OceanofPDF - Com DOLLY - Measha Stone
OceanofPDF - Com DOLLY - Measha Stone
OceanofPDF.com
MEASHA STONE
OceanofPDF.com
Copyright © 2020 by MEASHA STONE
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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
OceanofPDF.com
ONE
OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY
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
OceanofPDF.com
FOUR
OceanofPDF.com
DOLLY
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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!
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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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