my chin. “Do you miss it? Being a cop?
Won’t you miss it?”
He raises his brows, like he hasn’t truly considered the topic yet.
“I don’t think they’ll let you go back to work,” I whisper when he keeps
silent.
“No.” He laughs. “I don’t think so either—and I don’t think I’ll miss it.
Cops have rules they have to follow, there are boundaries they can’t cross.”
He gets up from his chair and joins me on the bed. “I don’t have those ties
on me now. I see something, and I can take care of it.”
“Doesn’t that make us vigilantes? Aren’t vigilantes bad?”
“Bad?” He scoffs at the notion. “We aren’t bad, Dolly. The people
we’ve taken down are bad. Evil. The courts could have taken years to take
care of them, and most of them would have been out on bail while it was all
sorted. They wouldn’t have stopped.” He brushes hair from my face. “But
we stopped them.”
“We did.” I lean toward him, kissing his cheek. “Can we go check out
the warehouse? Maybe we can set up early.”
He laughs. “So eager.” He squeezes my knee. “Okay. We’ll check the
news, get our stuff, and head to the warehouse as soon as the sun goes
down.”
A quick glance out the window tells me I won’t have to wait too long,
so I don’t argue.
He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer as the news
flickers to life on the screen. If everything goes to plan, we will have taken
out everyone who played a part in Ken’s abduction—his torture…and mine
—tonight. Maybe not all of them—who knows how many people were
involved during my life? Or how many more girls are out there, suffering
the same way? Afraid and alone, wondering if there will be a day when it’s
not like that. If there will be a day when they feel the warmth of the sun on
their faces and have no chill creeping down their spine when someone calls
their name.
I snuggle into Ken’s chest, ignoring the blabbering anchor.
“What’s wrong?” Ken asks, kissing the top of my head. He can be so
gentle at times. It reminds me I’m not the warrior he is, but I won’t tell him
that. He says I’m just as strong as him, if not more, but he can’t be right.
If I was stronger, I wouldn’t walk away from the rest of the girls out
there. I would make plans to find them. I would save them. I would avenge
them.
“Nothing,” I lie, not wanting to have this conversation yet. He could
walk away from me, from everyone, and facing that right now is too hard.
So, like the coward I am, I stay away from it.

GEORGE ROMERO LIVES in the swankiest town I’ve ever seen. I grew
up in a good, safe neighborhood…well, as far as appearances went. But this
area…they have spared no expense for the safety of their citizens.
We didn’t risk going through the front gates of the community, finding a
spot down the street where we could see the cars coming and going. The
deputy mayor is at home right now. Probably snuggled up with a brandy
and a cigar. Searching the web for something depraved and sick to get his
cock hard.
“There’s his car.” Ken turns down the radio and leans forward over the
wheel of the truck.
“That’s a girl driving,” I say, squinting to see better.
“Fuck.” Ken throws the truck into gear and rolls out onto the street.
“What is it?” I ask after we’ve passed the gates.
“His fucking daughter is driving him.” He rakes a hand through his hair.
This is a problem. I do not want her hurt. She’s an innocent, and I won’t be
part of that.
“Do we turn back then?” I don’t want to wait any longer, but we might
not have a chance tonight.
“No.” He turns at the next intersection, following three cars behind the
black Lincoln. “We’ll see where she’s taking him. Maybe she’s just
dropping him somewhere.”
That could make things easier for us. I pick up the hem of my dress and
play with the lace edging.
“You sure you don’t want to change?” Ken asks when he notices my
fidgeting. It’s the dress from the playroom. The one I had to wear for them,
to give me the little girl appearance they wanted so badly. I’ve even braided
my hair into two braids—just like Dragonmate liked. I didn’t have ribbon
for the ends, but he’ll have to forgive me.
“No. Not yet.” I flatten my hand down over the skirt, smoothing it
against my thighs. It’s wrinkled, and blood stains the bodice, but I’m sure
he’ll appreciate the effort.
“Where the hell is she taking him?” Ken grips the steering wheel tighter
as we leave the high-end neighborhood. The boutiques and cuisine
restaurants have turned into discount stores, pawn shops, fast food places.
“Maybe he’s meeting his mistress.” I roll my eyes.
“He wouldn’t have his daughter take him for that,” he dismisses,
focusing on keeping up with them without getting noticed.
The Lincoln turns into a narrow alley.
“Shit.” Ken stops the truck. If we go down the alley, they’ll absolutely
see us.
“We can’t lose them,” I urge him.
He pushes out a breath. “I know.” He flicks off the headlights and turns
the truck into the alley. Brake lights on the Lincoln give away their position.
Halfway down the alley. The red lights turn off as we get closer. The driver
side door opens, then slams shut. A girl, not much bigger than me, rounds
the front of the car and yanks open the passenger door.
A stocky man, round and tall, climbs out of the car, using the door as
leverage.
“Shit. Shit.” Ken takes his foot off the gas and pulls the truck to the
side, parking us against a garage door, behind a thick wood utility pole. We
aren’t exactly hidden, but no longer in plain sight either. And I have a good
vantage point to watch them.
The car door shuts, and he follows the girl to the side of the garage.
“Did they go inside the garage or up to the house?” I ask, having lost
them behind the other garages.
“I don’t know. Let’s go, but keep quiet. Don’t make a move until I say,
okay?”
“I won’t. Promise.” I squeeze his hand.
We climb out of the truck, easing the doors closed so we don’t alert
anyone to our presence. I follow behind Ken, my knife firmly planted in my
hand and his gun in his grip. The crisp night air nips at my skin as we move
through the alley.
There’s no one beside the garage. Ken glances back at me quickly, then
motions for me to follow close behind him. There’s a small garden between
the garage and the walkway. Greenery sticks up from the dirt, a sign spring
will quickly turn into summer.
“They’re in the house.” Ken’s voice comes out in a hiss.
Lush grass grows between the garage and the house. Someone keeps it
up nice, waters it, cuts it. Whoever tends to it won’t let it die. A light
flickers to life inside the house, casting a yellow glow on the back patio. A
figure walks past the window, throwing a shadow just in front of Ken.
It’s the girl, her hair pulled into a high ponytail.
“Should we knock?” I grip the back of Ken’s shirt, fighting back a
giggle.
I shouldn’t be enjoying this moment. There’s nothing but the unknown
stretched out in front of us. My insides are trembling, but it’s not from fear.
I can sense victory. We are going to finally battle the last demon.
And we are going to win.
“We’re going to storm the door. I have no idea how many people are
inside, but we’ll have surprise on our side.” Ken’s eyes shimmer beneath
the soft lighting from the house. He’s as eager to fulfill our goal as I am.
I adjust my grip on my knife, the weight of it keeping me grounded as
we make our way up the short steps to the door.
The girl passes by the window again. Just as she disappears from my
line of site, Ken kicks in the door. His gun drawn and ready, he rushes
inside.
The girl screams, spinning around to face us. Her eyes widen when she
looks at me, then soften when her gaze passes over Ken. Recognition burns
bright.
“Brian,” she says his name delicately, like her lips are cradling it.
My jaw tenses.
“Ella.” His voice isn’t as tender when he says her name, but it still taints
the moment. “Where’s your dad? Are you all right? What are you doing
here?” He fires off questions, full of concern and care for this girl.
But there’s something manic about her. The way little strands of hair are
flying about her head, or it could be she’s dressed all in black from her toes
to the top of her head. She blends into the night.
“I…uh, I’m fine.” Ella eyes his gun. At least he hasn’t taken it off her. I
step closer to him when she sweeps her gaze over me. She knows me.
She’s seen me before.
Her gaze travels over my dress, and her bottom lip trembles.
“You’ve seen me before,” I say firmly, stepping in front of Ken. “You
know who I am.”
If she’s gone pale, I can’t tell. She’s wearing at least half an inch of
cover up on her face. Her lips are painted dark red, and the false eyelashes
are almost too heavy for her lids.
“Dolly. You’re Dolly,” Ella says, rolling her shoulders back. Maybe
she’s trying to look tougher for me, make me think she’s a force to be
reckoned with.
“Ella.” There’s a question lingering in Ken’s voice. “Where’s your
dad?”
Ella’s throat works as she swallows. “He’s busy.”
Busy can mean a lot of things. But when it comes to Dragonmate, only
one definition fits.
“Doing what?”
I cut off Ken and step toward her, holding my knife up to her throat.
“You know me because you’ve seen the videos.” I search her features. Tears
well in her dark eyes. “If you’ve seen them, it was with him, wasn’t it?” I
press the tip to her skin, but hold back putting pressure. I don’t want to nick
her—yet.
“Dolly—” Ken stops when I put my hand up. I’ve never denied him
authority over me, but this is different. This place. I know this place. The
smells of sweet cigar smoke remind me.
“My father brought me here once,” I say, the memory hitting me hard
enough to knock the air from my lungs. “And Cathy’s house. I’ve been to
these places for playdates.” I was much younger. Not even high school age
yet.
Ella nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Yes. That was a long time
ago.”
A muffled cry comes from behind the closed door just off the kitchen.
“It’s a bedroom. That room is a bedroom.” I take my knife away from
her throat and hurry to the door. Another scream, high-pitched and full of
terror, escapes as I throw open the door.
A sound wrapped in rage leaves me. A naked girl, young…too young
for the horror of this place, hangs from a hook in the ceiling. Red welts
crisscross her chest and belly. My eyes focus on her chest. This girl… I gag
a little. She doesn’t even have breasts yet.
The tips of her toes scramble for purchase on the linoleum flooring, but
she’s pulled too high. She’s practically dangling.
“What the fuck!” The fat man turns his red face on me, holding a single
tail whip in his right hand. His shirt is untucked from his black trousers. The
sleeves have been rolled up.
The girl raises her head. Her long blonde hair covers her face until her
chin’s high enough for me to see her eyes. Wary and cold. Tears drip down
her cheeks, rolling into her open mouth.
“Dolly.” Ken’s voice penetrates the loud thumping in my mind.
“How long have you been here?” I ask the girl.
She coughs and shakes her head, still trying to find purchase on the
floor.
“Get her down,” I whisper. When no one moves, my voice comes out in
a shriek. “Get her down!”
“Who the fuck—you!” George Romero’s eyes widen when Ken moves
farther into the room.
Ken’s gun points to Romero. “Don’t move.”
Rendered speechless, he stands still. Ken walks around me to the girl,
behind her.
“I’m going to get you down.” He stuffs his gun back into his pants so he
can use both hands.
Romero’s eyes flick to the doorway. At the minimum, he’s carrying an
extra hundred pounds. He’s not going to outrun anyone today.
But just to be sure he understands he’s not leaving, I put myself between
him and door, my knife pointed at him.
“Daddy?” Ella sobs from behind me.
“You stupid bitch,” Romero bellows, spit flying from his mouth. “I
knew he’d be a problem. I knew it!”
Ken? He knew Ken would be a problem.
The girl is drawn down to the floor once Ken gets the restraints off her
wrists. Bringing her arms down to her sides makes her whimper. She’s so
frail and small. Ken looks past me.
“Get me a fucking blanket, Ella!” he orders.
“Don’t you help him!” Romero screams. I envisioned Dragonmate to be
taller, thinner—more billboardesque. Instead of a tall businessman, he’s a
round toddler throwing a fit.
“A blanket, Ella, or I’ll start gutting your father right here.” I take a
small step toward Romero. I’d be happy to start, but the girl needs to be in a
safe place, she needs to be tended to, and having to watch what I have
planned might upset her.
Ella scrambles off behind me and returns with a light blue cotton
blanket. Ken takes it from her and helps wrap it around the girl who’s now
sitting with her legs crossed on the floor, shivering.
“What’s your name?” I ask her. I know I sound hard, but she doesn’t
need caressing. Right now, we need to get on the bottom of the situation,
deal with it, and then we’ll care for her. She’s been tough. There’s healed
scars on her arms. This wasn’t her first session with Romero. If she lets that
wall down, it might crumble. And we need answers.
“Sarah Damons,” she says in a weak voice.
“How old are you?” I ask. Romero’s lips turn white at how hard he
pinches them together, but he keeps quiet.
“Eleven,” she whispers, then tucks her head into Ken’s chest.
“Has he…” I pause a moment to swallow back the bile rising in my
throat. “Has he touched you? Other than the whip.”
“Daddy,” Ella whispers behind me. Whatever strength she may have
had has been lost while standing in this room. Maybe this was her room
once. Maybe she’s gone through this before.
Too many victims and only one life for him to lose. It’s not fair.
“He…yes.” Sarah breaks into a sob. The dam has burst.
“You’re safe now, Sarah. But you can’t be in here, okay?” I say to her,
taking my eyes off Romero for a moment. Little Sarah looks up at me.
Swaddled in the blanket in Ken’s lap, she looks even younger. “Can you
stay in the living room for a minute? It won’t be long. I promise. Then we’ll
take you home to your parents.”
“Dolly. Do you want to stay with her?” Ken helps Sarah up from the
floor, concern underlying his question. Seeing her like this has brought back
pain from the past.
“I need this done.” My voice trembles.
Ella moves into the room, to Ken, and Sarah pulls back, a new cry
emerging from her mouth.
“You took her,” I accuse. “You brought her here, and then you brought
him too.” If she was a victim once, she isn’t now.
“I…” Ella’s eyes flash to her father, tears spilling over her lids. “I…he
said if I didn’t—” she bows her head. “If I didn’t, it would be me.” The last
of it comes out in a raw whisper.
Ken snags Ella’s hair and pulls her away from Sarah. “You set me up
too?”
“No!” Ella brings up her hands to protect her face. She doesn’t know
Ken well enough. She doesn’t know he wouldn’t hit her there.
“I met you, and the next day, my life turned to shit. Why?” He shakes
her, and she sniffles.
“I didn’t—”
“That was me.” The deputy mayor finally speaks. “I knew if you stuck
around her, you’d get in my way, and I needed you gone. The bitch had
nothing to do with it.” He laughed. “She would have fucked it all up if she
had.”
“The girl on the news—you took her too?” I ask Ella, who nods.
“And she fucked that up. Useless bitch.” Romero scoffs. He’s not quite
understanding his situation.
“You say that again, and I’m going to cut out your tongue,” I warn him
from behind clenched teeth, making his situation crystal clear.
“How long have you been getting girls for him?” Ken keeps questioning
Ella.
“I don’t know, just a few months? He said he’d leave me alone if I got
him…if I got him someone else.” She sniffles. Self-preseverance has given
her a helping of regret she’ll never outrun.
“He did this to you?” Ken asks, his tone softening.
Ella picks up her shirt, exposing the creamy skin beneath. Thick white
scars mar her flesh, some too wide to have been caused by the whip he’s
holding.
“Ella, take Sarah to the other room. Keep her safe. If anything happens
to her, I will play connect the organs with you and leave you to die.”
She blinks and gives me a curt nod. The makeup runs down her face,
reminding me she isn’t all villain. She survived the only way she could. It
doesn’t change a lot for me, but it gives her a pass at dancing with my knife.
Ella wraps her arm around Sarah’s shoulder and escorts her from the
room. Sarah’s reluctant at first, but seeing the alternative, she makes the
smart choice and goes along. Ella closes the door behind them, and I take
note of the walls for the first time.
“You’ve soundproofed this place,” I remark. “Not all that well, since we
heard Sarah from the other room. But enough so the neighbors don’t call the
cops, I suppose.”
“Look. I know you’re pissed.” His words aren’t vile, but his arrogance
still leaks through. “You’re looking for revenge. I get it.” He waves his
hands at us. Ken walks behind him, pacing, waiting for his moment.
“Do you? Do you get it?” I ask, dropping my hand to my side. He wants
to have a conversation. Maybe he thinks he’ll get us to sympathize with
him. Maybe he’ll tell us a story of how his wife doesn’t suck his dick often
enough, or his girlfriend in college laughed at the size of his cock.
“I doubt he does,” Ken mutters behind me. He’s showing his restraint
by not going for this asshole’s throat. He’s going to let me play first.
I really do love him.
I freeze for a moment as that thought rattles around my mind. Romero is
blabbering again, but I’m turning over the notion this way and that, getting
a feel for it. I really, truly do love Ken.
It will make losing him all the worse…if he leaves.
“You know I have connections and money. I can give you whatever you
want.” Romero’s plea distracts me from my worry. This isn’t the time to get
concerned about what happens after.
“I know all about your connections,” Ken shouts. “You’ve been—” Ken
turns around, pressing the heels of his hands to his temples. “You’ve been
doing these fucking messed up things to your own daughter! The shit you
were paying for online wasn’t enough?”
“Ken,” I say, touching his shoulder. “I think he used his daughter to do
the things he was watching.” I glance back at Romero. Guilt drips from his
lowered eyes. “He would watch, make them do those things to me, and the
he’d—” I don’t finish the sentence. Having the images in my mind are bad
enough; having them sour on my tongue would be too much.
Ken pulls his gun and aims, taking two shots before I can cover my
ears. Both of Romero’s knees are taken out, and he crumbles to the floor,
screaming and crying.
“Can we string him up?” I ask Ken, standing over the huddled mess of a
man.
“Yeah. Hand me the rope.”

OceanofPDF.com
TWENTY-EIGHT

OceanofPDF.com
KENDOLL

A ir comes too harshly for Romero once I put him back on the floor.
The rope around his neck has already started chaffing away at the
skin. His wrists, bound behind him, are also starting to bleed from the ties.
My mother had been proud of me when I’d made Eagle Scout. I know
ropes and knots like I know how to breathe. His discomfort is no accident.
“Please.” He gasps, then sputters into another coughing fit.
“Not yet.” Dolly taps her knife against her chin. She’s sitting on a table
by the door, watching him. Her legs dangle off the edge, swinging
innocently.
“One more,” I tell her. We wanted more play time, and I’d give Dolly
anything she wants, but Sarah’s outside, and she needs us.
Dolly’s in agreement. We don’t need long conversations to know what
the other thinks. We just feel each other. Sense the needs, the urgencies, the
right path. It’s what brings us together so easily.
I pull the rope, lifting him off the floor until his toes barely touch the
tiles. His face ripens to deep red with a tinge of purple as he dangles. He
makes it worse on himself by wiggling, but he’s probably trying to find
some way to lessen the pressure on his throat.
Won’t happen.
I dated a girl once, right after college, who was into all sorts of kinky
shit. Breath play was one of them, but not just ordinary “Choke me,
Daddy” sort of breath play. No, this girl liked to be strung up. It took a
while, but I learned what I needed to play safe with her. Safety first and all.
I’m not looking to get his pussy wet.
I loosen my grip on the rope, letting him crumple to the floor. More
gasping and coughing. He spits.
“Enough rest.” I pull on the rope until he works his way to his feet. His
breath comes in big huffs. There’s enough tension on the rope that he has to
stand straight to avoid choking himself out. His wounded knees have to be
killing him.
Dolly’s lips pull into a wide smile, and she hops off the table.
“Do you like my dress?” she asks him, fanning out the skirt and
curtseying slightly. “No? You always picked this one. The white dress with
all the lace. And the makeup. I didn’t have time to do my face for you
today.” She touches her cheeks.
“S-S-Stop.” Romero’s voice is scratchy and raw.
Dolly pauses in her step and tilts her head. “Why do they keep asking
me to stop when they never once gave me a moment of mercy?” She turns
her question to me.
“Because weak men do what he did. Weak and spineless.” Keeping the
same pressure on the rope, I kick him in the back, sending him forward.
Dolly laughs.
“Maybe we should see if he has a spine.” She twirls her knife in her
palm. She’s become quite fond of that tool. I didn’t bother with suggesting
she grab the toy bag from the truck. She has everything she needs in her
hand.
“We can’t take too long,” I say firmly.
She frowns. “I know. Because he couldn’t last even a week without
hurting someone.” She fists his hair, pulling his head back until he’s looking
right at her.
“You made the perfect dolly,” he sneers. Apparently, he’s changing
tactics. He won’t be begging for his life; he’ll be tempting her to end it
quickly.
But Dolly isn’t stupid.
“I did everything hoping it would stop. But it never did. And never will
so long as there are people like you out there.” She presses the tip of her
knife to his chest.
“Yeah, you did. You took those cocks so good.” More taunting. I tighten
my hands around the rope. If he hurts her, I’ll jerk him off his feet again and
finish him myself.
Dolly studies his face, dragging the knife down his torso, over his
rounded belly. His eyes clench shut, and his mouth screws up into a silent
scream.
“I wanted to do so many things to you when I found you,” she says
softly, plunging into his stomach.
Romero grunts, and she removes the knife.
“I had so many plans to make you hurt, make you squeal.” The knife
pierces his abdomen again, and he cries out. “But then I saw Sarah and met
your daughter. They’re more important than you.” She stabs his stomach
again and again and again, until the front of her dress is covered in his
lifeforce.
I hold tight to the rope as his wiggling continues. He can fight, but
there’s nowhere to go.
He coughs and spits blood, but he’s still breathing.
She pulls his head back farther. Blood drips from the side of his mouth.
His eyes are barely open, but she’s not finished with him.
“You don’t get to have another moment of my life.” She raises the knife
to his throat and sticks the blade in the center of this throat.
Wet gurgling emits as he grapples for his last breaths. Dolly doesn’t
release him until the sounds have long stopped and his body falls limp on
the rope. She steps back, letting him flop forward when I release my end of
the rope.
Silently, she stares at him, unmoving.
“Dolly—” I start in a whisper, but she holds up her hand.
“I think you can call me Abigail now, Brian.” She raises her chin and
levels me with a soft smile.
Stepping over him, I grab ahold of her, pulling her to me. “Abigail,” I
say her name, letting the flavor of it roll over my tongue.
“We need to get Sarah to a hospital. Call her parents. And Ella—” She
wipes the back of her hand across her cheek. She’s crying. Silent tears that
cleanse the dirt of the past from her. She’ll never be scrubbed of it all, but
for the moment, for this moment where her tormentors are gone, she can
bathe in a safety she has never fully known.
“They’ll be okay. C’mon. Let’s go.” With my arm draped over her
shoulder, keeping her close to me, I bring her out of the room. Ella stands in
the living room, her fingernail between her teeth. Sarah’s sitting on a
rocking chair, the blanket held tightly around her.
“Is he—?” Ella asks.
“He can’t hurt you anymore,” I assure her.
“It’s my fault.” Ella’s shoulders slump, her eyebrows knitted with
pained remorse.
“We need to get Sarah to a hospital.” Abigail brushes off Ella’s
comment.
Red and blue lights flash through the front windows.
“What do we do?” Abigail asks, panic quickly rising.
I check the window, hoping they’re going to another house. No luck.
Three squad cars pull up in front of the house. I look from Ella to Sarah to
Abigail.
“We go.” I grab Dolly’s hand. “Ella, stay with Sarah. Be sure they take
care of her, do you understand?”
“Y-Yes. I will. I promise,” Ella vows as I pull Abigail toward the back
of the house.
“Brian. Wait.” Abigail yanks against me once we’re on the back porch.
“We don’t have time. We need to go. They’ll take Sarah and Ella to the
hospital. They’ll find Romero. It’s fine, but we have to go or they’ll take us
too.” If I don’t get her out of here right now, they’ll take her. I’ll lose her.
She’ll be swallowed up by the system. Even if she’s never made to pay the
price for what we’ve done, she’ll be gone from me. I won’t be able to find
her again. It’s not fear, it’s fact burning in my gut.
She finally recognizes I’m not backing down and gives me the
approving nod I love so much from her. She’s trusting me.
“We have to hurry.” I yank her harder, and we run through the yard.
Bursting through the fence, we sprint for the truck.
As I maneuver the truck past the garage where Romero’s car is still
parked, a dark figure steps into the alley. I don’t wait to identify him.
“Go!” Abigail cries out, and my foot slams on the gas pedal.

OceanofPDF.com
TWENTY-NINE

OceanofPDF.com
ABIGAIL

F reedom I never dreamed to hold in my hands teeters before me. If I


reach out far enough, I might push it away. If I try to grab hold, I could
drop it and lose it forever.
“Abigail.” Brian stands behind me, placing his hands on my hips.
A gentle breeze runs off the lake and rushes over our faces. My hair
blows wildly around me. The sun is high in the sky. Summer is finally here.
“It’s a bad idea,” I say after his fingers start to tighten on my waist.
“Okay. Why? Let’s list them.” He’s being reasonable. It’s a trait that
irritates me sometimes, like when I just want my way without concession.
But Brian is even more bossy than Ken ever was. It’s my biggest flaw that I
love it.
I flip around, pressing my ass into the railing of the deck, and tilt my
head so I can glare properly up at him. His hands move from my waist to
gripping the rail, completely caging me in—a feeling that once shook the
nightmares loose.
“He could arrest you.” I point out the obvious. Meeting with Pierce is a
horrible idea if only for that reason alone. “He’s a cop. It’s his job to arrest
the bad guys.”
“And you think we’re the bad guys?” Brian cocks his head.
“No. Of course not. But he does.”
Brian’s eyes narrow slightly. “Do you trust me, Abigail?”
“In the sense that when he arrests you, you won’t tell them where to
find me? Yes.” I give a sharp nod.
The side of his mouth kicks up into a lazy grin. How can I concentrate
on getting him to do what I want when he starts looking sexy and relaxed?
“In the sense that you trust my judgement.”
I groan. “Of course I do. But what if this is a trap? They’ve been
looking for us for three months.” The wind blows my hair in front of my
face, probably making me look a hell of a lot less fierce than I’m trying for
at the moment.
“And they haven’t found us,” he points out. This pretty house on the
lake isn’t traceable to either of us. As much as I wanted to flee, get out of
the country altogether, Brian insisted we see how everything plays out. If
the police won’t continue their investigations into the other girls, he
promised me we can. So, I haven’t pushed him about heading south of the
border.
“By luck, I’m sure.” I scoff.
“You doubt me so much already?” His eyes darken.
“No, of course not. But we can’t stay here forever. There’s no way
Pierce just lets you walk out of that diner, never to search for us again. You
heard the news. They haven’t given up.”
For the first month, we were the hot story—two vigilantes hunting
down child rapists, a sex trafficking ring brought down by two of its
victims. Hell, I think a few reporters wanted us to be caught just so they
could get an exclusive. They haven’t painted us as horrible as I suspected
they would, but it hasn’t exactly been favorable.
By the second month, with no leads to find us, the news reports lost
most some interest, and now we’re a ten second spot once or twice a week.
And the search continues for Abigail Johansen and Brian Morton is the
extent of our story.
“This will end it, and then we can really be free. We can leave or we can
stay.” Brian lets go of the railing and cups my chin. “Our real life starts
right after this meeting.”
“There’s enough money left from my dad’s closet for us to leave right
now,” I argue. “We don’t have to talk to him. We don’t have to risk it.” Why
can’t we just run away without chancing never seeing each other again?
“If we leave, we might not know if they are going to keep hunting down
the other people involved. This was bigger than Bossman and Romero.
Bigger than the department.”
He’s right, and there was a time I wanted to hunt down every last one of
them to make them pay for what they did—what they are still doing. But do
I now, when we’re so close to absolute freedom?
Brian’s waiting for me to say or do something. He’s waiting for me to
mull everything over and come to the right conclusion. His conclusion,
most likely. Bossy man.
“You’re going to go with or without my blessing.” I decide to stand
neutral.
Both his eyebrows raise, and he lets go of my chin. “Yeah. I am.” He
nods.
“Well.” I exaggerate a sigh. “I suppose we should get one more fuck in
before you leave. After you meet him, you’ll be playing bitch to some big
monster in prison.” I dance around him and run through the patio door into
the bedroom, leaving him on the balcony.
“You think so, huh? You better be naked with your legs spread wide for
me when I get in there.” It’s meant to be a threat, except nothing Brian does
scares me. And he’s proven to be as dark and devious in bed as out of it.
I wiggle out of the tank top and shorts I’m wearing and toss them across
the room before jumping onto the bed. I’m barely comfortable before his
hulking body lands on top of me.
“One last fuck, huh?” He yanks my thighs apart. There’s a savage look
about him when he gets like this. A primal energy surrounds him as he cups
my ass, pulling me toward him. He’s already stripped, and his hard cock
impales me in one movement.
I cry out, not because of the pain, but because of how easily he fulfills
that need in me. How quickly the dueling demons in my soul settle when he
takes everything over.
His mouth crushes mine, and I grab hold of him to keep him from
pulling away. Urgency burns within me as he bucks forward again and
again, driving hard into me.
He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t leave me. He trails kisses down my jaw.
“Abigail,” he growls, but it sounds like an accusation. “Fuck. Abigail.”
He presses me hard into the mattress, pumping into me over and over. The
springs squeak beneath us, the headboard hits the wall, but it’s just the
music we dance to.
“Don’t.” I wrap my legs around his waist, stopping him from pulling
away.
He laughs.
“You’re telling me no?” He tugs on my earlobe.
“No. I’m telling you don’t stop,” I correct him, though how I manage
words when my breath is caught in my throat is unknown. “Don’t stop.
Ever.”
He brings his gaze in line with mine, back to serious.
“I’ll never stop loving you, Abigail.” He hasn’t misunderstood my
words; he just knows me better than myself sometimes. He’s more in tune
with my heart.
I swallow back the rush of emotion. How do I respond without sounding
silly? How can I ever make him understand the depth of my feelings?
“I swear it too,” I say softly. Not eloquent, but the truth.
He grabs ahold of my wrists, pinning them above me, and drives into
my sex with all the force I can handle.
“This is our bond,” he says in his raspy voice, his breath hot against my
ear.
“Together,” I moan, bucking my hips upward.
“Forever.”
As though the words stroke me better than his touch, my body lights up.
Pulling my knees up and farther apart, he grinds his hips until I lose control.
Nerves burst, screams erupt, lights flash, and while I’m in the midst of
heaven, he pumps his cock faster and harder than before, bringing me away
from the edge only to plummet me back. Only this time, he’s with me.
Screaming his release in time with mine. We find our relief, we find our
home, we find our love in each other.
Together.
Forever.

OceanofPDF.com
THIRTY

OceanofPDF.com
BRIAN

P
suit.
ierce sits in a corner booth, as far away from the entrance as he can
get. I pick him out of the small crowd easily. He’s the only one in a

When I pulled into the diner, I noticed the cars in the lot. It seems he
came alone. My guard is still up, no matter what he promised on the call.
“Brian.” Pierce inclines his head as I approached the booth.
A waitress appears, a pot of coffee in hand. “Need a menu?” she asks
while pouring me a cup.
“We’ll both have the BLT club,” Pierce says, handing her the oversized,
laminated menu he had in front of him.
“Be out in a few minutes,” she says and disappears.
“Thanks for meeting me.” Pierce folds his hands on the tabletop and
keeps his gaze locked on me.
I glance around the diner again, then out the window at the parking lot.
“No one but me. I swear.” He splays his hands out.
I roll my shoulders, but the tension doesn’t ease. If this goes south,
Abigail is going to be on her own. She’s a strong woman, she can handle
herself, but she shouldn’t have to. She’s had enough people in her life let
her down. I won’t be like them.
“I was surprised when I heard you on the television.” Pierce had given
an interview a few weeks back. He’d looked right in the camera and talked
about needing to find Abigail to be sure she got the care she needed. He
wanted to be sure she was safe after all the horrors she’s been through.
Apparently, they’ve been watching the tapes.
Pierce isn’t dumb, at least not as stupid as I thought he was. He knew
playing the Abigail card would get to me.
“I meant what I said. I do want to be sure she’s okay.” He looks away
for a brief moment. “And you…the things…” He clears his throat.
“Yeah, we’ve been through some shit.” I save him from having to spell
it out. Why should we both have the discomfort of my serial rape? I can’t
muster the contempt maybe I should have for his discomfort. I wasn’t any
different when I was the one on that side of the table. Thinking I had the
answers, the right words to make the victim feel better. As though they
could heal with a few well-placed syllables.
“Is she okay?”
“Where was this concern during the initial investigation?” I change the
subject.
He blows out a low breath. “Todd did a fan-fucking-tastic job of
derailing us. You were only there a day, and the day you were there wasn’t
our best. We’d been combing through useless websites, reports, and pictures
for months when you and Cathy showed up.”
“A cloud of smoke?”
He grimaced. “Yeah. Nothing worthwhile, nothing to help us find her or
any of the girls.” He pauses. “But the stuff we have now is everything.
We’ve already uncovered three girls. Found them still being held. They’ve
been rescued.”
I should feel lighter at this news. It will definitely make Abigail happy,
but I sense the dread coming. There’s another side to this coin.
“But…”
He shakes his head. “But the guy holding them—the fucker had all
three.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. The weight of his job is crushing
him. I wonder if he can see it as plainly as I do. I sure as hell didn’t realize
it when I was in his position.
“He’s up there, right? Has connections in high places and probably
won’t see so much as an interrogation room?” I fill in the blanks. The form
hasn’t changed. Nothing’s fucking changed.
“Yeah.” Pierce sighs and drags his fingers through the thin strands of
what’s left of his hair.
“Two BLTs and a side of fries.” The waitress shows up, sliding our
plates in front of us. “Can I get you boys anything else?” she asks, wiping
her hands on her faded brown apron.
“No thanks. We’re good.” Pierce forces a smile for her sake. I don’t
bother.
“Just holler if you need me,” she says, then heads back to the counter
where two truckers are sipping coffee.
“You’re not here to arrest me then.” I pick up a fry and toss it in my
mouth. Hot and salty. Fuck, it’s good.
Pierce sighs again. I can sense the turmoil within him.
“The lawful thing to do is bring your ass in—and Abigail. Hell, you
both probably belong in a fucking psych ward. No jury will put you in
prison, but they’ll be sure you get the help you need.”
I run my tongue over my teeth.
“You killed people, Brian. The way…” He huffs. “The way they were
killed…I can’t—I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Dolly did most of the killing, but I’m not saying that out loud.
“Did any of them not deserve it?” I ask.
His eyes widen. “That doesn’t matter in the eyes of the law.”
I pop another fry in and chew slowly, nodding in agreement.
“You think I should sit in prison for killing men who have kidnapped,
raped, and profited from raping girls for years.” I lean forward. “Not just
these past few months, but years.”
Pierce doesn’t touch his food.
“No. I don’t. To be honest, I think you went easy on the sons of
bitches.” His fingers play with the prongs on the fork sitting on the white
paper napkin beside his lunch.
“Tell me about Sarah and Ella Romero.” I change the topic. Whatever
Pierce brought me here for, it isn’t to arrest me and bring me home.
“The young girl is home with her parents. She had mostly superficial
wounds, but she’ll be scarred for a long time. That fucker—” He bites down
on his lip before continuing. “He carved his fucking initials into her ass.
They’re going to do a skin graft to get it off. But the biggest hurdle isn’t
physical.”
“I know.” And I do. Abigail and I both still bear the mark of Bossman
on our bodies. A branding to know who we belonged to. For us, it’s a mark
of who we were, where we rose up from. Abigail is making strides, but the
memories haunt her, and there are moments where she’s quiet and huddled
under the blankets, reliving her hell. I can’t always reach her when she goes
back there, but I’m always waiting for her when she comes back.
“Ella Romero didn’t make it,” Pierce says, flattening his hands on the
table.
“What do you mean didn’t make it? She didn’t have any injuries when
we left her.” She’d been in perfect fucking health, as far as I saw.
“After she gave her statement, detailing years of her own torture and her
part in helping her father abduct three girls in the past few months, she was
released into her mother’s care. Ella went home and took her own life.”
There’s no emotion in his tone. Just a flat statement. Maybe he’s had to
harden himself to all this. Maybe I should have some point. Maybe one day
I can. Or maybe, he’s not handling this as well as he pretends.
“What about her mother?” I ask, because how can a mother do this to
her child? I didn’t get an answer from Abigail mother, maybe Mrs. Romero
will have one for me.
“She said she knew nothing of her daughter’s abuse or anything her
husband was doing. And to be honest, the woman is so deep in a bottle—it’s
quite possible she didn’t.”
Another parent failing her daughter.
“Sarah’s in good hands, though?” Because if she’s not, we have an extra
room at the lake house. Abigail and I will take care of her.
Pierce probably picks up on my train of thought and quickly assures me.
“She’s good. She’s in a good, loving home. I swear it, Brian.”
I relax enough to grab another fry. I’ll be checking on her to make
certain.
“Cathy’s daughter?” I shouldn’t give a fuck, but for all I know, Cathy
has been abusing her too.
“She’s as good as you can expect someone to be after they find out their
mother was a serial rapist.” He shakes his head. “Cathy had everyone
fooled. Seemed like a top-notch detective while using her badge to protect
the entire operation.”
“You had to have some suspicions. How’d you track me down to that
motel anyway?”
Pierce half laughs and runs his hand over his head. “Pure fucking luck.”
He levels his gaze on me. “My daughter works the front desk. She’d
forgotten her lunch at home. I was just dropping it off for her when I saw
you.”
“Some luck.” I smirk.
A long moment passes quietly between us. “So why the meeting?” Time
to get to the real business at hand.
Pierce reaches below the table and brings out a yellow envelope. He
drops it on the table and pushes it across to me.
“Pictures of the man responsible for the last three girls we found. He
has property in Morocco and has been allowed to keep his travel
documents.”
“Morocco doesn’t extradite,” I say, opening the envelope. There are
more than pictures in here.
“No, they do not.” Pierce nods toward the passports that fall out of the
envelope onto the table. I pick them up. One for Abigail, traveling as Marie
Stephens, and myself, traveling as Mark Stephens.
I look up at him. He takes a bite of his sandwich.
A phone is buried at the bottom of the envelope. He doesn’t need to
explain, and it’s better if he doesn’t. Carefully, I tuck everything back inside
and press the little metal clips back in place to keep it sealed.
“There’s a lot of film to go through,” I say eventually.
He nods. “Yeah.”
I let another minute pass in silence. Abigail’s waiting, and I don’t want
her to worry any more than she already is. I imagine she’s pacing the
balcony with her fingers all twisted up in her shirt.
“Okay then.” I pick up the envelope and scoot out of the booth.
Snapping my fingers, I turn back. “One more thing. Captain Richards?”
Pierce’s lips twist up in a victorious grin. “He’s lost his command and is
being investigated for three sexual harassment suits. He’ll probably be
writing traffic tickets by the time it’s all over.”
I guess Cathy hadn’t lied about the Captain. Good.
“Leave him be.” Pierce points a finger at me, like I’m a dog that can be
told when to attack and when not to.
“Not on my radar.” I shrug. “Unless you find differently. If the
investigations stop—”
“They won’t. Not until every girl on those tapes has been accounted
for.” It’s a vow, and from his tenor, I take it to heart.
“Thanks for lunch.” I grab another fry and leave him to his sandwich.
By the time I get back into the car, the death grip on my heart finally
releases and breathing comes naturally again. Any number of things could
have happened in that diner.
But the outcome I wanted has blessed me.
I will be with Abigail.
She’ll get to save the girls.
And we’ll do it together.

OceanofPDF.com
THIRTY-ONE

OceanofPDF.com
ABIGAIL

A blast of light fills the staircase when Brian flicks on the single
overhead bulb. It’s an old building on the outskirt of the main city.
High on the hill overlooking the markets, crowded and busy below. But we
weren’t interested in any of those things when Brian found this place for us.
True, the beauty of Morocco has captivated us both. Truer still, we are
in no hurry to rush away. But we have business, and our task keeps us from
wandering the city with the tourists. Maybe once we’re finished.
Brian steps down two steps and holds out his hand. “Ready?”
I straighten my posture and slip my hand in his. “Are you sure no one
will hear?” I ask as we make our way down the stone steps.
“No one will hear or care.”
The cellar of the building has no electricity. Brian lets go of my hand to
flip on his flashlight. I find the camping lamp he left down here earlier and
turn it on, casting light throughout the rest of the space.
In the corner, huddled in the back of a dog crate, is a man. He’s been
stripped of his clothes—and hopefully his dignity.
With the light shining on him, he scrambles to cover his eyes, probably
blinded from the intrusion. Brian adjusts his beam to land directly on the
man’s face. The metal crate scrapes along the stones as he moves again.
There isn’t much space for him to change positions.
“Please.” A raspy plea comes from the crate. “Please. I have a family.”
Dirty, fat fingers wrap around the thin bars as he tries to put some humanity
back into his life.
“I know.” I hang my lamp on the peg Brian installed a week ago when
we brought the senator here.
“The girls you took had families too,” Brian reminds him.
“Please.” The senator sniffles. At least he’s stopped feigning innocence.
“My legs. They’re so cramped.”
I look to Brian. This man has no true idea of what’s coming to him if his
only worry is his legs.
“Do you think the girls you kept in those cages felt any different? Girls
you kept locked up for months!” I kick the crate, sending off a metallic
echo into the room.
“I’m sorry. I swear. I won’t ever do it again.”
He can’t really think that’s going to work.
“Oh, well, if you promise…” Brian laughs. For the past three weeks
while we’ve been in Fez, we’ve been looking forward to this day. It took
longer to find the senator than we thought, and even longer to get him
alone. He kept his bodyguards close. But even a senator likes to take a shit
alone—and when he did, Brian was waiting for him.
“Who’s paying you? I can pay more, much more.” Again, with the
bribery. He’s tried this several times already. We already have all the money
he had on hand, plus access to all his accounts. He has nothing to offer we
haven’t taken already.
A noise from Brian’s back pocket distracts him. He pulls out his cell
phone and swipes through the screen.
“Hmmm…Paris?” He turns the phone so I can read the message from
Pierce. They’ve tracked down another girl.
“Should we?” I ask him. He knows Pierce and trusts him, but I only
trust Brian. He’s the one who found me in the darkness and brought me
back into the light. He’s my beacon, and I will follow him where he leads.
“Another untouchable.” Brian finishes reading the message and tucks
the phone back in his pocket.
“Then we should,” I agree.
“But first.” Brian wraps his hand around the handle of the crate.
“Yes, but first.” I pull my hunting knife from my belt.
“Senator, it’s time.” Brian opens the crate, and justice begins as the
senator’s life ends.
Everything we do, we do together. Life and death happen for us, with
us, and by us. Evil will continue to spread throughout the world, we aren’t
powerful enough to combat it on our own. But we hunt it, we catch it, and
we squash it.
Together.

I truly hope you enjoyed DOLLY and will introduce her to all the people.
While Abigail and Brian’s story has ended, there is always more darkness to
combat and love. If your still in the mood for the dark and depraved, check
out KRISTOFF another of my dark stand alone novels. Just turn the page
for a glimpse.

OceanofPDF.com
KRISTOFF

“Seriously? Ten?” I shake my head but hand over the money for my coffee.
It’s not like I have a choice in the matter. Without it, I’ll fall asleep before I
get my shot and seeing as there’s not another cafe within walking distance,
the barista smiling at me with coffee stained teeth will get his money.
I snag the cup offered and inhale the sweet scent of caffeine. It’s
probably the cinnamon I’m smelling, but I lie to myself that the caffeine
will work better if I can smell it, too.
The sun barely shines through the overcast sky, but it’s enough to make
me put on my sunglasses. It’s going to be a long day, and I need to get my
head on straight.
It’s taken me three years to get this opportunity, and I can’t blow it.
Spending most of my savings, I’ve rented a small apartment above a flower
shop and have bided my time.
Andrei Dowidoff’s home is nearby, a large estate an hour drive from
London. It’s a damn fortress, but not without its weaknesses. I just need to
find them - and someone willing to talk. Anyone at this point would be
helpful. I just need a solid interview, just one.
Officially, Andrei isn’t being investigated by any department I’m aware
of. He’s not the main target, but he’s a big player.
“Excuse me.” An older man with graying hair and deep creases around
his eyes touches my arm as I walk past him. “I’m sorry, my car broke down.
Radiator trouble, I think, and my cell isn’t working. Do you happen to have
one I can borrow to call my son? He’ll come get me.”
I scan our surroundings. The morning rush around the coffee shop has
died down and only a few cars pass us on the street.
“Sure.” I pull out my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and hand
it over to him, unlocking the screen with a swipe of my finger before he
takes it.
He thanks me and starts to punch in a phone number while I sip my
coffee. His fingernails attract my attention. Trimmed low and clean. Not a
spec of dirt or oil on his fingertips at all.
When I turn my gaze up to his face, I find him grinning at me. He
shrugs, but before I can question him, thick fabric is smashed across my
mouth and nose. A sweet pungent smell invades my senses as I struggle.
Arms wrap around me from behind, and I throw my head back, aiming to
hit the bastard’s nose. But I miss. My vision blurs. I try to hold my breath
while I fight to break free, but it doesn’t take any time at all for the
chemical to take over.
I drop my overpriced coffee. My muscles weaken, become heavy, and
my struggles are too pathetic to do any good. The darkness takes over and
wins.
Darkness almost always does.

———

My eyelids are heavy when I try to blink them open. A dense fog still fills
my vision, and there isn’t enough light to give me any sense of where I am.
An itch on my nose becomes annoying, and I try to lift my hand to rub it
away. I can’t move my hands; they’re bound behind me.
Bound, drugged and alone with no idea of where I am or how I came to
be here. I force myself to raise my head and get a good look at the room I’m
in. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to realize it’s more a cell
than a room. The floors, the walls, the ceiling, all concrete. A single bulb
hangs over my head, but it’s not lit. A thin line of light illuminates along the
bottom of the only door in the room. It’s probably steel enforced.
Shaking my head, a sad attempt to rid myself of the lingering cloud, I
try to focus my thoughts. Testing my feet, I realize my ankles are bound to
the chair. My shoulders burn from the bondage. A burn I usually welcome,
but this isn’t a dungeon. And there isn’t a safe-word that will get me out of
whatever mess I’ve put myself in.
I inhale a deep breath, choosing to ignore the rotting stench of the room.
I need to clear out as much of the chemical from my body, and cleansing
breaths are as good as I can do being tied up.
The door creaks when it’s opened followed by a bright white light
shining directly into my face. I clench my eyes closed and turn my head,
not needing anymore discomfort. Booted footsteps head toward me, two
sets.
“Good, you’re awake,” a deep voice says with a thick Russian accent. I
open my eyes and look sideways up at him. He’s older than I would have
thought from his voice. Thick dark hair with hints of silver at the roots. His
mustache is pure gray, and the deep wrinkles on his brow giveaway that
he’s past his middle age.
I blink a few times, looking past him. Another man, not as old, stands in
the doorway, blocking most of the light and casting himself in a dark
shadow. I can’t make out his features, but his large, muscular build is easy
to see.
“I have to say, Danuta, I am surprised you were so easily taken. You’ve
been a thorn in my side for too long, and so easily you were plucked.” His
accent makes it hard to understand him through my foggy mind, but I’m
pretty sure he called me Danuta.
It’s probably the drugs he gave me, but I start giggling.
“You - idiot,” I laugh and tug at my binds.
I’m rewarded quickly for the insult with a hard slap across my face. The
pain radiates through my jaw and makes golden stars dance before me.
Grunting, I shake my head. That didn’t help clear up the haze.
“Chertovski suka!” He spits on the ground at my feet. My bare feet. I
ignore the fact that he’s just called me a fucking bitch and concentrate on
my clothing, or lack thereof. I’m naked. Completely exposed.
He has my full attention now.
“I’m not Danuta,” I state, working my jaw open and closed. I press my
knees together as best I can, given my feet are bound spread apart. “You
have the wrong girl.”
He gets closer to me, and I can smell the cigar smoke on his clothes. His
eyes narrow, and he examines my face, grabbing my chin and turns my
head one way then the other.
“More light!” he yells over his shoulder and the bulb over me
illuminates. I blink several times, it’s too much at first, but slowly I adjust,
and I can see him more clearly. A deep scar runs across his chin, down his
neck. I’ve heard about that scar. How he got it. I swallow hard. This isn’t a
little game for ransom.
Fear floods my stomach, but I manage not to whimper when he
increases his hold on me. Showing him my fear, letting him see how scared
I really am will only fuel him. Monsters like him feed on it.
“Resemblance is too close.” He sneers at me, and I swallow back a
smartass retort. My wit isn’t going to help me now. Not with Andrei
Dowidoff. This man has no sense of humor. At least not the usual kind. His
idea of a good time is skinning a man alive to see how long he’ll stay
conscious.
The stories I’ve heard are enough to keep my mouth shut.
“I’m not Danuta,” I say again.
“I would think a CIA suka like you would have better tricks than lying
about your name.” He lets go of my chin only to pat my cheek. “But we’ll
see. I can easily give you an injection to make you talk. You’ll tell me
everything I need to know, and you’ll be punished for your lies.”
The way he says the word punished makes my skin crawl. It’s not like
when I usually hear the word. There’s no excitement, just raw disgust.
“I’m not Danuta. I swear it.” I jerk against my binds, but all that
happens is I make him laugh. “Check my ID. It’s in my pants.” I look
around the cell. “Where are my pants?”
“We did. All of your clothing and that little bag you had were inspected.
You carried no ID.” He stands over me now, his hands on his hips.
I had my wallet. Didn’t I? I had money to pay for the coffee. Shit. I had
grabbed the cash from my pocket. I must have left my wallet in my
apartment.
“Even if you had it - IDs can be forged,” he says.
He’s right of course. How many IDs had I seen in my sister’s briefcase
over the years? She’s been too many different people for me to remember. I
have to convince him I’m not her. That he’s got the wrong girl and
somehow let me go.
“I’m a journalist,” I blurt out. “I’m not Danuta. I’m not working with
the CIA. I’m writing a story.” On him, but he doesn’t need to know that. I
didn’t come to England looking to do an in-person interview.
“You disappoint me,” he says, reaching behind him. Producing a knife, I
assume he had strapped to his belt, he holds it up for me to see clearly. The
blade is wide and jagged. I have no doubt of the sharpness. Again, I try to
jerk free, but nothing happens. The ropes dig into my wrists, but I don’t put
any more room between us.
Pressing the cold steel blade against my throat, he brings his face closer
to mine. “I should slice you, from one ear to the other.” His breath is heavy
with cigar stench, and spittle lands on my chin when he gives his threat.
“Maybe I cut you from chin to cunt, instead.” He drags the blade to my
chin, nicking me with the tip. I clench my jaw but don’t make a sound. Any
movement could make the knife cut deeper - and the asshole doesn’t need
my help in hurting me.
“I’m not the woman you’re looking for,” I say again, softer, avoiding
his eyes out of fear that I’ll start whimpering like the pussy he probably
thinks I am. I’m not trained for this. I can only go on what I remember my
sister telling me of her training, little bits and pieces of things I overheard
her talking about with her partner when she thought I wasn’t listening.
But she never went over what to do if kidnapped by a high-profile
Russian sex trafficker.
He drags the knife over my collarbone to my shoulder. “How is it you
look like her then, hmmm?” He doesn’t let me answer, just stabs the knife
into the fleshy part of my shoulder.
I can’t keep quiet now, the pain is blinding and quick. I scream out, a
ragged sound. Tears form and fall down my cheeks. He pulls the knife out
and presses it to my skin, a new spot, a new threat. Blood dribbles down my
arm, droplets hit my thigh.
“I’m not Danuta!” I yell in his face.
He captures my chin with his free hand and turns my head until I can
see his knife poised at my shoulder again.
“I swear it. I’m not her,” I whisper this time. “Please. I’m not her.” I
plead in my mind for him to believe me. Because I’m not her.
“Tell me then. Tell me how you have her eyes, her hair, tell me.” I can’t
see his expression. My eyes are focused on the knife, on the wound he’s
already created. I can’t answer him.
“What do you think, Kristoff? Hmmm? Should we dose her with truth
serum? Give her to the men? Maybe a dozen or so cocks shoved in her cunt
and ass will help her speak?”
“It’s worked before,” the man from the doorway speaks. His accent isn’t
as thick, his voice not as heavy, but just as full of authority. He has a hint of
control in his tone, unlike Andrei.
“Answer me, suka.”
“I’m not her. My name is Magdalena,” I try again, sniffling and holding
as still as I can manage.
He shakes his head like I’ve disappointed him again. Slowly, with
purpose, he pushes the knife into my shoulder. It’s worse this way than the
stab. I scream, cry out as more of the blade disappears into my shoulder. I
try to move, try to pull away, but all that happens is a larger gash.
“I need more than that,” he says, starting to drag the knife toward me.
He’ll flay my shoulder open if he keeps it up.
“I’m a freelance journalist. I’m writing a story on sex traffickers,” I cry
out when he twists the knife. “I swear I’m not with the US government or
any government.”
“You know Danuta then?” he accuses but doesn’t move the knife. So
much blood covers my shoulder. My stomach swirls into nausea unlike any
I’ve felt before.
I nod. “Stop. Please,” I beg, and hate myself for it at the same time.
Danuta wouldn’t be so fucking weak. She would already be untied and have
his throat between her hands.
“Tell me.”
Things won’t get better once I do. Things could get a lot worse. But the
pain is too much.
“She’s my sister!” I say with the last gust of energy I have. “My older
sister,” I whisper.
Andrei yanks my chin back until I’m looking right into his eyes. He’s
searching me, to see if I’m lying probably. Like he’s a detective now. He
has to know I’m telling the truth. Danuta wouldn’t have caved so easily.
He jerks the knife from my shoulder and a new burst of pain erupts. I
scream, burning my throat from all of the yelling. My head drops forward
when he lets go of my chin.
“You are a stupid girl,” Andrei says with disgust dripping from the
words. It’s not the first time I’ve heard it, but it’s the first time I’ve agreed.
Coming to Europe, chasing the story, may be the dumbest thing I’ve done to
date.
“Your men grabbed the wrong girl - but I’m the stupid one?” I laugh
between sniffles. I’ve never handled stress well.
“You want a story about sex trafficking? I will accommodate you.”
Pain bursts through my head and the lights go out again.
AMAZON

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I want to thank you- the readers- for trusting me to take you on a dark and
twisted adventure. Thank you for taking the time read my stories and play
in my imaginary world with me. I am forever in your debt.

I’d also like to thank Jay Aheer at Simply Defined Art for the amazing job
she did on the cover for Dolly. She brought the perfect amount of raw
horror to the cover. Thank you for your amazing creativity and talent!

Monica with WordNerd Editing, THANK YOU so much for helping me


make this story the best it could be.

Thank you to my ARC team and every member of Measha’s Madhouse.


You all give me the support and love I need to keep putting my fingers to
the keyboard every day.

OceanofPDF.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

USA Today Bestselling Author Measha Stone is a lover of all things erotic and fun who writes
kinky romantic suspense and dark romance novels. She won the 2018 Golden Flogger award in two
categories, Best Advanced BDSM and Best Anthology. She’s hit #1 on Amazon in multiple
categories in the U.S. and the U.K. When she’s not typing away on her computer, she can be found
nestled up with a cup of tea and her kindle.

https://meashastone.com

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ALSO BY MEASHA STONE

EVER AFTER
Beast
Tower
Red

GIRLS OF THE ANNEX


Daddy Ever After
Obediently Ever After

DARK LACE SERIES


Club Dark Lace (Boxset)
Unzoned
Until Daddy

DARK ROMANCE STANDALONES


Valor
Kristoff

OWNED AND PROTECTED


Protecting His Pet
Protecting His Runaway
His Captive Pet
His Captive Kitten
Becoming His Pet
Training His Pet

BLACK LIGHT SERIES


Black Light Valentine Roulette
Black Light Cuffed
Black Light Roulette Redux
Black Light Suspicion
Black Light Celebrity Roulette
Windy City SERIES
Hidden Heart
Secured Heart
Indebted Heart
Liberated Heart
Daddy’s Heart
Windy City BOX SET

OceanofPDF.com

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