OceanofPDF.

com
 Pretty Lost Dolls
Copyright © 2016 Ker Dukey and K. Webster

Cover Design: All By Design

Photo: Adobe Stock
Editor: Word Nerd Editing - www.wordnerdediting.com
Formatting: Champagne Formats

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal
Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part
of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without
express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

OceanofPDF.com
 Table of Contents

Title Page
Copyright
Note from Ker and K
Deadication
Epigraph

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue

Playlist
Ker’s Acknowledgments
Acknowledgements from K Webster
Books by K Webster
About Author K Webster
OceanofPDF.com
 Note from Ker and K,
Pretty Lost Dolls has themes that some may find offensive. If you’re a
sensitive reader, please read with caution.

We ask that you please take care when sharing your reviews, and hopefully
enthusiasm for this title, to not spoil any parts for others. Thank you for
choosing to read this book and we hope you enjoy every chapter.

OceanofPDF.com
 For our readers…
Thank you to everyone who embraced these characters and breathed the
story along with us. Your passion and fire for this collaboration was
inspiring and pushed us both as authors to bring you a story worthy of your
love and excitement.

So here we go again…gain…gain
Jump on the crazy Benny train…train…train
He really is insane…sane…sane
We gave you time to mend…mend…mend
From Pretty Stolen Dolls’ end…end…end
So grab your Kindle, a teddy bear, or maybe a friend…friend…friend
Benny’s dirty little dolls are the new trend…trend…trend.

OceanofPDF.com
OceanofPDF.com
Benny
LOOKING THROUGH THE METAL BARS separating me from her, I know the
moment she rouses from her slumber. Her body tenses. The vein in her
throat begins to throb. In one single moment, terror overcomes her.
Panicked and panting.
Lost and confused.
So perfect.
Perfect little doll.
As I carried her from that place she called a home, her scent
overwhelmed me, and I’d almost allowed tears of elation to leak free for
Macy to witness.
Vulnerable and desperate to get her here, my emotions fought hard to
betray my hardened heart.
She. Fucking. Left. Me.
And for that, she would pay.
She didn’t know it yet, but she was always just a guest in that place she
called home. This is where she belongs—here. This cell is her home. She
just needs reminding of that fact.
“How did I end up back here?” she cries out on a choked sob, wide-
eyed and shaking her head. She’s in shock. It hasn’t genuinely registered
that this is reality and not her nightmares soaking her in their damp, dark
musk. “Oh God.”
Her voice hums in my ears. I want to weep. I’ve been so lonely without
her. Did she even know how much I loved her? How much I fucking missed
her?
Watching her scuttle around the cell like a crab caught inside a trap isn’t
as satisfying as I’d dreamt it would be. My heart shrinks inside the cage
containing it. If I could survive without it, I would cut it from my chest so
the agony of her abandoning us—no, me—didn’t squeeze a little more at
my sanity now that she’s returned.
Love is a savage beast trapped within me, thickening, and savoring its
desire laid out before it. Everything will soon be right. She needs time to
come to terms with the facts.
She will never get another chance to be away from me.
She.
Is.
Mine.
I came to rely on her being in this room. Waiting for me whenever the
desire to be inside her beckoned. But then…she was no more.
My dirty little doll.
She bested me and broke free from the chains of my love.
I’ve tried to be somebody else, evolve into a new man, but her memory
wouldn’t allow me the freedom of the ache she left behind.
Her entire body tenses as her jaw loosens and a scream that sends a
shower of goosebumps sprouting all over my skin roars from her.
God, how I’ve missed her. She will be my dirty little doll once more.
She just needs to be broken down into remembering I’m her master and she
belongs to me.
“Macy,” she sobs. “No.” Her head shakes back and forth in denial.
“This can’t be real. How am I here?”
Water bursts over my tongue with the need to taste her suffering.
She stiffens when words flow from my mouth.
“That’s a loaded question, dirty little doll.”
It’s been a long time since she’s heard my voice.
Felt my firm body pressed against her soft one.
Endured my never-ending wrath.
So fucking long.
She starts to cry hysterically and a smile turns one side of my lips up.
God, how I missed the sweet sound of her despair.
“Why are you doing this?” she demands, hot tears streaking down her
bright red cheeks. “Why!”
I scratch at my jaw, raising an eyebrow at her. “This is a long story,” I
admit with a wicked grin. “Good thing we have all the time in the world.”
As she breaks down, I let my mind flit back to her.
 My sister.
Bethany.

I jolt awake in the dead of night to movement and angry whispers outside
my bedroom door. My stomach flips and flops like a fish out of water.
Pushing back the bed sheet covering me on my old, lumpy mattress, I
climb out and my feet make hesitant steps toward the door.
Not knowing why or what drove me to face the fear of punishment, I
creep to the door and creak it open.
If Papa catches me out of my bed, he’ll punish me with his stick. At
seven years old, I know all about his painful stick. It’s the one he uses for
work to find the criminal men in the world…or so he told me.
Papa lies sometimes.
Shadows dance up the grey hallway wall. My chest rises and falls
erratically as the sound of my heart pounding roars in my ears.
Subconsciously, my hand moves to rub over the area on my butt that is
still sore from the last beating I took for waking Papa on a work night. But I
need to know what is happening. It’s like I’m being called to witness the
noise beyond the safety of my bedroom door.
Curiosity killed the cat, Papa tells me all the time.
Tilting my head to see around the doorframe, my eyes trail down the
hallway until I notice my mother’s white, flowing nightgown. It swishes
around her willowy frame as if to signal me.
Hello there, Benjamin, it seems to say. Fancy seeing you here.
She’s pacing back and forth just inside my older sister’s room. Her lips
are moving, but the mumbled sound is muted.
Long, dark hair curtains around her face, hiding it from view. If I didn’t
know better, I’d have thought she was a ghost.
But ghosts aren’t real.
The living is what haunts the living.
Never the dead.
 Bethany, my older sister, is eleven, and even in the unbroken mind of
someone as young as myself, I know sorrow clings to every part of her
being. She’s nothing but a space occupying the body she shuffles around in.
Once, she told me she didn’t like the things Papa did to her.
Being spanked with that stick was agony, but we only got punished
when we were bad. My thoughts always told me she must be bad all the time
because she couldn’t sit down without wincing.
As I grew and my mind allowed me to recall that time, I knew her
punishments weren’t because she was bad, but because Papa had a sickness
inside him.
She was what infected him.
She made him get the scary look in his eyes.
She diseased his mind.
“Momma?” I call out in a low tone, my shoulders hunched, as if that
will make my words reach her without causing a sound for others to hear.
Her head whips around to me and her body jolts in surprise.
“Benny, come to Momma,” she demands, her arms stretched out wide in
invitation—these same arms offer me solace after Papa punishes me for my
wrongdoings.
My legs stutter, but then, with a deep intake of air, I rush toward her,
checking behind me to make sure the bedroom door she shares with Papa
remains closed. If he wakes, he’ll be so angry.
Momma drops to her knees in front of me and takes my small hand in
hers, stroking over the palm.
The grooves on the pads of her rough fingertips feel odd against my
young skin.
She has, by her own words, sewing fingers, which left them raw with
broken and cracked skin.
She’s a doll maker. Those fancy porcelain ones little girls at the fairs get
super excited over. Their mothers always gush about Momma’s work. They
say the dolls are unique. Beautiful. One of a kind. Momma always places
her hand on her chest and watches in wonder as her creations become
someone else’s pretty little doll.
“They are all special and need to be perfect. No one wants a doll that’s
not perfect, Benny,” she often tells me as she lets me help paint their red,
rosy lips, and she’s right. If there was so much as an eyelash out of place,
people would complain and want a different doll.
 My mother strived for perfection, and many desired her creations.
Now, crouched before me with wide eyes, her own lips stark white, she
shakes her head the slightest amount with each word she utters. “I love you
and your sister. She was a perfect little doll, but Papa ruined her.” A choked
sob escapes her.
“What do you mean?” My face scrunches up in confusion, still a little
dazed from my sleepy state.
“She was like Momma’s dolls. Beautiful and not to be damaged.”
She isn’t making sense and fatigue is making me sleepy. I nod my head
and mutter out, “Okay,” because I think that’s what she wants to hear.
Bethany’s bedside lamp is on and it illuminates Momma, making her
appear angelic to innocent eyes. But the weird sound coming from behind
her isn’t angelic at all. It sounds demonic.
Like a pig coughing into a pillow while being violated.
Wrong.
Dirty.
Disgusting.
My head leans around her frame, my movements in slow motion, the air
condensing and robbing me of a full breath.
Glimpsing beyond the white gown flowing around my mother, I see a
huddled form hunched in the corner of the room.
Rocking.
Moaning.
Hissing.
His body is bare and my breath hitches when I realized it’s Papa.
Terror wells from deep inside me. He is going to be so angry with me for
being out of bed.
My eyes dart back to Momma, who now lingers beside Bethany’s bed.
A scent almost sweet mixed with copper permeates the air. My mouth
tastes like I’ve been sucking on batteries. The burning in my throat from the
sickness threatening to spill only instils more fear. If I get sick all over
Bethany’s carpet, Papa will punish me for sure, and Momma would let him.
She hates messes.
An almost soothing tone leaks from Momma’s lips as she begins singing.
“Miss Polly had a dolly who was sick, sick, sick.
So she phoned for the doctor to be quick, quick, quick.
The doctor came with his bag and hat,
 And he knocked at the door with a rat-a-tat-tat.”
She’s singing the song she always sang to us when we were ill and
needed mending. One of my sister’s pillows remains in Momma’s clutch as
she murmurs her now eerie words.
My eyes drag over the body of my sister lying on top of the covers.
Red.
Red.
Red.
Just like the lips of Momma’s pretty little dolls.
So much red coats the typically white sheets.
Welts mark her face and a deep cut gapes from her eye to the top of her
mouth. Pretty brown eyes matching my own are dull and lifeless. They used
to flicker with happiness, but that was so long ago. Now, they seem to fade
and know something sinister, something final, awaits her.
“Bethany.” Her name falls from my lips in a whisper as my legs shake
and a pain in my tummy causes stirring to build and burn my throat. My
tongue feels bitter, and I want to swallow it down along with the sickness
rising in my throat. I stumble backward until my body collides with the wall.
Momma climbs onto the bed, ignoring the wet crimson stains ruining
her nightdress, and straddles Bethany, hovering over her with the pillow in
her grip.
“Momma?” I choke out, but she doesn’t hear me. She doesn’t even hear
the sounds Papa is making as he rips at tufts of his hair.
Momma places the pillow over Bethany’s face, and for one small
moment, I’m glad not to see her empty eyes and messy marks. Her small
body begins to thrash beneath Momma, and I freeze in my spot, silently
willing her to leave my sister alone. She just keeps singing.
He looked at the dolly and shook his head,
And he said, “Miss Polly, put her straight to bed!”
Finally finding my voice, I yell, “Momma, stop! Momma!”
Thrash.
He wrote on a paper for a pill, pill, pill,
“Momma, no,” I sob. “Momma, please stop!”
Thrash.
“I’ll be back in the morning, yes I will, will, will.”
Bethany’s bedroom blurs as tears overcome me. I quickly blink them
away, but it’s too late. Bethany’s not moving.
 “Bethany,” I murmur.
She doesn’t respond. The only sounds coming from the room are Papa’s
unusual pained noises.
Momma calmly climbs from the bed and walks the three steps toward
Papa. Her hands splay open, and she begins hitting his face, causing his
head to jolt back and forth with each striking slap. A rage inside her I’ve
never witnessed before consumes her, melting away the calm.
“Pervert! You disgusting pervert! She was my pretty little doll, and you
ruined her!”
Slap.
“Sick pervert!”
Slap.
“Twisted pervert!”
Slap.
Without warning, he grabs her hands and rises to his feet. His rounded
shoulders curl back until he’s at his full height, and my soul shudders from
his intensity. It ripples from him like heat from a burning fire.
“Enough,” he snarls before emotion softens his features. “I’m sorry,
okay? I shouldn’t have touched her. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to hurt
her.”
“I told you what would happen,” she replies in a dead tone, one I
wasn’t used to coming from her lips.
A shiver rattles throughout my body as my eyes take in the scene, but I
don’t understand what’s happening.
You can see things without truly understanding them.
I can’t see the monsters in her room—only my momma and papa.
“Go back to bed,” Papa commands, his voice hoarse but unyielding.
On unsteady feet, I carry my numb legs to my room without so much as
a peep. I know better than to disobey.
My body aches with a foreign feeling, a cold dread that rips a gaping
hole inside my chest.
Why does my heart feel so empty?
I blink out of my daze, my throat feeling raw after telling my dirty little doll
about Bethany. The next day, after that dreadful night, Bethany’s room was
clean and made up just like every day.
But she was absent.
Gone forever.
And she never returned.
For a short while, it was just the three of us.
Until one day it wasn’t.
“Poor, sick Benny,” Jade seethes from inside her cage, her entire body
quaking. “Your parents were just as fucked up as you are.”
Her voice chases away the lingering memories of my sister—a verbal
slap striking my skin and sparking a burning sensation that smothers the
affection I hold for her.
The rage exploding from within me at her crass words is uncontrollable,
vibrating under my skin, needing release.
My fist collides with the wooden panel of her cell and pain resonates up
my arm, causing a twitch in my eye.
She hardly reacts to my outburst, maintaining her tensed and ready-for-
a-fight pose.
“You asked a question, little doll, and here I am gifting you a goddamn
answer,” I bark, the beast inside clawing and growling within my head as
my temper flares.
She doesn’t even flinch.
That needs to be fixed.
I roll my head on my shoulders, my mouth watering at the possibilities
of her punishment.
The many ways I could hurt her.
To make her flinch once more just from the very sight of me.
My dirty little doll will learn to fear me once again.
I’m about to turn her world upside down, shake out everything she so
desperately clings to, and fill up every single part of her…with me.

OceanofPDF.com
Jade
MY NIGHTMARES…
The dark memories of my monster are resurrected right before my very
eyes.
Eight years is a long time.
A long time to attempt to shove this horrible place from my mind.
To squash the guilt of leaving my sister alone with him.
To forget.
But I never forgot.
No matter how hard I tried, the memories were just as fresh as when I’d
been there.
Here.
I’ve always known it would come down to him and me once more.
Because searching, waiting, hunting him is who I became when I left this
place. He consumed me—always.
I may have been free from my cell, but I’d always be caged inside the
walls of my mind—where he’s still the master.
Intoxicating and unyielding.
The only times I’ve ever felt truly free from his binds were during the
moments I was with Dillon.
Connecting with someone who still wants you at your worst and holds
you at your weakest, but more than that, fights along with you for your
vengeance, is something I never found with Bo.
Bo?
My throat is dry from crying and every inch of my naked body
trembles.
At one time, my bare form felt like a vulnerability.
 Like I was missing my armor. Then my badge became my armor. I
fought for that. So now, him stripping me down to my bare skin…
That just pisses me the fuck off.
Benny may have captured little Jade when she was just fourteen.
Naïve and so damn stupid.
He lured her into his van, and she followed.
Fell right into his trap along with her sister.
He’d been able to abuse her.
Rape her.
Torment and starve her.
Until she ran away.
But this time…
Benny doesn’t have little Jade.
He has Detective Jade Phillips.
The department’s most ruthless cop.
A bitch.
A rumored dike.
A fucking nightmare.
Instead of cowering on the bed while holding the bad memoires of my
past still so vivid behind me, I stand my ground.
Watch him.
See him with new eyes. Terror of the punishment he’s planning is
present inside me. The tremor in my hand gives away the turmoil and war
battling in my head as flashes of him hitting me, raping me, torment my
stronger self. I’ve lived through the worst of what he could do to me, and I
will survive anything he does again. I spent my life training to take down
men like him, dreaming of getting the chance to finally catch HIM.
This is my chance.
My fear wanes as the woman I’ve worked hard to become washes away
the scared girl inside me. I’m using my education and experience. I’m
going to profile the fucker.
I’ve survived him before. Freed myself. And this time, I’ll be taking
Macy with me and walking out—not running.
Macy.
Eight years, he’s apparently pined over me.
While I obsessed over him.
Analyzed every single goddamn thing he did to me.
 Everything he did to them.
Including Macy.
My heart aches when I wonder if she has fallen down the crazy rabbit
hole right along with him.
Has he brainwashed her into this…compliant little doll?
The officer in me wants to dissect her mind and rebuild it.
But I’m her sister, and I left, only for him to mold and create whatever
he could conjure up. She couldn’t help being his accomplice to kidnapping
me. Maybe she just missed me too.
Macy.
Guilt swirls and infects every vein inside me. Corroding chills scrape
over my skin like razor blades. A scream I refuse to give sound to aches in
my chest.
Whatever she’s done is my fault. Will she forgive me?
Despite how far Benny’s pushed her sanity, it’s my mission to bring her
back to me.
I will take her home.
Benny will die.
“This won’t work for you. Not this time, Benjamin,” I tell him in a flat
tone, swiping away the last of my tears.
My shame.
If I plan on outsmarting this asshole, I need to drop the scared little girl
act and start acting like the cop I am.
Knowing he was out there and able to lure me into a trap irritates the
detective in me.
Outsmarting him is something I’m capable of and should have done—
seen his game plan and pre-empted this.
His eyes darken and the keys rattle as he opens the door to my cell.
Terror spikes within me, sending my heart racing toward the cliff of sanity.
As it leaps off, I grab hold of the edge and reign it back in.
A multitude of thoughts scramble and collide inside my jumbled brain.
My soul dying with every breath I take as my world spins. Whoosh…
whoosh…whoosh.
The room warps as true understanding settles in my soul. I’m actually
back in this nightmare, in the belly of the darkest beast. Biting down on my
lip to stop the quiver, I inhale and exhale, trying to concentrate on just
breathing and hoping my legs won’t buckle.
 The air becomes hot and thick. Sounds and images are present and
vivid, but I’m floating above it all while looking in, unwilling to experience
the nightmare first hand. It feels like daydreaming or watching a play from
the side of the stage. Noise becomes a humming in my ear and no matter
how hard I try to focus, my vision blurs.
My mind can’t quite grasp onto the reality that Benny caught me again
—that I’m caged with the monster suffocating the air from my lungs by his
presence alone.
A quick glance at my surroundings tells me finding a weapon is not
going to happen.
Hell, eight years tells me that.
Anything worth using is bolted to the floor or outside the cell door.
As the door slings open and Benny’s large frame fills the space, I fortify
myself, sucking in an audible breath.
He’s enormous—bigger than I remember.
I’ll never overpower him.
Not physically.
I’m going to have to fight with my brain.
Shutting the door behind him, he regards me with narrowed, hate-filled
eyes.
His jaw clenches as his gaze skims over my naked flesh. His black T-
shirt is tight across his chest and arms, revealing just how sculpted he’s
become over the years.
I hate him.
Once he shoves the keys into his jeans pockets, he runs a frustrated
hand through his unruly dark brown hair and breathes deep, his chest
puffing up like a gorilla stating its territory.
“You left me,” he murmurs, and I freeze.
Blinking stupidly at him, my brow creases.
Of course I left him.
Throwing that in his face would be unwise, though.
Instead, I lift my chin and stare right at him. “You took what was never
yours to take.”
The room grows impossibly smaller as the manifestation of his true self
appears to morph like a shadow from within him.
His head lifts slowly as his shoulders tense and his neck stretches his
already tall frame. Dark probing spheres glare, boring into me.
 His muscled arm flinches, betraying his intentions, and I brace for the
inevitable slap. But he takes an unsure step toward me.
Those tense shoulders drop as he turns his head to the side, dragging air
into his lungs before his slight faltering gaze studies me with a furrowed
brow. Confusion, maybe?
As if he’s warring with how to handle me.
“I had to have you, and you became mine. My little doll. And then you
ran away.” His brows pinch and his eyes lower. His hand clenches and
unclenches. His jaw ticks when he tenses.
“You hurt me,” I state, wanting to scream, “You’re insane.”
“You were naughty,” he utters. “Bad dolls must be punished.”
Frowning, I study his features. The furl between his eyebrows has
relaxed. His eyes no longer flicker with rage. Instead, there’s yearning there
—a longing that surprises me. He seems to have missed me…or missed the
idea of me.
I’ve always wondered, why me?
But trying to attempt to understand why nobody else seems to satisfy
this need in him, resulting in the butchering of many women, is futile. My
feet move from one to the other as I analyze his posture and try to prepare
myself in case he attacks. His hand lifts to rub over his chest as he shakes
his head at me. The room is stifling and nervous sweat beads on my
forehead. Willing myself to breathe, I hold his gaze in hopes to burrow
inside him and read everything inside his mind. Just to know the answer
that always revisits me. Why me?
I’ll never wrap my head around Benny’s motives and obsession.
Sometimes all the counseling, all the profiling, and studies just don’t give
you the answers.
Reading the case from a detective’s perspective didn’t give me insight
into his reasoning either. You can’t profile a person completely when you
have no knowledge of the makeup that created them. Water glistens in his
eyes, a sadness mutating into a hate-filled beast. I shouldn’t have
interrupted his story earlier. Learning more about his past would answer
questions of his present. I was finally getting information from him—which
is huge—and my inner feisty Jade who wants to kill him took over. Taming
that part of me is going to be paramount from here on out.
My lips open and warm air rushes out on a wheeze as I contemplate
asking him to tell me more.
 Letting him give me all the details of who he is could help me
determine where we are. It could give me the power to manipulate him into
doing something stupid—like leaving the cell unlocked or the key
accessible. He hasn’t moved and waiting for him to descend on me like the
devil dragging me into hell is exhausting me. Tired waves of fatigue crash
over me as I wrack my brain for something to use to stop whatever he plans
on doing to me now that he’s entered the cell.
He mentioned a sister. Maybe losing her is why he let me keep Macy.
He told me once he kept her around for me.
Did he have a weakness for that connection?
Sweeping my eyes over him, I settle on his focused eyes that haven’t
left mine the entire time.
“Benjamin,” I coo, careful to use his preferred name. “I was always
good. Like Bethany,” I say, using his relationship with his sister to my
advantage.
The tensing of his muscles ripple and strain, causing the pulse in his
neck to protrude and pump. His hands clench and body uncoils as he edges
closer, a contrite expression marring his features.
It takes everything in me not to retreat. Little Jade would have
scampered off to the bed to escape him. Fought and provoked him.
Detective Phillips waits for him to make the first move.
“You’re not like her,” he hisses. Terror flashes in his brown eyes, taking
years off his age. “She’s a dead dolly.”
His eyes won’t meet mine and his voice raises in pitch when he speaks
of her. It’s almost childlike.
Swallowing, I lift my chin. I was never good with the emotional shit at
the precinct. Because of Benny. But now that I’m trying to deal with Benny,
I’m going to have to work really fucking hard.
“I’m not dead,” I remind him, my tone level. “But I’m still good. She
didn’t deserve what happened to her.”
His brows pinch together and those maniacal brown eyes glimmer with
unshed tears.
Bethany is definitely a weak spot.
I make a mental note and power forward, taking a step toward him
while squaring my shoulders. “He hurt her. Your father hurt her.”
His full lips part as a choked sound escapes him. In a small voice, like a
wounded adolescent, he says, “She was bad.”
 Vomit rises in my throat, and I pray it will simmer. Panic is not an
option here. Focus, Jade. Fucking focus. “But she didn’t deserve to be
beaten and suffocated to death.” My eyes probe his gaze, searching for the
exposed child who remembers, but he looks away. “She didn’t deserve to be
raped by some pervert,” I edge, risking his vulnerability turning back to
rage.
The word makes him flinch, and his hunched shoulders tense and roll
back. Slowly, he lifts his chin, a deadly twitch flickering his eyelid. A curl
falls in front of one of his dark eyes, hiding it from me. The other one
seems to glow with fury as he pins me to the spot with that hot glare. I feel
it heating my flesh, peeling it back, and exposing the fear buried under the
surface. Lines taunt the corners of his mouth as he snarls, “I’m not a
pervert.” Shaking his head, a growl emanates from within him, soaking him
in its anger, drowning him in pure insanity. His large hands begin grabbing
at his wild hair in frustration. His feet pace from side to side. I provoked the
beast while being locked in the cage with it.
“No,” I soothe in a tone his mother took with him when they were sick,
but there’s a tremble in my voice. “You would never hurt a young girl. Strip
her down. Assault her. Strike and abuse her until she was nothing.”
Liar!
His eyes dart back and forth, as if reeling and connecting the dots from
the past to the present. His feet eat up the small space between us and I take
the last step to show I’m not scared. But it’s a façade, and the terror of him
seeing straight through me lodges a lump in my throat. We’re so close now,
I inhale his scent with every breath I take. It’s familiar—one I couldn’t ever
seem to get away from.
Salty from sweat.
Coppery from my blood…or someone else’s.
The slight lingering of paint that always seemed to remain on his fingers
from whenever he’d paint the dolls’ pretty faces.
So Benny.
Once so frightening.
But now…
I can’t afford to be afraid. Not now. Not ever again.
“Benjamin,” I whisper as I take another step. “Bethany was like me.”
“I’m not like him!” he screams, his hand striking at me like a snake. It
latches onto my throat before I can stop him, and the strength emanating
from him is so much more than I remember.
Rage consumes him as he storms me backward. I clutch at his thick
wrist, clawing at his flesh, hoping to grant myself some air, but his grip
only becomes more unforgiving.
He’ll never forgive me for leaving him.
He’ll never be happy until he’s punished me for it.
Think, Jade.
Fucking focus.
I close my eyes and relax in his hold. His hot breath washes over me
like heat from an opened oven.
Every nerve-ending screams to claw at him.
To fight the motherfucker. But I’m not a stupid little girl anymore.
With a shaking hand, I reach up and finger his curls. A cold breath of air
rewards me as he immediately loosens his grip.
“Benjamin,” I rasp out, my eyes cracking open to find his narrowed
ones regarding me with confusion. “I’m sorry.”
His thumb on my throat stops digging into the flesh, beginning a soft
circling instead. Reverent almost.
“I’m not like him,” he growls. “Do you understand? I’m nothing like
him.”
A tear leaks out, and I hate that I’ve revealed my fear to him.
I expect him to ridicule me for it.
To slap or berate me.
Like old times.
I’m not prepared when he leans in close and inhales me as if I’m the
best damn thing he’s ever smelled. A whimper falls from my lips.
He’s so close.
It’s really him.
I’m really here.
His tongue slides out and its wet heat drags up along my cheek as he
licks away my tear. I tremble, but hold still, for fear of him snapping at any
moment. His nose nudges against mine before he hovers his warm lips over
mine.
The bile rises in my throat, acid stinging the back of my tongue. His
grip still clasps around my neck in a now gentle hold. Swallowing the
distress and keeping my breathing even, I bore my gaze into his.
 “You’re better than Bethany,” he tells me, pride in his voice. “When
you’re not disobeying, you’re perfect.”
He kisses me with a gentleness I don’t remember much of. It completely
immobilizes me. My heart thunders in my chest as my mind ponders how
difficult it will be to manipulate him.
I will manipulate him.
But I can’t show all my cards right away.
Benny is far too smart for that. He’d sense the deception, and my body
would become his whipping post.
“I’m so tired,” I utter against his mouth that’s still barely pressed to
mine.
A chuckle resounds from him that makes my hair stand up straight.
“Then let’s sleep, pretty little doll. It’s been a long day.”
He pulls away and searches my eyes for lies. I let my lids droop and my
body falter to aid my admission. When he releases me to take a step back, I
try not to grab my sore throat and sink onto the bed.
A shiver ripples through me.
“Put this on,” he orders, and I lift my gaze to watch him peel his shirt
off his toned body. Every inch of him is carved and melded around a lean
mass in a way it wasn’t before. Some new scars paint his flesh, and I
wonder how he got them.
Some dolls fight back.
Pretty little doll.
He tosses me the shirt, nodding his head toward it, and I stare at it in
wonder.
“Thank you,” I manage as I yank the shirt on even though it reeks of his
scent. In the past, I’d have been disgusted. Now, I see it as a victory.
A tiny chink in his rock-hard armor.
I’ll break him down one chip at a time.
The bed dips with his weight as he slides in next to me. My muscles
solidify, recoiling despite my will to relax. I hate everything about him and
my body reacts on impulse.
His hard cock through his jeans pushes against the crack of my ass and
a sob threatens to rip free from my chest. Being raped by him is not
something I can prepare my mind for right now. There is too much running
rampant inside my brain to have control, to be able to take me away from
this cell, his body.
 During these few quiet moments, when he is soft and all around me, I
can almost forget what a monster he is. But the memory of my parents’
brutal slaying, Macy’s deranged voice, and Bo missing jars me back to
reality. It’s all too fresh. It’s haunting me, and I want answers. I want to
claw them from him, shredding him until he is flesh and blood, exposed and
weak.
“Benjamin?”
“Hmmm?” He nuzzles his nose into my hair, his chest heaving.
“Is this where you lived with Bethany?”
Risking prying for information this early on is dangerous, but I need to
keep him in these softer moments and use them to my advantage. Learning
about where he has been keeping me and where he murders his victims is
paramount.
“My dad still owns this house, but it’s mine. He’s just too stubborn to
hand over the deed. My grandfather built it. Apparently, he went a little
crazy and thought he needed to hide out. Believed the government spies on
us. So he built a house obscure from the world. Not registered and on
private property surrounded by protected green belt land.”
That’s why we couldn’t find it?
“Does your father live here too?”
“No.” His tone drops an octave.
Stepping away from the topic of his father, I ask, “Did you love
Bethany?”
When his body hardens like a marble statue behind me, I bite down on
my tongue, wincing from the pain and pleading silently that I haven’t
provoked the beast.
“Which one?” he asks, his tone harsh and thick.
Which one?
I twist around to face him. “What do you mean?”
His jaw tenses. There’s the twitch in his eye that usually accompanies a
fit of anger. “I thought you were tired?” he barks. Tendons coil and my
body fidgets as he pulls me closer to him.
“Did you love him?” he questions, his body tightening with the familiar
rage I know so well. “Did you love that unworthy piece of shit?”
Did? Past tense. No.
Bo?
I shake my head in vehemence. “Of course not.”
 What if he’s talking about Dillon? No, he must mean Bo. Either way, I
know the wrong answer here.
He lets out a hiss of relieved breath. “Good.”
Once again, my muscles constrict when he kicks off his boots and they
hit the floor with a thud. He fumbles with the buckle of his jeans, and I
nearly black out from fear, but I quickly blink away the darkness.
Focus, Jade.
He can’t do any worse than he’s already done.
I need to weaken him for me.
He wiggles out of his jeans and his erection strains through his black
boxers. Once lean thighs are now bulging with new, stronger muscles. The
man has become a beast.
A monster.
My monster.
I hate you.
His heat envelops me, making it difficult not to flinch at his nearly
naked body being so close, but I manage. Barely.
“I’ve missed you, dirty little doll.”
With lightning quick speed, he shoves my shoulders backward. My head
hits the mattress with a small bounce. Before I can protect myself, he
heaves his body on top of mine, pinning me beneath him. He grabs both of
my wrists and jerks them above my head, binding them with one mighty
hand. I’m afraid my heart is about to rattle right out of my chest. I wait for
his blows.
His abuse.
His terror.
But it never comes.
His free hand strokes my cheek. A single finger drags over my parted
lips. He parts his own lips and a growl of pleasure escapes him.
“So perfect. So goddamned perfect.” He continues trailing a finger
along my sore throat and past my clavicle. “None of them compared to
you,” he whispers, the words almost inaudible. He’s speaking to himself—
not me.
“Please, tell me more about Bethany,” I plead, desperate to get him from
on top of me.
“You’re not Bethany,” he snaps.
 The cry in my throat dies when I hear a familiar moan coming from
outside my cell. My entire body stiffens, my wild gaze meeting Benny’s.
The desire that shone upon me only seconds before is murdered right before
my eyes as hate comes rushing forward like a leader on a stallion ready for
battle.
Raging.
Furious.
A storm that will decimate all in its path.
“Bo,” I choke out. “He’s alive?”
“How dare you mention his name with me in your bed?”
“This isn’t my bed,” I bite out. “It’s my cage. I don’t belong here,
Benny.” The fighter and stolen girl inside me breaks free despite
suppressing her so the more measured me could take the reigns. Controlling
the intoxicating fear of being raped is impossible. Every inch of my skin
itches, my blood ignites in my veins, and every fibre of my being tells me to
fight to get him off my body. One of us is going down, and it can’t be me. I
don’t think I’d survive it again.
“You belong to me,” he snarls. “You’re fucking mine. This face.” The
palm of his hand splays over my entire head and the weight of his body
keeps me pinned despite my efforts to shove him from me. “This body.” He
grinds against me to drive home his words. “Your soul.”
Panic, sorrow, and anger burst from me like an erupting volcano. My
façade slips and I’m just a woman releasing her hate. Rage, the screwed-up
side of his creation, rears her ugly head.
“Get off me, you motherfucker!” I sob. He releases my hands and I use
them to thunder down punches on him. He attempts to pin my shoulders,
but not before my fists connect with his face. “I fucking hate you! I’m
going to kill you! Get off of me!”
Verbal sickness pours out of me, and I’m lost in a haze of hysteria.
All my training.
The measures I took for if I ever caught him.
My therapy when I first escaped.
None of it prepares me for the complete breakdown of my mind at this
moment.
He has Bo. The asshole invaded my life once more and took another
part of it—took another person I care about, like he has a right to do
whatever the fuck he wants. He then used my sister to kidnap me once more
and bring me back to this hell, leaving dead girls and my own dead parents
along the way. Evil to the core, yet lying above me with devotion in his
eyes.
I hate him.
I hate what he makes of me.
I hate me in this moment.
“Raaaaa, raaaaaaa, raaaaaa,” he roars as I continue to hit him. He
releases my shoulders, sits up, and straddles my waist as he begins hitting
himself. It shocks me so much, I stop moving and just stare up at him.
“Jade!” Bo’s voice penetrates the atmosphere and my eyes bulge.
He sounds so close. Is he in Macy’s old cell?
Benny solidifies above me.
“You say you hate me, but let me tell you something, dirty little doll.”
He lowers his face until it hovers above mine. “There’s a real fine line
between love and hate, and I like that you border there. It makes you taste
sweeter. Make no mistake who you belong to.” Spit sprays over my face
with every syllable he spews out. His breathing is harsh as his hand snakes
down my body, skipping over my pussy.
No, please don’t.
He shoves his finger brutally inside me, causing me to cry out in pain
and humiliation.
He finger fucks me so hard, I know he’ll draw blood.
“S-Stop,” I beg, tears streaming down my temples.
He snarls. “Not until I fuck the way you care about him right from your
whore body! And you remember who you belong to.”
No.
No.
No.
I still my body and swallow away the pain, taking my mind to Dillon, to
scolding him for eating all the doughnuts and for not putting enough
creamers in my coffee. He drank his so strong.
My attempts to zone back out falter when Bo starts mumbling and
yelling finally drags me into the moment. “Jade? Jade?” The terror in his
voice crushes my soul.
He’s here because of me. Everything Benny has done to him is because
of me.
 “Bo, shhh,” I sob, knowing Benny will turn his wrath on him if he
doesn’t.
Garbled, unintelligible words spittle out of him as he yanks his finger
from inside me and slips it into his mouth. “There you are,” he purrs.
Savoring my scent.
Relishing in the way I taste.
Crazy fuck.
Bo’s now roaring from somewhere outside the cell, only worsening my
abuse. “Let her go! Jade!” Bo thunders.
Benny snaps his almost black eyes open and explodes with murderous
fury. “That motherfucker,” he snarls. “Macy, fucking take care of your
goddamned doll before I do!”
Macy?
I try to sit up and reach for Benny, who’s climbing from my body. He’ll
punish Bo if I let him leave this cell.
“Please, come back,” I beg, hiccupping on the venom pouring from my
mouth. Letting him inside my body will poison my soul, and Dillon may
never look at me the same after I leave here.
And I will leave here.
There’s no coming back from doing whatever it takes to make sure I
take the people I love out of here with me. But I can’t obsess over that now.
“Please,” I murmur, but he doesn’t seem to acknowledge my words.
His back muscles tighten and flex like a man morphing into a beast.
With a growl, he’s on his feet, slinging his jeans back on.
“Benjamin, please,” I sob. I start to stand, but my legs are too weak
from the assault and I fall to my knees. Sharp pain seers into the flesh,
sending a wave of throbs up my thighs, settling in my stomach.
“Please don’t.”
Screams on the other side of the wall are otherworldly.
The room spins and the bile wins, making me gag.
“He’s going to pay for touching you!” Benny screams.
I lift onto my wobbly legs once more. When I start to speak again, he
raises his open hand and backhands me across the face. I hit the hard floor
with a thud and my head bounces off the ground with a loud pop.
And then nothing but black…

OceanofPDF.com
Benny
“COME HERE AND TAKE A look. It’s a gift for…well, me, but it’s because of
you I have it, so…”
Her naked body doesn’t move from the floor, but her pretty eyes are on
mine. She’s changed over the years we’ve been separated. Toughened.
Hardened. Her features more severe. Even more, her spirit became a
livewire and is sparking me with every glare she casts my way.
It hurt me to hear the words “I hate you” from her lips.
All I’ve ever done is miss her. I ached and fought through that pain for
eight goddamn years to let her be “free.” But she could never be free of me.
She let Bo, the lame, boring fuck, play on her vulnerability. She wasn’t used
to being without her master and let him put her in a different kind of cell.
Bringing her home was a mercy. She missed me…she’ll see.
“What did you do, you motherfucker?” she hisses.
Curves shape her body—smooth lines, taut stomach, and fuller tits. Her
face, though, is still the same. Innocent, despite her efforts to be crass. She’s
still the prettiest doll I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.
And my God, did she ever feel the same when my finger was inside her.
Tight, hot, mine. Her cunt, despite that worthless trash fucking her, was
every bit as perfect as I remembered. Tasted just as delicious as the first day
I feasted on her. Washing every memory of him ever being near her will be
my mission. She is mine, and mine alone.
We were connecting once again after so long, but that fucker had to ruin
it with his goddamn mouth. I couldn’t even stay hard or get my cock inside
her—my beloved doll—because he was calling to her, causing her tender
looks to become ones of horror. I hated the way she looked at me. How she
feared for him. It ruined the moment.
 That won’t happen again.
“If you disobey me again by talking to that stupid little doll, I’ll cause
pain,” I warn her. She didn’t have to know it wouldn’t be physical. I have
other ways to hurt her. So many other ways.
She shifts; it’s slight and she doesn’t intend for me to notice. But
watching her, seeing everything she does, it causes a satisfied smirk to
crawl up my face. She knows who her master is. No matter how far she
runs, I’m inside her blood.
Her mind.
Her wet cunt.
Her fucking soul.
Deep rooted and unbreakable.
She.
Is.
Mine.
Rising to her feet, she drops her arms, baring all her glory with a firm
glare in my direction. I ripped my shirt from her body while she lay there
unconscious. She was naughty and didn’t deserve my comfort right now. I
roam my eyes over her form, stroking her hard nipples with just one hungry
look. They’re pink and begging to be bitten.
The shaven pussy I was fingering a little while ago is charming and
neat. It summons my yearnings—to shove my cock into her once again—
but that can wait. Soon, I’ll be lapping her wet cunt, and just like before,
she will scream and orgasm to show me her love—over and fucking over
again.
Her skin is darker than it used to be from getting some sun over the
years, but it doesn’t harm her beauty. Thick layers of hair cascade around
her face as she moves toward me. My heart thuds with each step she takes.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
She makes my heart beat and captivates me in a way no other ever will.
So close. Her scent wraps around me, like when my momma used to
spray her perfume and it would soak into my pores, soothing me. My arm
would have no problem reaching in and grabbing her before she could
escape my grasp, but I want her to be loose for this—free to be her feral
self.
 Moving my body from her door, I let her take in the scene before her.
Her eyes widen and a silent scream stills in her throat for a long moment
before breaking loose.
“No!”
She gasps, her small hands gripping the bars, wide, wild eyes
expanding, drinking it all in.
“Bo,” she whimpers. “Oh my God, Bo.” Her furious eyes find mine and
she hisses, “What have you done, you bastard?” Her voice breaks as she
screams at me.
He can’t answer her despite looking directly at my dirty little doll.
“He shouldn’t have talked. The fucker knows the rules. You know the
rules,” I bite out before admiring the pain in her watery eyes. I know I have
a sickness too. The problem is, I don’t know whether she’s a remedy or a
vice.
Her eyes bore into Bo’s lips.
“It’s not as neat as yours when you talked too much, but it wasn’t me
handling the needle this time. It will scar for sure,” I tut, narrowing my eyes
at the sewn-shut lips on the vermin, cunt-fucking, whore-dipping, piece of
dead fucking meat.
Bo, what a pathetic prick he turned out to be, and he’d tasted my
fucking doll. He will die, slow and painfully, and she will watch and suffer
along with him until it’s clear no one touches her but me. Ever. She is never
leaving me again.
Macy was a messy little doll. No matter how many times I tried to teach
her, she always went outside the lines.
My favorite doll gags from inside her cell, no doubt disgusted by her
sister’s handiwork.
“Are you going to be a good girl and listen now? Remember the rules?
You know I hate that mouth when it’s running wild, dirty little doll. Your
words are for me. Your body is for me. Your attention is for me,” I seethe,
my chest heaving with exertion. “Do you need an incentive?”
I regard her with a raised brow, running my hands over the tools laid out
before me. The cool steel of a scalpel handle brushes against the pads of my
fingers, and I find myself smiling. I’ve been itching to inflict some agony
on this fool.
“Benny, please,” she cries, and I want to punish her even more for using
that fucking name. Earlier, she’d done so well calling me Benjamin.
 Ignoring her pleading, I wave the scalpel in front of the predator, Bo.
We refer to him as Stupid Little Doll. This is his home now…until it won’t
be.
I straddle the nearly naked man and glare into his eyes. He’s panicked
and fucking terrified. Good. I want him shitting all over himself anytime he
sees me. My broken doll whines from her frilly princess room, but I ignore
her. She couldn’t keep him quiet, so this is her punishment too. Once she
sewed the fucker’s lips up, I locked her in her room and took her precious
boy dolly away from her.
I always follow through on my punishments.
“You preyed on that girl,” I snarl, baring my teeth to him. “You preyed
on my little doll.”
Sobs from both cells behind me resound in the background. The dirty
doll wants to save the stupid one. The broken one wants him back.
Stupid Little Doll grinds his teeth into dust the moment the scalpel tears
through his flesh. It’s not deep, but enough to remind him who the goddamn
boss is around here.
I lose my mind to my art. Just like all the dolls I paint…such pretty little
faces…I artfully turn his pale chest into something glorious and crimson.
He grunts and groans and struggles to no avail. By the time I’ve finished,
he’s passed out.
Satisfied with my work, I stand and smear the blood away the best I
can. When I’m done, I step out of the way to show the dirty little doll my
handiwork.
Carved into the fucker’s flesh are the words: STUPID FUCKING
DOLL.
I smirk at her, but then she too drops like a sack of potatoes.
Jesus Christ, these people act like they’ve never seen blood before.
She’s mumbling from her cell floor and intrigue has my feet carrying
me too her.
“What?”
“You expect me to love you, Benjamin, but you’re a monster, you know
that right? Your father was an animal and you are too.”
Sorrow saturates me and the rush and roar of my rage wanes with her
words and the memories they invoke. “I wasn’t always like this. The man I
am was created. I found normality within the structure of a deranged,
broken woman and wicked perverted man. It’s the only way I knew. They
were all I had to learn from.”
“You’re not dumb, Benjamin. You know between right and wrong. You
know what you do is fucked up. You’re insane and need help.”
“Don’t try all your cop shit on me, dirty doll. You think you can analyze
and diagnose me?”
Sniffling, she stands and goes to her bed.
I want her to say something else, but I know she won’t.
“I do know the difference between right and wrong, but I just like the
way wrong feels. It’s an impulse, an urge more intense than anything else.”
She doesn’t reply. Instead, she rolls to face the wall and brings her
knees to her chest, turning her back to me. She should rest. I have plans for
her.

I begin humming Momma’s favorite song as I wash up in the sink. The

mirror has long since been replaced.
My dark eyes inspect my reflection.
Same eyes as my mother.
Same dark hair.
Same love for beautiful dolls.
But with thoughts of her bring thoughts of him. I scrub away the blood
as my mind scampers to the past.

Papa’s squad car pulls up outside, and I drop my ball. It’s early—the sun is
still high in the sky.
 Why is he home? Maybe he would finally let me go on a ride with him.
I’ve been dying to turn those lights on.
I stand on the porch, waiting for him to get out. He eventually does, but
then he opens the back door and someone else gets out with him.
We’ve never had visitors here.
Papa said his father built this house when he returned from the second
world war in the early forties. We are isolated and the only time I ever see
other people is when Momma takes me with her to sell her dolls.
My feet refuse to move, can’t move, and I became frozen in place
looking over at a young girl tucked beneath my papa’s big arm.
Streaks mark her rosy cheeks.
Smudged cheeks with tears cleaning a path from her eyes to her jaw.
Dirty little doll.
She has long dark hair and pale skin. Her lips are plump and pink. So
pretty.
“Your sister is home,” he announces, a smile curling his lips up on both
sides.
My sister? Bethany’s been gone two birthdays.
My mouth pops open, but before I can correct his mistake, Momma
pushes open the front door and joins me on the top step of our porch.
“I found her, baby,” Papa boasts. “The perfect little doll.”
“Bethany?” Momma breathes, and my eyes travel from her to this girl
they gave my sister’s name to.
What are they seeing?
Certainly not what I am…
Momma ushers her up the steps and past me. Our eyes clash for the
briefest, yet most intense, moment. She questions me with them, asking me
what madness she’s been brought into.
“Benjamin,” my father calls, and I have to force my head from hers to
look at him.
“Yes?”
“Would you like to come on a ride along?”
Finally!
“Yes.” I beam at him.
Rain dances down the windows and lightning sparks in the sky, causing my
heart to pump when the thunder roars through the night.
The day passed so fast and my mind kept wandering back to the girl
Papa brought home.
Had I imagined that?
“Papa, who is that girl?”
“What girl, son?” His gruff voice carries through the car, but his eyes
remain focused on the road outside. We’re driving so slow, I doubt we
would feel it if we did hit anything, yet he tracks the dark like someone’s
hiding within it and he can find them. Eliminate them.
“The girl you brought home,” I remind him.
My papa doesn’t like me questioning him, but being out in his police car
makes feel bold and safe.
“Your sister, you mean?”
“The girl from earlier,” I correct.
His eyes snap from the road to me and back again. His tone is sharp
and final. “Your sister, Bethany.”
I blink at him in confusion, but am too afraid to ask any more on the
subject.
“Those little punks,” he says after a couple moments and speeds the car
up. My hands grow clammy and my chest begins to pound. The car
screeches to a halt and Papa slings his door open. “Hold it,” he shouts to
someone outside the car. “Don’t move.”
“Shit, run.”
“Run.”
“Don’t move! Police!”
My hands tremble and my blood sizzles, firing through my veins.
“I wasn’t drinking,” a mumbled voice announces.
Papa lets out a growl. “Looks like your friends left you.”
“They’re not really my friends.”
“Get in the car,” Papa snaps. “You’re under arrest.”
“I didn’t do anything…please.”
 Waiting for him to read them their rights gives me an excited flutter in
my gut, but the rights don’t come as the door opens and he leads someone
inside by the back of their head.
This is my dad catching the bad guys.
When the petite form of a girl with blonde hair falling over her soft
features crawls into the back, my breathing hitches. Creeping a peek around
my seat, I watch as her face crumbles and she cries into her hands. The
slamming of the door causes me to gasp, and her hands move, her eyes
finding mine. Creases form over her forehead and her lips move, but no
sound comes out.
“Who is he?” she asks as Papa climbs into the front seat.
“Mind your own damn business,” he snarls. “Do you know how much
trouble you’re in?”
“I wasn’t drinking, I swear,” she stammers. “I’m only fifteen. My
parents would kill me if they thought I was.”
Her wild eyes dart to mine, fear flickering in them.
“You’re going to jail, young lady,” he barks, making her jump.
“What can I do to convince you? Please…”
Her sobs fill the backseat, and it makes my skin crawl. A slow smile full
of menace chills my blood as it arches up his face.
“You little sluts are all the same,” he gruffly speaks, opening the car
door and climbing in the back where she is. Her frame stiffens, her eyes
wide. Grabbing at her legs, he yanks her around and then straddles her
delicate body.
“No, please, I didn’t mean this,” she panics, her breath a wisp in the
heated confinement of the police car. My knuckles turn white as I grip the
back of my seat, unable to pull my eyes from what I’m witnessing.
A tearing sound echoes in my ears and I’m horrified when he stuffs her
panties in his pocket.
“No, stop, sir,” she begs once more.
Leaning over her much smaller frame, he slaps his hand over her mouth
and begins moving his hips forward. I didn’t even see him unzip his pants,
but his bare butt tightens and pumps over her. Her face turns to the side as
the seat cushion soaks up her tears. She makes gurgling and whining
sounds while he grunts above her. It is over as quick as it began and
confusion tightens my tummy. What was he doing? Is that how he punished
her for her crime? I’m thinking we are going to put her in a cell, but Papa
does the opposite. He allows her to get out of the car.
“Next time, I haul you in to the station, you little slut.” His taunt echoes
after her as she takes off running.
He doesn’t speak to me when he gets back in the car, or the entire drive
home. As soon as we return, Momma is on his case.
“Where have you been?” she demands, her hands on her hips.
Papa grunts. “I took him with me on a shift.”
“He looks pale,” she grits out. “Did you see one of your whores?”
“No,” he growls. “I made an arrest is all.”
“Benny, who did Papa arrest?” She turns her body to me, blocking out
the warning eyes of my father.
“A girl,” I whisper.
Turning so fast a gust of wind blows over my face, she begins
pummelling him.
“You fucking pervert! I hate you!” she screeches. “I want you gone!”
“What the hell do you care, woman? I got you back your goddamn doll,
you crazy bitch!” With a closed fist, he pulls his arm back and fires it
forward into Momma’s cheek, knocking her to the wet and muddy floor.
“I won’t go through it again,” she sobs. “You will leave this house.”
He roars and kicks a hole into the wall. “This is my fucking house,
Patricia.”
“Then we’ll leave!” she cries out, her entire body wracking with sobs.
Papa kneels before her, his face screwing into something ugly and evil.
“Leave, and I will bury you along with the other broken dolls. I swear it.
Test me, woman.”
His eyes flit briefly to mine before he stands and storms out the door.
And despite his venomous threats, he doesn’t come back, much to my
surprise. Not until…

“What happened to the girl?” my favorite doll questions, her voice croaky
and dry.
 I blink out of my daze, regarding her. I hadn’t realized I’d been
speaking my thoughts and memories aloud. Her tired eyes flit over to the
stupid little doll for a moment before coming back to mine.
“What girl?”
“The new Bethany?”
“Hmmm,” I say with a sigh. “After a month of being locked in her room
and Momma making her into a perfect doll, I became curious about her and
unlocked her door.” My head shakes. “She darted out of the house quicker
than you.”
“So she’s free?” There’s awe in her voice and I almost want to lie to her.
But I don’t. “No,” I hiss. “She broke the rules and she’s fucking dead.
She had gotten all the way to the wood line before Momma shot her with
one of Papa’s hunting rifles.” I wring my hands together as I make my way
over to her. “Momma locked me in my room for three days without food for
letting her out. She wasn’t right anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Her breath tickles over my face and I inhale
everything that is her while studying her perfect features.
“She had a thin top lip. God, it was ugly. Momma wouldn’t have kept
her long anyhow.”
I turn to leave and a soft, supple touch on my shoulder causes me to
still. “The real Bethany. Do you miss her?”
I don’t really remember missing her or anything about her other than
her sadness and death. Just glimpses in a faded memory and a wave of
anger that was once an ache to have her alive. Now, all of that evades me.
You can’t really miss someone you never really knew, and I didn’t know her
full torment.
“I’m not sure she was even my real sister,” I answer. It was always
something that niggled away at me. Assuming she was because I’d always
known her, but what if she was one Papa brought home for Momma, just
like the rest?
“So, your father…” she starts, but I’m done talking. I’m tired and need
to sort some work.
“Go to sleep, dirty doll.”

OceanofPDF.com
Jade
“YOU NEED MORE MEAT ON these bones,” Dillon grumbles before biting my
bare hip.
A shiver of delight runs through me. We’ve just started sleeping together
and I can’t get enough of him.
“I thought guys liked skinny girls,” I muse with a lifted eyebrow as I
regard him.
His broad shoulders glisten from the morning light shining through my
bedroom window. Every curve of this man is beautiful.
“Correction,” he says as he runs his tongue toward my belly button.
“Men like women with curves. I’m a man, Phillips. All fucking man.”
Heat rushes to my core. He’s teasing me with his wicked tongue. I want
to grip his hair and then bury his face between my thighs.
“But you said I was bony. So you think I’m just a girl? I must say,” I
tease, “you’re confusing.”
His eyes darken as he begins pressing kisses lower and lower until he
reaches my recently shaven pussy. He gently nips at my sensitive flesh,
tugging one of my lips between his teeth. I let out a gasp and rise to my
elbows to gaze at him.
Releasing me, he raises a dark eyebrow. “You’re all woman,” he
assures me with a growl that makes bees swarm around in my belly. “You
just need to eat a little more so I don’t hurt you.”
“Are you threatening me?” My lips tug into a grin.
He pushes a finger inside me and I let out a yelp. “When I fuck you, you
need a little cushion in that ass. Otherwise, you’ll end up with more bruises.
You know I don’t go easy on this hot little body.”
 I let out a whimper as he works up, his finger gliding across pleasure-
filled places within. When his tongue slides between the swollen lips of my
pussy and makes contact with my clit, I jolt on the bed.
He grunts, his breath hot and quick, but he makes love to me with his
mouth and finger. My tits ache to be touched, so I fondle them while he
pleasures me. White-hot ecstasy erupts within me and I scream his name.
Throb after beautiful throb of bliss shoots through me until I’m a weak pile
of bones.
“Besides,” he jokes as he slips his finger out and crawls above me, “I
shouldn’t be the only one doing all the eating around here. Maybe we ought
to get a little steak in you.” His dark eyes flicker with mischief before he
teases my drenched opening with the tip of his large cock.
“A little?” I murmur, teasing him back.
His mouth crashes to mine as he drives forcefully into me. The man is
well hung and nearly splits me in two.
“Ahhh!” I cry out. His cock is thick and forces pleasure from me.
“Nothing little about this steak, gorgeous,” he growls.
I dig my fingers into his shoulders and once again let his perfect body
work my own into a thundering orgasm. When his heat rushes into me, I let
out a hiss.
“You’re too good at this,” I whisper, a smile tugging at my lips.
He leans his forehead against mine and flashes a smug grin. “I know.”
I roll my eyes at him and chuckle. “Detective Douche is in the
building.”
His hips thrust and his cock, which had started to soften, thickens
again, causing him to stretch me. The humor leaves his face as he regards
me with a frown. It causes my heart to skip a few beats.
“Jade…”
“Hmmm?”
“Anyone ever tell you how fucking beautiful you are when you’re
happy?”
I blink at him in confusion. Is that what this is? Happiness? That’s an
emotion I haven’t genuinely felt in a while.
“I guess not,” I choke out, emotion clotting in my throat.
He presses a soft kiss to my nose before giving it a little love bite.
“Well,” he says with a smile, “you look fucking beautiful when you’re
happy.”
 I stare at him in awe. How wonderful would it be to freeze this moment
and bottle it up—to keep it for when life isn’t so happy?
“Jade,” he mutters as he thrusts into me again, slow and methodical,
“you’re beautiful all of the time. When you’re sad or pissed. When you’re
carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. When you’re
determined or motivated. All of the time, a certain glow radiates from you.
Each time I look at you, it’s hard to look away.”
Embarrassment heats my cheeks.
“All of the time, Jade. Always beautiful.”
I blink away the sweet memory, and along with it, bitter tears. I should
be with Dillon, not psycho Benny. With a trembling hand on the wall of my
cell, I lower myself to lie on the bed I detest. Thoughts of Macy being just
beyond the wood separating us has me tense while lingering thoughts of
Dillon make my heart ache. All the plans I told myself I’d stick to flew out
the window. Despite getting him to open up more, the control I long to feel
in this game between us isn’t there. Composure lost to anger and fear.
But I have to quell those overwhelming emotions.
Now is not the time.
I need to be headstrong now. To soothe the pain inside me and
remember my training. If Bo is going to survive this, I’m going to have to
tamper my emotions down. I want to be able to switch them off and become
my own monster.
Dillon’s beautiful, strong face flitters through my mind again. He’s out
there right now looking for me. Blaming himself. Going out of his damn
mind. My heart squeezes in my chest.
Thankfully, he won’t be the only one looking for me.
My friends and colleagues won’t rest until they find me. They’ll help
him. Together, they will find me.
I hope…
Hot tears streak down my cheeks and I quickly swipe them away for
fear Benny will see them. I swallow down my sadness and curl into a ball
on the mattress.
Dillon, my heart constricts, please find me.

OceanofPDF.com
Dillon
THE THROBBING IN MY HEAD gets more and more painful with every passing
minute. My mind is on constant loop—the day she was taken, the evidence
we have, what her fate will be… Her apartment became a crime scene with
tape everywhere, evidence bags, and forensics dissecting every fucking
inch. No matter how much I attempt to analyze the details, I can’t. I’m
frozen in a constant state of panic clouding my ability to handle this case
properly.
What is he doing to her? Will we find her this time? Will she forgive me
for losing her to him?
Is he punishing her, raping her, killing her? I’m going out my ever-
loving mind. My own thoughts feel like my enemy right now and I just
want to roar all this anger, remorse, and fear out of me. He took my girl.
This motherfucker is going to die. There is no sentence just enough for that
animal. My muscles tense and burn with anger. Undiluted rage ripples and
claws beneath the taunt flesh of my body. My skin feels too tight, the blood
too hot. The beast, the killer within me, is ready for vengeance. I needed her
back and retribution toward him in the most brutal way possible.
My hands tremble in equal parts nerves and surviving on pretty much
coffee alone. Since she was taken, I haven’t been able to focus on anything
but her.
“Try to get some rest.”
“You need to eat something.”
“We’re going to find her.”
Everyone around me has become a stranger. Do they not know me at
all? I can’t fucking rest or eat or trust in my colleagues because he took my
girl and I need to get her back.
 When Delaney was killed by her fucktard boyfriend, Chip, I was
mental. I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think. Could not do a goddamn thing.
My only focus was Chip.
Revenge.
Murdering that asswipe with my two bare hands.
I half-assed cases I’d been assigned to. Shut out friends and family.
Ignored everyone on my quest for justice.
And now, I can’t focus while Stanton and Wallis tag team, appointing
roles on the task force. I don’t thumb through the file I’ve been given. I
certainly don’t stare into the pretty hazel eyes of the woman I fell so hard
for. Her picture is pinned to the corkboard, having been reduced from
detective to motherfucking victim.
No…
My gaze bores into the sketch of Benny.
The fucker who took my girl.
I have stared at the rendition of him from Jade’s file eight years ago for
so long, I’ve memorized every single pencil stroke. Every goddamn
shading. Each smudge.
“Detective Scott,” Stanton growls. “My office. Now.”
It’s been twelve hours since she was taken and I feel like we’ve already
wasted too much fucking time on bullshit. I need to be out there exhausting
all leads. Not sitting in here doing not a damn thing.
“Why?” I demand, the word coming out in a hiss.
Chief Stanton gives Lieutenant Wallis an exasperated look before
returning his glare to me. “Because I’m your boss and I said so. Move.”
I stand with a grunt, knocking the chair over behind me. One of the
other officers says something to me, but I ignore him as I stomp out of the
conference room toward Stanton’s office. Once he’s inside, he slams the
door behind him, rattling the framed pictures on his walls. One tilts to the
side and I focus on it until he voice pulls me back.
“You’re losing it, Detective,” he snaps as he rounds his desk and plops
into his chair. “I need you to get with the damn program.”
Blistering rage licks through my veins. I’m a barely contained bomb
waiting to explode. I’d taken my eyes off her long enough for Benny the
fucking psycho to steal her right out from under me.
My lungs burn, my ribs crush in on themselves, and I can’t fucking
breathe. Cold sweat beads along every inch of my skin as if the grim reaper
himself is passing through me. I’ll die if he hurts her.
He will pay for fucking hurting her.
“We’re spending precious seconds arguing about this, Chief. I could be
out there doing my goddamn job,” I spit out through clenched teeth.
He shakes his head in frustration, his skin taking on the bright red hue
when he’s pissed. “Assembling a task force. Discussing leads. Pouring over
the original case. Combing through evidence from her apartment and the
therapist’s home next door. You refused to get some rest, so I let you stay,”
he reminds me with a grumble, “but this is your job and you’re falling down
on it.”
I snap my gaze to his and snarl, “Falling down? Are you fucking
kidding me right now, man? I will do everything in my power to find her. I
fucking love her!”
His eyes narrow and get that gleam he gets when he’s about to throw his
weight around. “You’re off the case.”
I flinch backwards as if he struck me. My mouth drops open, my eyes
widening
“What?!” I bark.
“I said you’re off the case, Detective,” he says in a firm tone. “You’re
too close. Too involved. Quite frankly, it’s a conflict of interest. Marcus is
going to lead the task force. I want you to focus on the recent homicide that
landed on my desk an hour ago.” He tosses me a folder, but I sling it off his
desk with a growl.
“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’ll be working any other case. I’m
the best one for this case,” I snap. “The only one who will do anything to
get her back!”
His face darkens several shades of red and his knuckles turn white as he
fists his hands. “You’re too upset. Because you’re so involved, you’ll ignore
procedure and protocol, mishandle evidence, and chase every damn rabbit
that hops along. Off. The. Case.”
“Stanton, you can’t—”
“Look,” he interrupts, his features softening, “I saw the same thing
happen with Jade when all this started. She didn’t do her job properly
and…”
My eyes narrow and I let out a hiss of air. “Are you saying she’s at fault
for what happened? We had a motherfucking protection detail at her home!
No, Stanton, we’re the ones who failed her. Not the other goddamn way
around!”
Standing abruptly, he points at the door. “You have three seconds to get
the hell out of here before I yank your badge and force you to take leave.”
I glare at him.
“One…”
My jaw clenches in fury. Was he fucking serious right now? A throb
pounds in my head, threatening to explode all over his desk.
“Two…”
Right as he opens his mouth to utter the “three,” I jolt up from my chair
and storm off toward the door. Before I exit, I turn around to send a
murderous look his way.
“You better fucking find her,” I threaten.
If he doesn’t do everything in his power to bring her back to us—to me
—I’ll never forgive him, and he will pay the price of my fury. He didn’t
believe her when she first pointed the finger to her past and said Benny was
coming for her. She was right. We fucking failed her.
He waves me off and plops down in his chair with an annoyed huff.
“You do your job and I’ll do mine.”
Fuck him.

“You have exactly five minutes to debrief me on any leads,” I bark out to
Marcus. “I have shit to do.”
He looks up from his piles of paperwork and regards me with a grim
stare. “Thought you were off the case.”
“Thought you were my friend. Has everyone been smoking crack
around here? Do you really expect me to back away and twiddle my
fucking thumbs?” I bite back.
A sigh escapes him and he nods. “Fine. Sit down and keep your mouth
shut so Stanton doesn’t have my ass too. Now, I want you to stay calm
when I tell you this.”
 Calm isn’t something I’ll ever feel again—not until she’s back in my
arms and that fucker is dead.
I fall into the chair across from him and lift my eyebrows. “Spill.”
“Okay, first, I want you to know so many people are feeling this loss,
Dillon.”
Loss?
My soul screams out in pain, shattering all my nerve-endings and
leaving a raw ache running throughout my body.
Why does he say it like she’s dead? She’s alive. I can feel it. My heart
still fucking beats, therefore hers must.
“She was one of us,” he continues, “so everyone wanted to be on the
scene.” He grimaces. We’ve seen a hundred, fuck a thousand crime scenes
but this one will stick with us all.
“But some evidence has been mishandled. “
Anger swells inside me. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“There’s some misplaced evidence, but we’re confident it will show up,
so don’t be going all crazy on me.”
Unfortunately, misplaced evidence happens, but that’s not good enough.
It’s an error that shouldn’t happen and gets bad guys off the hook. “Fucking
ridiculous,” I growl. “Show me what we do have.”
He tosses a folder at me. “In-home therapist Judy Morrison. She was
Jade’s neighbor and Jade was a patient at one time a while back. We’ve
looked through Morrison’s planner and computer. Jade’s sessions with her
had been brief. There’s nothing of interest, just Jade talking about her
boyfriend at the time, Bo Adams, not understanding her need to hunt for her
sister.” Scrunching his nose, he shakes his head and then points his pen at
another name on the file. “But in the past few weeks, Morrison started
seeing Macy Dahl. There wasn’t much in the files on Macy, but we’ve
determined the name is a fake. DNA obtained from the scene links Macy
Phillips, Jade’s younger sister, to the crime scene. Like you said, she’s
definitely involved. We won’t know how involved until the body’s been
examined.”
I give him a clipped nod, telling him to continue.
“But nothing on this ‘Benny’. No DNA. No hair fibers. No blood. The
perp is slick.”
“And the last name Macy used?”
“Nothing.”
 I groan, running my fingers through my messy dark hair that’s an
obnoxious mop at this point, and then thump the paper. “Anything else?”
“Nada. We can only ascertain that the perps used the therapist to hang
low near Jade until the time came for them to abduct her,” he says,
scratching his jaw. “But we did find something unusual in Jade’s bed.”
I jerk upright, my gut clenching along with my fists. “Benny? Tell me
you have something on that prick.”
Please don’t let it be anything that means he’s hurt her.
His lips press into a firm line. “Not exactly. The lab tells me the fiber
we pulled from her pillow is in fact human. Originally, because of the piece
of netting it was attached to, we thought it was synthetic doll hair. I wanted
the lab to run it against doll hair manufacturers to see if we could narrow
down where it may have originated from.”
“Go on,” I grunt.
Dark circles have begun to form under his eyes. We’re all stressed to the
max at having one of our own abducted. We lost Littleton as well—the guy
was simply protecting Jade. His body had been found in the therapist’s
bathtub with a slit throat. Everyone is feeling this like a personal attack on
the precinct, and for me, it’s tenfold. I’m fucking gutted at having lost the
only person here I love.
“It’s human hair,” Marcus states in a matter of fact tone. “Not Macy’s.
Not Jade’s. Not the elusive ‘Benny’ either.”
“Do we have another potential perp involved?” I demand.
He shakes his head and tosses another file at me. “Victim. Destiny
Roberts. Sixteen years old. The hair belongs to her.”
I frown at him. “Okay…”
“We found her remains years ago in a field.”
Rage bubbles inside me. “Do you mean to tell me—”
“We have reason to believe this ‘Benny’, and maybe his accomplice,
Macy, who remains our only real suspect at this time, have been using
human hair to make these doll wigs,” he states on a groan.
I blink rapidly as my mind sifts through the files Jade and I poured over
containing information about not only her past, but also the cases of other
missing girls and homicides throughout the years. “Jade always came up
short. She’d been looking for wig manufacturers. Problem was, they were
making their own wigs. With human hair from their victims. Fuck.”
 “Which is why,” he swivels in his chair and taps on his computer, “I
have several units, along with some lab techs, headed over to the doll shop
where the homicide occurred to compare hair fibers as we speak.”
My mind reels with this new information.
“I Googled human hair doll wigs,” he groans. “And it’s a fucking thing.
I thought only real wigs were made from human hair sometimes. Turns out,
some people are really serious when it comes to their dolls. They want the
real deal. Difficulty is, most of these dedicated collectors think it comes
from donated hair. Not fucking corpses. Jesus.”
The donut I inhaled earlier just to give me some energy sours in my
belly. “Are these wigs expensive?”
Expensive usually means exclusive. Narrows the field.
“Very. The price of the doll triples usually, and in some cases, could be
as much as five times the price of a regular doll.” He taps the screen. “And
lucky for us, only three websites offer these expensive dolls. We’ve got the
computer forensics team pulling them apart to see if they can dissect
anything useful, like IP addresses or physical ones.”
“Print that list off for me.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a
sigh. “This is more than Jade ever had to go on.”
He nods and gives me a supportive smile. “We’re doing everything we
can to find her. We feel the loss and will do anything it takes to get her
back.” With a wave of his hand, he points toward the door.
“Don’t you have a ‘homicide’ case to investigate? Davis is already on
scene with Jacobs. You may want to head that way.”
Or I may not…
Marcus is giving me an out. His eyes flicker with comradery. I can trust
him to keep me informed while also doing his very best to find Jade.
“On it. I want to be notified with anything—and I mean any damn thing
—that pertains to this case. Stanton doesn’t need to know shit,” I growl.
“Are we cool?”
He nods and loosens his tie. “As a cucumber.”
I rise from my seat and start toward the door. When I’m nearly out, he
calls to me.
“We’re going to get her back, Dillon.”
I tip my head once. “You bet your ass we are.”
A sigh escapes me as I snatch up the list from the printer and slam
through the exit.
The alternative isn’t something I’m willing to accept.

OceanofPDF.com
Jade
“CAN I PLAY THE SONG?” Macy questions as she holds the jewelry box in her
small hands. “Please?”
I look up from my science book and frown. “Last time you turned the
dial too many times and Daddy had to take it apart to fix it.”
Her bottom lip wobbles and guilt trickles through me.
“Ugh,” I groan, tossing my book on the bed. “Twist it three times. If it
starts to feel tight, don’t turn the knob anymore.”
She beams at me and slowly turns the small metal dial. Her twinkling
eyes meet mine as she sets the box down on the nightstand situated between
our two beds. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
She lifts the lid and sweet music begins to play. The little ballerina in
the pale pink leotard spins along with the song. My sister smiles the entire
time it plays.
I jolt awake and swear the music continues to play outside my dream.
As soon as I take in my surroundings, I realize the dream was more
preferable to this nightmare.
Something pokes through the bars of my prison and flutters to the
ground. On weak, shaky legs, I make my way over to the envelope. It’s
addressed to: Dirty Little Doll.
Frowning, I tear it open and read the letter written in pink crayon.
Dirty Little Doll,
You are invited to a tea party.
Dress pretty and don’t be late!
XOXO,
Broken Little Doll
 I’m still gaping at the letter written so childlike when light blue material
gets shoved through the bars. A frilly dress drops to the floor.
“The tea party starts in ten minutes,” Macy’s voice whispers from the
other side. “The guests are already arriving.”
Hope explodes in my chest. If she’ll let me out, then I can get the three
of us out of here. I haven’t seen or heard from Benny since last night. This
could be our chance to escape.
I quickly throw the material over my head. The dress fits almost
perfectly. Low scoop neck that reveals my cleavage. A skirt that poufs out
around me and hangs about mid-thigh. The sleeves are long and cover my
arms to my wrists. Someone has taken the time to sew on lacy
embellishments.
“Macy,” I hiss, careful to keep my voice low in case Benny is nearby.
“Open the door if you can. I’m going to get us out of here.”
“Okay,” she murmurs.
The door clangs and slides open. I prowl over to the opening and peek
my head out, looking toward the doorway leading out of this hellhole.
When I turn my head in the other direction, I see Macy standing in a
beautiful pink dress. She beams at me as she shoves a white cloth into my
face and everything goes black.
The same music box tune wakes me. Only, this time, it’s louder. I
attempt to crack open my eyes, but they resist, sore with burning pain.
Water fills and leaks from the corners as I blink and the room comes into
view as my tears clear. I’m surrounded by pink. Pink painted walls. Pink
stuffed animals. Pink quilt on a small bed. Everything in this room screams
little girl.
My wrists throb with a dull ache. I attempt to bring them into view, but
they’re bound, unmovable. It’s then I realize I’m tied to a chair sitting at a
small table inside this room. The table has been set with real glass teacups
and plates. Little cookies are piled high.
Three place settings.
My eyes dart to the left and I’m both horrified and relieved to see Bo
sitting there. He’s wearing a pair of white briefs and a black bowtie around
his neck. His lips are still sewn shut, which makes my stomach clench. Bile
creeps up my throat, but I quickly swallow it down. His eyes are closed, but
he’s breathing. The cuts Benny had inflicted have scabbed over.
He’s okay.
 Thank God he’s okay.
“Bo,” I hiss, tears burning my eyes. I blink them away so I can focus.
“Bo, wake up.”
His eyes flutter open slowly. Relief washes over him when he sees me
before terror flickers in his eyes like a wild flame. A horrified groan
grumbles in his throat.
“Shhh,” I tell him in a soft tone to calm him. “I’m going to get you out
of here. I’m so sorry.”
He nods and his throat bobs as he swallows.
I crane my neck to look behind me. Benny and Macy are nowhere to be
found. The music stops and panic crawls up my spine.
“Oh, look,” Macy says, her voice squeaky like a small child, “my guests
have arrived.”
Coming into my line of vision, wearing white, frilly knee socks and a
pair of black leather Mary Janes free of scuffs, she beams at me. Her pink
dress poufs out around her waist and her dark hair has been pulled into two
pigtails.
“Do you like my pretty dress?” she questions as she spins around in a
circle, squealing like a child. “Benjamin made it for me.”
I swallow down the words frozen in my throat.
Her cheeks have been painted with bright pink blush and she’s wearing
long, false eyelashes. When she looks over at Bo, she bats them in rapid
succession.
“Dirty Little Doll,” she says sweetly, as if to introduce her guests to one
another, “this is Stupid Little Doll. He’s my favorite doll.”
I shake my head at her. My sister is losing it. “Macy,” I choke out.
“Listen to me. You need to let us out of here.”
Her lips draw together in a pout. “But the party just started.”
Ignoring me, she sets to pouring hot tea into three little teacups, then
adds cream and sugar into each of them. Once she’s done, she sits up and
regards me.
“Isn’t this a lovely day?” she questions, her eyes sparkling with
mischief. “A lovely day to play with my dollies indeed.”
Pants in puffs and huffs come from Bo as he starts breathing heavily.
His chest rises and drops in rapid succession as he gasps at the air. He’s
turning paler, if that’s even possible. Shit, he’s going to pass out if he
doesn’t stop hyperventilating.
 “Calm down,” I beg to him.
Macy pulls her teacup to her lips and sips. “This tea is delicious.”
I try to calm the hysteria building inside my chest. I don’t understand
how she’s just sitting there as if this is all normal.
This. Is. Not. Normal.
“I could taste for myself,” I tell her, my voice shaky with nerves, “but
you’d need to untie me first.”
Her brows furrow together. “I’m not sure I can trust you not to ruin the
party.” She leans forward and grabs my cup. “Here, I’ll help you.” My
stomach sours, but I accept the warm liquid anyway.
“Maybe you should let Bo have some,” I suggest in what I hope sounds
like a calm tone.
“Benjamin told me to keep Stupid Little Doll quiet,” she says
thoughtfully. “If I cut loose the threads, he might yell and upset our
Benjamin.”
He is not my Benjamin.
I shoot my gaze over to Bo, imploring him to play along. Understanding
flickers in his gaze.
“Macy,” I say quickly, my eyes finding hers again, “Bo will be quiet.
This can be our little secret.”
Her eyes flicker with a naughtiness I remember from when she was a
small child. How she’d sneak into the kitchen and take two cookies from
the jar when Momma wasn’t watching. It’s our little secret, she’d tell me as
she handed me the other one.
She rises from her chair and sashays out of my view. When she returns
with a sharp pair of scissors, I’m both relieved and worried. Holding my
breath, I watch her movements.
“Benjamin says I’m broken,” she sings as she flits about Bo, smoothing
his matted hair to the side. “But broken can be beautiful too. Stupid Little
Doll is broken and I love him. He’s my favorite.”
His eyes widen with terror.
“Very beautiful,” I agree with her while giving him a slight shake of my
head so he’ll chill out.
She comes to stand between his parted legs still tied to his chair and
bends over. Carefully, she begins clipping at the thread along the seam of
his lips and my heart stops beating in my chest as I watch her. When she
finishes, she sits up and reveals her work. He opens his mouth wide and
sucks in a deep breath of air. The threads hang from the holes, blood
dripping down into his mouth.
“Good doll,” she praises, patting him on the head before picking up his
teacup. He, like me, graciously drinks the liquid offered.
“Macy, listen…” I start, but she cuts me off with a wave of the scissors.
“Do you want to play a game?”
My heart rate quickens and I shake my head. “Not right now. Maybe
when we get home. You could untie me and I’ll take you home with me.
Then we’ll play any game you want.”
She glances around the pink bedroom, a look of pride in her eyes,
before settling her stare on mine. “This is my home, silly.” Her brows crash
together as she shakes her head and chuckles. “Sometimes you say stupid
things and you’re not even the stupid doll. You’re the dirty doll!”
“Macy—”
“Time to play the game, Dirty Little Doll. Benjamin doesn’t like my
games. But this dolly enjoys them,” she coos as she kneels before Bo.
“Don’t you?”
“Not again,” he murmurs. “Jade…” His eyes are frantic as they dart
back and forth between my sister and I.
“What’s the game called?” I question, trying to distract her.
She twists her head to regard me and then tilts it to the side a little. Her
eyes become dilated and distant. “Good Dolly or Bad Dolly.”
Bo groans when she jerks her head back toward him.
“Are you a good dolly or a bad dolly?” she demands, the scissors
pointing at him in an accusatory way.
“Good doll,” he says quickly, a slight tremor to his voice.
She lifts a dark eyebrow at him. “We’ll see…”
My eyes wide, too stunned to do anything but stare, I watch her drag the
scissors along his flaccid cock hidden behind his underwear. His entire
frame shudders, his face crumbling as he shakes his head no. A sound akin
to that of a trapped animal whines from him.
“Good dolls get hard,” she murmurs.
He closes his eyes and his jaw clenches.
“Macy—” I breathe.
Her head jerks toward me, her eyes practically glowing with fury. “You
will be a quiet little doll or this one will suffer.”
Tears well in my eyes and I let out a choked sob. “Ma—”
 Bo’s scream is so loud, her name dies on my lips. The scissors are
pushed in about an inch deep into his right thigh. Vomit rises in my throat as
the room spins around me.
Where has my little Macy gone?
“No more warnings,” she hisses at me before turning her attention back
to Bo.
She yanks the scissors out of his thigh and a scream wrenches from his
throat. I fixate on Macy as she darts her tongue out and licks the scissors,
tasting the blood. My head shakes in disbelief and I rear back as far as
possible in my seat. She’s lost her fucking mind. My sister needs help.
“Stay still,” she murmurs to him. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally cut
something off. Then you would be a ruined dolly and they don’t get to
stay.”
A low groan rumbles through him as she carefully cuts through his
underwear. Once she’s torn them from his body, she stands and points the
scissors at him.
“You’re not hard.” Her voice is calm and matter of fact.
“W-Wait,” he whispers. “Give me a second.” His eyes dart to mine, his
cheeks streaked with tears.
“Does she get you hard?” she wonders aloud, a slight twinge of jealousy
in her voice. “Does she get everyone hard!” she screams, causing Bo and I
both to jump.
“N-No,” he assures her, his voice shaking badly. “She was my girlfriend
is all. We have a past.”
She taps her chin, as if she’s pondering his words. “You’re right.” Then
she bounces over to me, waving the scissors wildly.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I murmur. “I love you, Macy.”
My words seem to annoy her. With a roll of her eyes, she begins cutting
through the fabric of my dress between my breasts down toward my belly
button. Once she cuts through it, my breasts pop out.
“There,” she bites out. “Now, get hard. You have what you want, Stupid
Little Doll.”
I meet his gaze and beg for him to do what she wants. He closes his
eyes. The poor guy is trying to get an erection despite all the pain he’s in.
“Oh,” Macy chirps. “I see it flinching. You’re such a good doll.” Her
voice is a purr as she sashays back over to him. Her hand grips his semi-
erect cock and she starts stroking him. With each movement, he hardens in
her hand. “So good.”
His eyes open and focus on me. I try my best to keep my tears at bay
and the horror from my features. Nodding my head in encouragement, I
implore him to continue. She may kill him if his body doesn’t comply.
She peers at his gaze still trained on me and sends a dark look my way
before straddling his lap. I gape in horror when she pushes her dress up her
thighs. My sister is bare underneath. Bo lets out a groan when she eases
herself over his cock. His eyes close and he shakes his head no.
I want to scream at her, tell her what she’s doing is rape, but I’m afraid
to utter a word for fear of something else happening to him.
“Do you remember how we play this game?” she questions, her lips
brushing over his bloody ones.
He nods. “Yes, Pretty Little Doll.”
Oh, Jesus. They’ve played this game before.
A loud moan escapes her. “Oh, Benjamin,” she murmurs. “You’re so
good to me. Love me.”
I gape at her in shock, the currents zapping through every inch of me
leaving me almost numb.
Her movements become quicker as she fucks Bo while he’s tied to the
chair. With each bounce, his breath becomes more ragged and harsh. I know
the look in his eye when he’s about to come. He keeps his gaze locked on
mine. I continue to nod my head, assuring him it’s okay.
Nothing about this is okay.
But Bo has to play along or I’m not sure what will happen to him.
“Say it,” she bites out, her head tilted back in pleasure.
“I love you, Pretty Little Doll.”
She drops the scissors to the floor so she can touch herself as she fucks
him. Within seconds, she’s coming with a scream and it’s Benny’s name on
her lips. Bo’s face turns red. All the muscles in his chest tense, his eyes
pinch shut, and then he relaxes as he reaches his own orgasm. As soon as he
finishes, his eyes pop open and find mine, utter disgust, and hatred shining
bright.
My sister has done this to him.
“I love you too, Benjamin,” she whispers, dropping a soft kiss on his
nose.
 She slides off him and his dick is soaked with their juices. I gag, starting
to bring up the tea she fed me moments before, which sends Macy into a fit
of giggles.
“What happened to you?” I choke out. “You’re sick. That’s rape!”
Her eyes narrow and she does that creepy-ass head tilting shit again
while tapping her bottom lip with her fingertip. “Benjamin says we’re not
perverts if we love our dolls and they are of age. That our dollies like
playing our games.”
She picks up the scissors and glares at me before swiping all the dishes
from the table onto the floor. A horrid scream retches from her and I
tremble in fear. Like something out of a wicked nightmare, she climbs over
the table to get to me and hisses in my face, the point of the scissors pushed
against my throat.
“You liked the games Benjamin played with you,” she accuses. “I heard
your moans every night. We’re not perverts because you liked it. He came
inside you just like all my boy dolls have inside me because they love us.
They like it.”
All her boy dolls?
“How many boy dolls have you had?” I croak out.
She smiles. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe I should let you two
fuck. I make all my boy dolls love my ugly little dolls.” She smirks. “He
missed you so much. Yearned at night, uttering your name. He never loved
me like he did you,” she muses in a stoic state before snapping from her
trance and aiming the scissors at me again.
“Macy, you don’t need him to love you. I love you,” I assure her.
A disgusted snarl twists her lips and the scar from so many years ago
forces her cheek to dent. “You left me. Momma and Daddy didn’t care that
I was gone. They were just happy to have their dirty little doll back home.”
The pointed blade pokes my flesh and it stings.
“What the fuck are you doing?” a deep voice roars from her doorway.
Macy shrieks and scrambles away from me. I dart my eyes to find
Benny’s murderous gaze. For once, I’m actually glad to see him here.
“Get on the bed,” he thunders as he yanks his belt off.
She lowers her head and obeys. Tears stream down my cheeks as I
watch him whip her ass with the leather belt.
Whap!
Whap!
 Whap!
“Bad doll,” he growls as he unleashes his fury. She won’t be able to sit
without pain for a week.
“Please, stop,” I beg.
Her eyes find mine and squint in hatred. Who is this girl?
Once he’s finished whipping her, he turns to regard me with soft eyes
before snapping his gaze to Macy. “Why is she like that?” His hand
gestures to my torn dress.
Macy shrugs at him.
His eyes flit from me to Bo, whose cock is flaccid, but still on display.
“Did you play your games with my dirty doll?” he hisses, his entire body
shaking with rage.
“She’s not fucking yours,” Bo snaps.
My gasp is audible, and so is Macy’s cackle.
“Bad stupid doll,” she sings. Her thrashing from her whipping moments
before is a faded memory now as she hisses from her bed toward Bo.
“Shhh, stupid doll.”
Benny’s body ripples and strains as he marches over to Bo and begins
dragging the chair he’s tied to out of the room. Bo’s head shakes from side
to side as he searches for where he’s being taken.
“Don’t hurt him!” I yell after him, but his fury only ignites further. His
eyes laser through me, causing me to wilt inside.
He’s so furious.
When he returns for me, he points his finger toward Macy. “I’m not
done with you,” he warns. She nods in compliance and climbs beneath her
duvet before closing her eyes to sleep.
After cutting my binds with Macy’s discarded scissors, he pushes the
sharp point to my throat. “Get up and don’t do anything stupid. I mean it.
Slicing Bo’s neck has never felt more appealing than right now.”
He breathes like fire into my ear. His body pushes up against my back.
Hot and tense. One arm wraps around my stomach, pinning my body to his.
The bite of the scissors reminds me why I have to play on Benny’s need
for me rather than provoke his monster. Bo’s stricken face as I’m led from
Macy’s cell back through to mine haunts me.
His chair faces my cell and he’s pulling at his binds, to no avail. “What
do you want with us,” Bo screams. His mind is beginning to break.
“It’s okay, Bo,” I whisper, not wanting him to gain Benny’s attention.
 “If you say his name again, I will sew your mouth shut,” Benny
thunders as he shoves me into my cell. I stumble forward, catching myself
before falling to the floor.
Prick.
Turning on my heel, I swallow as Benny moves toward me, closing the
door behind him. His cheeks are red and that tick is present in his coiled
jaw as he clenches his fists. I’m going to be punished.
“You left me for that,” he grits out. Disbelief colors his eyes. “He is
nothing. He was fucking some whore!” He stalks toward me. “Telling me,
in my fucking house, you’re not mine.”
“Benjamin,” I choke.
His feet eat up the space between us as his hands reach out for me and I
block his advance with a backhanded swipe. Wide eyes stare back at me
and my body goes into a fight stance. I can’t take punishment. Surviving it
will take every piece of strength I have. Dragging his eyes over my form, he
barks out a laugh, startling me.
“You think you can fight me?” He advances again. I step from his reach
and throw a punch. I refuse to go down without a fucking fight. I owe that
much to Dillon—to myself.
His head whips to the side from my impact and then slowly straightens
back to glare at me. With the pads of his fingers, he swipes over the blood
leaking from the corner of his mouth. A smile lights his face and he almost
looks beautiful in his madness.
Stepping forward on his right foot, he grasps out with his left hand as I
block with my right arm and raise my leg to kick him in his thigh, trying to
make him lose balance. It backfires. His legs are like tanks, solid and more
harmful than harmed. My shin ignites as an intense, sharp pain explodes
there. His arm wraps around my out stretched leg before I have a chance to
retract it and my stomach drops. Kicking out with his other leg, he swipes
mine from beneath me and I crumble to the floor with a sickening thud.
Pain bursts up my spine, but I manage to keep my head curled forward to
stop from impacting with the floor.
Leaning over me, he tears at the remains of the dress Macy insisted I
wear. I swat at his arms, but it only makes him gain strength—his grip to
become firmer and rough.
Lying naked on the floor, I try to gain composure as my eyes bore into
his.
 “Are you done?” he asks with a quirked brow.
“You used to like your feisty dirty doll,” I counter, pushing a fake smile
to my lips.
“I missed you.” His anger falters and tenderness teases his features.
“Leave her alone, you sick bastard!” Bo yells from behind my cell door.
My eyes close.
Why Bo?
“Motherfucker,” Benny growls, lifting from his crouched position over
me.
“I’m yours, Benjamin,” I rush out.
His feet stutter and he stops his advances toward the cell door, turning
to look down at me.
“Leave him alone and stay here with me.” I plead.
I watch with a hopeful gaze as his eyes narrow. He’s contemplating my
words. With one quick movement, he reaches for me, grabs my arm, and
launches me to my feet. My body hurts all over, but it’s nothing compared
to what I’ve suffered through many times over.
“Why do you let Macy do that to her dolls?” I ask him, trying to take
that lust-filled look from his eyes as he studies my body.
“She has needs too,” he tells me in a matter of fact tone, a smirk tugging
at his features. The fighter in me wants to punch him in the face again.
“Speaking of needs.” His tongue licks over his lips in a salacious manner as
he moves closer to my body. “I want to love my dolly,” he mutters, his eyes
darkening with hunger. “I’ve missed you so much.”
His hand drops to my shoulder and begins its descent over my chest.
My skin hums with irritation, like a layer of dirt, it coats my soul with every
swipe of his fingers. Feeling this filthy, used, and degraded causes my heart
to slow. I can’t let him take all the good Dillon has taught me about myself
—about what’s real, what’s waiting for me.
Anger refuses to waver and the emptiness I used to feel isn’t there. I
won’t let him strip me of myself this time.
When his hand reaches my breast, he circles the nipple in a teasing way.
My flesh reacts to his gentle touch against my wishes, but I don’t berate
myself for it. My body will react to his, and that’s okay. My mind is with
Dillon and he can’t touch that. It’s sacred and can’t be raped, beaten, or
forced away.
“Benjamin,” I whisper. “Please don’t hurt me.”
 His brows pinch together. “You always make me hurt you.”
“I remember how to be good,” I promise. “See, can we just talk?”
He doesn’t answer, letting his hand trail south. Once his hand slips
below my belly button, I suppress a shudder. His descent to the place I want
him least is inevitable.
My eyes close and I think of Dillon. His smile when I razzed him about
eating sweets. The way he promised me all the things we’d accomplish
together. How what we had was special and different.
A sob begs for release, but I fight its escape.
I will come back to you, Dillon.
When Benny’s hands lower over my torso and between my thighs, chills
ripple through my body and a tear leaks out the corner of my eye.
Rough fingers whisper over my pussy and I think of my partner. My
friend. My lover. I think of how easily he drew pleasure from me. How I
loved every second of his touches.
Hot lips are on my neck as his hand expertly massages my clit. If I
focus, I can tune him out. Be somewhere I’m not. Respond to someone who
isn’t here.
“You are a good little doll,” he praises, his teeth nipping at my flesh.
“You missed me too.”
I close my eyes tighter, trying to drive away his voice. My mind cancels
out the sounds, smells, and atmosphere in my prison.
I replace it with him.
Dillon.
Power and strength and kindness and—
My body is betraying me. He knows how to manipulate it to give him
the response he desires. Only Benny can make me hate myself this much. I
fight my own thoughts—self-hatred bowing to the greedy need for carnal
pleasure.
It’s okay, Jade.
It’s okay.
He pushes firmer against my clit and my legs threaten to buckle.
“Oh God!” My entire body quivers with a release I didn’t want. It’s
intense and almost forces my eyes open, but I can’t deal with that vision.
Instead, I cling to what I know makes me happy.
At one time, nothing made me happy.
In this prison, I suffered alone.
 But Dillon will never leave me.
The very idea has me relaxing. With the loosening of my muscles,
aftershocks from my orgasm take hold of me, and I force the guilt out of my
head.
Necessary.
A plan.
This will work.
I will let Benny think he has me—that I want him—and use his
weakness against him.
Fighting Benny sure as hell never worked. Pissing him off only earned
Bo or me more punishment. But playing in his world? That’s something I
can do.
When I force my eyes open, I see him staring at me in wonder. His hand
has gone still, simply resting between my thighs.
“See, pretty little doll? See how good I can be to you? He can hear what
I do to you.” His dark eyes are molten. Love shines in them. Love.
“Is that what you remembered when you said his name?” Bo screams,
disgust dripping from his voice.
Bo.
Shame drowns me, crippling my soul. Tears prick and burn as the
disgrace of my body’s betrayal makes me want to die.
Grabbing me around the throat, Benny pulls me toward the door of my
cell.
No.
The word sticks on my tongue as a haze of mortification clouds my
mind.
He pushes my body, stomach first, flat against the pane of the door.
Ignoring the sting against my skin, my hands clutch the bars to protect my
face from crashing into them.
No.
Please no.
My thoughts scramble for a solution out of this, but it’s too late.
No.
He wrenches my thighs apart with a kick to my ankle, it hums with pain
but it’s nothing compared to what’s to come.
“Please don’t, Benny,” I slip.
Fuck.
 Bo’s eyes burn into me from the situated position Benny put him in—
more than likely for this reason. A tear drops on to my cheek.
I’m sorry, my eyes scream at Bo.
He shouldn’t have to witness this.
“Not in front of him. Please take me to the bed,” I plead, my words a
choked cry. “Benny, please.” Another slip.
“I’ve told you about using that name,” he seethes, but remains still
behind me. His hot breath tickles my ear. “What did he mean about saying
my name?”
“Nothing.”
I feel the warmth of his cock as he frees it from his jeans, hot and thick
settling between my ass cheeks, his erection prominent.
“Please don’t.”
“He needs to know who you belong to.”
“He knows,” I assure him. “He knows. I’m yours, Benjamin!” I scream,
but it’s not enough. Without warning, he shoves himself inside me to the
hilt and my body attempts to recoil at the searing pain. “Punishment, dirty
little doll!” he roars, his hips bucking into me at a brutal force, feeling like
he’ll rip me in half. “Punishment you deserve for leaving me for him!”
Pain ricochets up my cheekbone, but no pain can be more powerful,
more destructive, than the humiliation inside me. My face hits the bars over
and over as he shoves forward, almost lifting me from the floor with the
sheer force of his thrusting.
No!
No!
No!
My mind cries out, but only grunts and painful moans filter from my
lips. Bo is crying, and I want to cry too. For him, for me…for Dillon.
I will have my vengeance before my time has come. Benny will know
my punishment.
I try to turn my head to meet his angry glare, to soften him in any way I
can, but his eyes are clenched shut, his face straining as he ruts his filthy
body into my own.
Fingertips claw at my hips and his frame crowds around me, the sweat
on his skin sticking to mine.
“Feel me inside you, dirty doll?” he questions with a grunt. “Claiming
you? Taking back what’s mine? Do you feel it? I’ll fuck him right out of
you. Who do you belong to?” he growls.
My nipples sting from rubbing against the door panel and my head is
throbbing along with everything from the waist down.
“Tell him who you belong to,” he urges, biting down on my ear. His
teeth pop the flesh and a cry breaks past my lips.
“I’m yours.”
“Tell him!” he orders, thrashing forward. The sound of skin slapping
skin echoes around the walls of my hell.
His palms grasp the sides of my head, pointing my face outside the cell
straight at Bo, who is hunched forward, jerking with silent sobs.
“I’m his.” My face crumbles on the words and a scream high and
strangled rips from my chest. “Arghhhhhhhh!”
“Yeah, scream, dirty doll.” His hands release my head and snake around
my front to pinch and squeeze over my tender breasts. “You blossomed so
much since you’ve been gone. Did he touch you here?” he asks, clutching
tighter and brushing the pad of his thumb over the sensitive buds.
Lost to the humiliation, I don’t answer him. I can’t. My skin burns with
guilt, disgust, hatred.
Before I can wrap my head around his intentions, he releases my breasts
and separates my ass cheeks. “Did he fuck you here?”
No…no!
Wiggling my body to try to break free from his torment gets me
nowhere. His size is too big and he doesn’t wait for an answer. His cock
pulls from my pussy, then he pushes past the tight rings of my asshole. Fire
surges through me as he forces his way into the opening.
The scream that tears from me is otherworldly.
My hands turn white gripping onto the bars of my cell and my breath
wisps from me, leaving me gagging for air.
“You’re bleeding, dirty doll.”
He pulls from my body and I try to stay standing, but without his weight
pushed against mine, my legs buckle and I collapse to the floor.
Taking a deep breath, I swallow the saliva flooding my mouth. Every
inch of me throbs in pain. White spots dance before my eyes and my legs
shake uncontrollably.
When I was taken as a child, I was just that, a child. I knew what
happened to me wasn’t right—that the things he did to my body were
wrong. But now, as an adult, being a strong, well-trained, gun-wielding
agent and still being defenseless against this kind of violation is soul
destroying. If I had the means, I would cut my wrists in this moment. I’ve
never felt so low. So defeated. The ultimate punishment to him would be for
me to kill myself. My terms. Taking away the only thing he appears to care
about.
Dillon’s image, his smile, scent, and comfort cloaks around me,
protecting, stealing those thoughts. I have to survive this to get back to him.
Killing myself is too selfish and cruel to Dillon.
I remind myself I’m stronger than what he breaks me down to. That I
don’t belong here and this is just a moment in time. I will get free from this
monster and I’ll kill him so he can never hurt me again.
A flash sparks in the room, like lightening and my body jolts when a
warm liquid pours over my butt.
The sting causes me to hiss in pain.
“Let me clean you, dirty doll.”
I don’t fight him. I lie limp while he cleans the mess he has made of me.
I hate him.
I hate me.
I hate that I wasn’t strong enough to stop this.

OceanofPDF.com
Benny
SHE’S GOING TO BE MAD at me for a while. I hurt her and seeing her bleed
wasn’t as pleasing as it once may have been. Loving her was all I thought
about. Being inside her. Consuming everything about her—her scent, her
taste, her soul—is all I’ve dreamt about since she left me.
Coming home to find her cell empty nearly caused my heart to rip from
my chest. A fear I’ve never known before crept into my bones and
burrowed down to the marrow.
She left me.
But then I heard her voice coming from the broken doll’s room.
That doll has been more of a problem than she’s worth over the years,
but in an odd way, I grew fond of her. She was to Dirty Little Doll what the
first Bethany was to me and my mind couldn’t allow me to see her as I did
the others. Keeping her kept me close to my dirty doll.
Walking in to see her having one of her tea parties with my dirty doll
fueled the rage living inside my chest.
She knows better than to touch what’s mine. I’ve been fucking teaching
her for years. She seems to provoke punishment. She loves me and any
attention from me is good attention in her broken mind.
Her advances in the past made me sick. I’d had to lock her in her room
for days at a time until she learned she wasn’t like her sister and wouldn’t
get love from me.
Love wasn’t something I thought I’d be capable of after Bethany.
Seeking out the perfect doll became an impossible task until she walked up
to my booth that day. Fresh faced. Innocent. Purity in her eyes. It all
compelled me. She was young, but too young. I wasn’t like my father. A
pervert. I liked my dolls to be a woman.
 Momma was wrong about me.
“I’m cold,” my precious doll murmurs from the floor.
Her body is shaking. I went too hard on her. She hasn’t been with me in
so long, and little dick Bo is no comparison for who has the bigger cock.
Her body forgot how to adjust for me, so she bled.
I scoop her up and she goes limp in my arms. When I place her on the
cot mattress, she scurries close against the wall to escape me.
She will love me again.
She’s just sore, and that’s okay.
Punishing her is a must if she’s going to learn, though.
I slip from her cell to fetch a blanket as she sobs silently. When I climb
into the bed with her, she snatches at the blanket I gift, and I help cover her
shivering frame with its entirety.
“What have you done to my sister?” she croaks out.
Silence hangs heavy in the air before I roll onto my back to stare up at
the ceiling.
“I taught her many things. Gave her books to read so she could gain
knowledge and develop into a woman from the child you abandoned her
as.”
“I’ll regret leaving her for the rest of my life,” she sniffles.
Her body shifts, brushing against me.
“I asked her if she wanted to leave,” I tell her. “She didn’t want to.”
She twists until she’s facing me. “Because you warped her mind.
You’ve turned her as bat shit crazy as you are.”
Not letting her angry jibes rattle me, I smile. “I’m not crazy, dirty doll.”
I lift my eyebrows at her. “Granted, I’m not what most would call normal
either, but normal is like beauty—all in the eye of the beholder, right?”
“No, not fucking right, Benjamin.”
I repress the laugh tickling my ribs. “I have anger issues, but all I ever
wanted was my own doll who wouldn’t be taken from me.”
My thoughts drive me back to Bethany.
“Happy birthday,” Momma cheers, throwing confetti in the air and
watching in wonder as it rains down over my head.
Her smile turns to a frown and the worry brow on her forehead dips.
“Clean that up, Benny. You know I hate messes.”
“Sure, Momma.” I was used to her mood changes by now and often
ignored them.
 “You won’t believe the gift we have for you!” She claps her hands and
spins on the spot before pointing back to the confetti. “Clean that up and
then come outside.”
My mind races with possibilities. She said “we.”
It had been so long since we had another person around.
Pushing past the front door, my eyes cower from the burning light of the
morning sun.
I shield them with my hand while I scan the front yard. The trees keep
our house obscured so we never get cars pulling into the dirt drive, but
today there is one. A big black car with a siren on top.
My papa exits the vehicle with a broad smile. “Hey, kiddo.”
I hadn’t seen him since the night he hit Momma to the muddy floor—the
only night he took me with him to catch criminals.
“Don’t just stand there looking stupid, come here,” he commands.
Momma stands beside him, nodding her head and wiggling her fingers,
gesturing me to them.
The smell of dried hot mud is present in the air. I hate this time of year.
Everything is too hot, dying, and stiff.
“Your papa brought your sister home.”
Grinning a toothy smile at me, he tilts his chin toward the back door of
his car. I take tentative steps in the direction of the back of the car, my eyes
scanning the seats. My motion stills and my heart pounds in my chest.
Dark hair and searching eyes find mine through the glass.
“Let her out now,” Momma tells me, but I can’t move.
What if she runs?
Will Momma shoot her like the last one?
“Goddammit, boy,” Papa huffs, pushing me out of the way and opening
the door. “Come on, Bethany.” He gestures at her, and after a long moment,
she steps out.
She’s smaller than me, but I had a growth spurt over the summer months
and Momma always tells me I’m big for my age.
“Happy birthday,” he says. “Now, take her inside and show her which
room is hers.”
A swat to the back of my head has my legs moving.
“Jesus Christ! Have you not been teaching him a damn thing?” Papa
barks to Momma.
 She hisses at him. “Maybe if you weren’t a disgusting pervert, you could
have stayed around to teach him your own damn self.”
A snap sound resonates in the air, causing me to turn to see Momma
holding her cheek and Papa pointing his finger in her face.
“I don’t know why I fucking bother with you, woman. She’s the last doll,
Patricia. Don’t fucking break this one because I’m done. There will be no
more.”
“What’s your name?” I ask as I usher her inside.
She studies me for a second and little white teeth pop out, biting into
her bottom lip. Her hands cling together and her shoulders shrug.
“Her name is Bethany.” Momma’s voice penetrates my ears and I
startle. I didn’t hear her come inside.
“What is your name?” Momma asks her again, and she again shrugs.
Launching forward, Momma grabs the girl’s arm and marches her down
the hallway to the room that once belonged to the real Bethany.
She tosses her inside and slams the door shut. Then, her gaze finds mine
as she points to the bolt on the top of the door. “If you touch this, you will
be punished. Do you understand me?”
I nod my head yes, but it isn’t enough. She barrels toward me and
smacks me across the face. It stings, but more like a bee sting than anything
else.
“Use your words, Benny.”
I swallow. “Yes, Momma.”
“Good. Now, come to the attic with me,” she says in a much calmer
tone. “I have dolls that need your care.”
We spent that afternoon making pretty little dolls, and when night fell,
Momma brought a cake out with dinner.
“Can Bethany have some?” I ask, and she stops sipping her wine.
“Bethany has been bad, Benny.”
Three days pass before she unlocks the door and I’m allowed inside to
take her some food.
The girl is weak and slumped over on the bed. Her hair is untamed and
her dress ruined from her own urine. Momma will be so mad. I fetch water
and a sponge, then help her get clean before handing her one of Bethany’s
old dresses to wear.
“How old are you?” she asks, her voice nothing more than a rasp.
“Twelve. How old are you?”
 “Eleven.” Her eyes keep darting to the closed door behind me. “How
long have you been here?”
Confusion causes my brows to pull together. “Always. I live here.”
“I thought that man was a policeman,” she chokes.
“He is,” I tell her proudly.
Her eyes darken. “Then why am I here?”
“You’re Momma’s pretty little doll.”
And she was. She learned to do as she was told at first, but then she
would break a rule or Momma would have one of her bad moods and she
would nit-pick and find reasons to punish her doll. Bethany soon became
part of everyday life. She was allowed to leave her room on occasions
where Momma was having one of her hyper days as I called them. She
would get incredibly happy and erratic, dancing around the place and
cooking delicious treats.
But those days were few and far between. I found comfort in Bethany.
She understood how the turbulent mind of my mother took a toll on me. I
loved her and didn’t know she needed help—not until I started experiencing
the real world by myself. Momma home schooled me and that included
learning to drive at the age of fourteen. By fifteen, she made me do supply
runs alone. At first, it was great being around other people, but the more I
was around those people, the more I noticed how different I was from them.
Boys and girls my age were arrogant and childlike. Girls smiled too
sweetly and wore clothes too revealing. They weren’t pretty little dolls. They
were ugly dolls—marred and broken.
Returning home one day, I found Momma crying in her bed. She was
having a down day and needed to sleep. She sometimes slept for days at a
time during the bad patches.
I walk back to my room and pick up the cookies I bought from the store
—the same ones Bethany favored for treats. She wasn’t allowed them often,
but as we grew older and I was allowed more freedom, sneaking her sweets
became our thing. Quietly, I unlock her door, slip through the gap I create,
and shut the door behind me. “Hey,” I whisper to the bulge in the duvet. “I
have a treat for you,” I tease, wafting the cookies in the air so she can smell
them.
Silence.
“Bethany?”
 Her moan causes me to drop the bag to the floor as I stalk over to the
bed, yanking the covers from her. She moans again. Her skin is slick with
sweat and she’s so hot.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m sick, Benjamin,” she croaks. She is the only person who uses my
full name, and I love that.
I rush from her room to get a bowl and flannel, and come back to find
her stripping off her dress until she’s only wearing panties. Her body has
been developing and I’m not sure if I should be in here with her
underdressed the way she is now.
“Help me, Benjamin,” she pleads, and I walk over to her. As I cool her
skin with the cold water and flannel, I ignore her bareness. “Lie with me.”
She tugs on my shirt until I am beside her, her body curled into mine.
“Everything hurts, Benjamin. What is wrong with me?”
I frown at her in concern. “I think you have the flu.”
Her eyes close, and before long, mine close too.
“Look at that, you disgusting pervert.”
I jolt awake to my junk being prodded. My heart seizes in my chest.
Momma is standing over me, one of Papa’s old batons in her hand.
Embarrassment colors my cheeks and my semi erect dick shrivels as my
Momma glares at me.
“You’re just like him,” she seethes. “A revolting pervert.”
“No, Momma! That just happens in the mornings sometimes. It’s
nothing.” I try to placate her, but it falls on deaf ears.
“She lured you in here.” Her voice is a disgusted hiss. “Look at her all
over you.” Then her head snaps to mine. “Get the rope.”
“No, please don’t make me.” Arguing with her when she’s like this is
futile. “She’s sick, Momma.”
“Get the rope, Benny. Now.”
“Benjamin?” Bethany croaks in a sleepy state.
On wobbly legs, I crawl out of the bed and head over to the closet to
fetch the rope.
“She’s not for playing with, Benny,” Momma chides. “You can’t love my
dolly like that.”
Bethany doesn’t resist as Momma pushes her onto her tummy. We tie her
wrists and legs to each end of the bedposts. I don’t want to hurt her, or
watch her get hurt.
 Momma tries to force the baton into my hand, “Punish the naughty doll,
Benny,” she urges, but I can’t. The baton falls to the floor and disgust and
irritation morphs Momma’s features. She doesn’t look human.
“You little bastard. Your papa was right about you.”
Lifting her arm, she swings the baton and it hits against my forearm.
I’m nearly six foot tall and much broader than her. I could stop her and
fight back, but I don’t.
Her attack is more than physical. It burns through my skin like acid and
scars the soul beneath.
Tainting me.
Breaking me.
She then turns the baton on a still and weeping Bethany. Being used to
her beatings over the years didn’t lessen the effects they had on me
spiritually every time she raised a hand to me. Disappointing her left me
feeling deserving of her punishments.
“Punishment teaches you to do better next time, Benny,” she told me
after the first time she had to punish me.
And she was right. After messing up her pretty dolly’s lips the first time,
she lost her mind. She snatched the doll up and beat me over the head with
it until it was shards scattered around me, my red blood tinting the pale
porcelain debris.
The next time, I took extra care to make the perfect pretty doll and not
ruin her. Ruined dolls were worthless.
Naughty dolls needed to be punished. Bethany and I would learn her
lesson.
“No one wants a dirty dolly,” Momma hisses. “You’re a pretty little
doll.”
Bethany’s screams deafen me and batter away my inner defenses. I’m so
sick watching this. Momma’s crazy infects me, breaking me down and
remolding me, reassembling me. The boy who has only ever known this
depravity becomes consumed by it. I let her hurt us both. We should have
been good.
“Be a good girl, Bethany,” I urge as I follow Momma from her room
once she’s finally done with her punishment.
Over the next couple years, my feelings shift and cloud my mind like a
storm constantly swaying me back and forth.
 She’s my sister, yet my body has urges toward hers when she insists I
sleep in her bed with her. She knows the punishment if Momma finds us, as
do I, yet I catch myself creeping into her room nonetheless. Bethany smells
of vanilla. It’s the same smell Momma uses on her dolls, and I’d never
admit this to either of them, but I hate it. Despite it bringing a sense of
security whenever it surrounds me, I absolutely loathe it.

“I like the smell of roses,” Dirty Doll announces into the dark cell.
My heart thunders in my chest as my thoughts jerk from the past to the
present. I’d become so engrossed in my tale, I thought she’d fallen asleep
beside me.
“Why roses?”
“They remind me of my mother. You know, the one you killed and
strung up like a puppet?” Her voice is full of contempt. “You stole
everything from me, Benjamin.”
“I was an observer, not a participant, Dirty Doll,” I murmur. “Your
sister has a lot of rage inside her.”
“Because of you,” she seethes, and I see the wheels turning. Tears burn
her eyes at the knowledge that it was her sister and not me who butchered
her parents.
“Or because of you leaving her,” I counter as I sit up on the bed. “Now
get some sleep.”
“I hate what you did to me,” she murmurs at my retreating form as I
head toward the door.
“I know, but you will get used to being mine once more. I won’t lose
you again.”
With a loud slam, I shut the door to her cell. When I turn, I find Stupid
Fucking Doll glaring at me.
“You didn’t lose her. She fucking ran away as far as she could from you,
you crazy fuck! She will never love you! You kept her for four fucking
years and she still hated you and ran,” he screams. “It hurts, I know,” he
adds scornfully.
 “You know nothing,” I growl. He was going to have to die. His mouth
was getting on my last nerve.
“Oh, I do. You fucked up. She fucking left me too,” he snipes. “You
took the wrong man.”
I freeze at his words. “What are you talking about?” I crowd his space
as he laughs manically.
“She’s fucking her partner. That’s who she is with. She left me for him.”
“You’re lying.”
His laughter grows louder and her gasp sends a ghost of ice through my
body.
“Bo, don’t, please,” she begs.
“You think that’s funny?” I ask him, and he grins up at me.
Cunt.
I snatch the scalpel from the drainer where I left it and step up to the
now flailing Bo. He grunts when I reach out and grasp a handful of his hair.
With a yank, I tilt his head back. His eyes narrow and he breathes so hard,
snot sprays from his nostrils.
Fucking animal.
Pressing hard on his cheek with the blade, I slice down across the
bottom of his lip and up his other cheek. Pain causes him to wail and
shudder in his seat. My doll reaches through the bars, sniffling for this cunt.
Crimson liquid wells and drips free.
“Laughing now? I suppose you are,” I tease.
Rage bubbles and crackles through my veins as she sobs for this
unworthy prick.
“I hate you! I fucking hate you!” she screams. “I’m going to kill you! I
will not bow to you, Benny. I will not fucking be your dolly again.”
My breath hitches and my heart solidifies in my chest when her face
crashes forward into the bars. A thin river of blood drips down the surface
of her head.
“I’ll make myself broken!” she threatens.
Gripping the scalpel, I retch Bo’s head back and place the blade to his
throat. “Stop that now or I will cut his fucking throat.” My roar echoes off
the walls, rumbling them.
She stumbles back shaking her pretty little head.
Pretty little doll.
 Scanning her wound, I sigh in relief. There’s a cut, but it will heal and
won’t require stitches.
“If you hurt yourself again, I’ll kill him. Do you understand me?”
Silence.
“Do you understand me!” I roar, slicing down Bo’s ear. It comes away
with ease, and he cries. It’s muddled and deep from within.
“There are plenty of slow ways to kill a man, dirty little doll,” I tell her,
flinging the ear toward her cell. She screams out again and rushes the door.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt him again.”
It isn’t easy for me to visit the past, but I opened up for her. If she
understood what it is that made me who I am, she could understand my
needs and be more willing to stay here with me. But now, I find she’s been
keeping secrets from me. Who is this man this stupid doll refers to?
“Are you fucking that partner of yours?”
“No, no I swear. Please, Benjamin, no more.”
My inner jealous beast can’t let this go. She could be lying to protect
him.
Does she love him?
Has he touched her?
I need to know.

OceanofPDF.com
Dillon
EVERY TIME I BLINK, MY living room spins. The thundering in my head has
intensified as a full-blown migraine threatens to steal me from reality. My
phone keeps ringing, but it’s just people concerned about my fucking
wellbeing—nothing about Jade. Mom has tried to buzz through several
times as well, but I can’t deal with her or Jasmine today.
Twenty-eight hours since Jade was taken.
Twenty-eight hours since I’ve slept or eaten anything of substance.
Twenty-eight hours I’ve planned how I was going to rip Benny’s limbs
from him one at a time.
Dying, slowly in quicksand and without any clue how to save myself—
that’s what I’m feeling, gurgling on despair with each ticking second she’s
not found.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
I’m still thumbing through the files Jade had collected over the years
while cross-referencing the one Marcus smuggled to me when the doorbell
rings, over and over, only intensifying my goddamn headache.
With a grunt, I rise from the couch and storm over to the front door. I
don’t look out the peephole before slinging it open.
“What the fuck?” I snarl.
Two pairs of eyes widen and remorse instantly surges through me.
“Uncle Dill Pickle?” Jasmine asks, scrunching her cute freckly nose.
“Are you mad?”
I let out a rush of breath and shake my head as I usher them inside. “No,
kumquat. Just tired. Come on in.”
 Slipping from cop mode into uncle mode is usually easy for me. But
I’m not in cop mode. I’m in psychotic, losing-my-mind, boyfriend mode.
Boyfriend.
Is that what I was? No. Fuck no, there wasn’t a title that could even
label what we were—are.
Mom lifts a greying eyebrow at me in question. Her wrinkled lips are
pursed together in irritation. I mutter out an apology as she passes. When I
smell food, my stomach grumbles loudly.
“Called up at the station looking for you. Spoke to that Marky fella. He
told me you needed some looking after,” Mom tells me as she shuffles into
the kitchen with the takeout bags.
I roll my eyes and make a note to give Marcus a swift kick to the balls
for sending backup. “I’m kind of busy here,” I grumble as I make my way
into the kitchen after her. Normally, I’d love her popping in with food and a
visit from Jasmine, but this is not the day.
She drops the bags on the counter and frowns. “You look awful, son.
What’s wrong?”
My jaw clenches and I shake my head. “Nothing. Getting a migraine is
all.” I rub at my temples before giving her a pointed look. “Work is hell
right now, can we rain check this?”
Her gaze softens. “When was the last time you ate? I’m not talking
about those crummy cop donuts either.”
The donuts are delicious, not crummy, but I don’t correct her, I just
shrug my shoulders. I honestly can’t remember consuming anything other
than bitter coffee and stale day-old donuts.
She reaches into her purse and digs out some medication. Once she’s
shoved them into my grip, she begins pulling plates from the cabinets. “You
really need to take some time off, son. Maybe take a vacation with the nice
girl you spoke about. Jane, was it?”
“Jade,” I grunt as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Once I down
my water and pills, I let out a sigh. “Mom, something terrible has
happened.”
Mom stops scooping mashed potatoes out of a container onto a plate
and looks up at me in question, her wrinkles creasing around her constricted
gaze. “What?”
Not wanting to divulge the true horrors of who has Jade and inflict
undue worry on the woman who has suffered enough torment in her life, I
debate over what to actually tell her. Pretending I’m just tired is impossible.
She sees straight through my bullshit anyway.
“Jade was taken by a very bad man.”
She blinks at me in shock. “Oh, dear God. I’m so sorry. How? Where?”
“He has her and I’ve been working tirelessly to find her, but we have
nothing.” I scrub my face with my palm and take note of the way my facial
hair has grown in some. “I’m so worried about her. I can’t focus, sleep, eat.
I’m so damn powerless, Mom.”
Her eyes narrow and she frowns. “Sweetheart, you’ll find her. You’re
the best cop they have.” She sets the spoon down and opens her arms.
“Come here, baby.”
I swallow the emotion thick in my throat and hug my mother. She
smells of cinnamon, probably from baking with Jasmine. “I love her,” I
admit, my voice nothing but a rasp. “I don’t even want to think about what
that prick is doing to her.”
Pulling away, she glares at me. “So don’t. Thinking about horrible
things will only cloud your judgment. Focus on the clues you have and
forge forward. I wasn’t kidding when I said you were the best detective
there. You’re going to find her, and, son, if you meant those words, then
you have waited too long to introduce us. I’ve been waiting a lifetime for
this moment. My boy finally finding his match.”
I lean against the counter as Mom finishes dishing out the food onto
plates. My mind is on the clues I do have. Earlier today, I’d gone to two of
the human doll hair locations. One was a small shop two towns over. The
other was someone’s house about twenty miles from here. After
interrogating both owners, I quickly deciphered they weren’t involved.
“Breast or leg?” Mom questions.
Neither.
“Both please.”
I’m still lost in thought when my seven-year-old niece bounces into the
kitchen. “Uncle Dill Pickle?”
Forcing a grin to my lips, I turn to the little squirt. She has wide brown
eyes like her mom and a little button nose that barely holds her blue-
rimmed glasses on. Her dark hair has been combed messily into a lopsided
ponytail and I hold back a chuckle remembering Mom had said Jaz does her
own hair now.
“What’s up, kumquat?” I ask, kneeling in front of her.
 She hugs my neck and then holds up a picture. “Is this your friend? Can
I play with her?”
Anxiety spikes through me at seeing the picture of Jade as a fourteen-
year-old girl. I’d stupidly left all my files open in the living room. I hope
Jasmine didn’t see any of the crime scene photos from some of the other
cases.
“Um,” I grunt, plucking the picture from her grasp. “This is an old
photo. She’s all grown up now.”
Jazzy scrunches up her cute nose. “She won’t like me?”
Mom told me Jaz had been getting picked on lately at school by some of
her classmates because of her glasses. It made me want to charge into her
school and wave my badge around. I told Mom I was going to threaten
those little shits into thinking I would send their mean asses to jail. She told
me Jazzy needed to learn to fight her own battles.
I’m still considering shaking up those little assholes.
“Jade would love you,” I assure her with a smile. “She’s a tough cop,
like me.”
Jasmine’s eyes twinkle from behind her glasses. “Does she still play
with dolls?”
Her words send a chill racing down my spine. “No, I’m afraid not.”
“That’s too bad,” she says softly. “I got a new doll today. I wanted
someone to play with me.”
I put my finger under her chin and lift her sad gaze to meet mine. “I’ll
play dolls with you, squirt.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re a boy. Boys play with Nerf guns and balls.
Not dolls.”
Benny loves dolls.
Fucking bitch-ass prick.
“Fine,” I grumble. “You win. When you meet Jade, she can play with
you.” When, not if.
“Let’s eat, you two,” Mom announces.
As I sit down at the four-top table, I can’t help but glance over at the
only empty chair. One day, I want Jade here with my family. Mom would
love the fireball my woman is. After losing her own mother, I can’t help but
think she’d want to know mine. And Jazzy? Everyone loves Jasmine. Well,
except those kids at her school who I plan on throttling.
 Dinner smells amazing, but I don’t have time for this. Every minute I
waste is a minute she could be suffering.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
“My turn to pray!” Jasmine chirps as she clasps her small hands
together, dragging me from my thoughts.
I bow my head and say my own prayer.
Dear God, please help me find my girl.

“Fuck,” I groan out loud, running my fingers through my wet hair.

When Mom and Jasmine left a little while ago, I hopped in the shower.
It was long overdue. While under the hot spray, I ran through all the clues I
had again, which was much easier without the migraine squeezing my brain
into submission.
I’d been going back through the Silvia Collins file Jade and I had been
dissecting, the college kid who ran bare foot just like Jade. The number she
wrote in huge red letters: THIRTEEN MILES?
Memories pierce me as I recall our conversation that day.
“What if he wanted her to run? To send you a message?”
Fuck it. I’m going back to where Jade was first hit by the car and I’m
going to search the area on foot. Thirteen miles. I’ll do a full circle if I have
to, just to make sure we weren’t being paranoid about thinking it was a
message from him—or him trying to give her a clue of how to find her way
back to Macy and him. Maybe I’ll talk Marcus into getting Stanton to
authorize air support.
I’m just pulling on a pair of basketball shorts when I hear the front door
slam shut. I start down the hallway. Every time Jasmine comes to visit, she
inevitably leaves something. In fact, my spare room has become her
playroom when she comes over because she has enough forgotten toys to
fill it up. Mom spoils her to no end and just buys her more rather than
collecting all the lost toys. Usually, I’d be chuckling to myself, knowing Jaz
forgot something, but not today.
Today, it just irritates me because I’m wasting time.
The clock is fucking ticking. I hear it with every beat of my heart. I
shouldn’t be eating dinner while making idle chitchat and pretending my
world wasn’t fucking ending. That my sanity wasn’t hanging on by a
thread. Being her big, badass, brave uncle is the best job I’ve ever had, and
today, the hardest. I don’t feel badass or brave. I feel fucking weak and
helpless. Like my heart is corroding and falling away into dust.
“What’d she leave now?” I ask as I round the corner into the living
room.
The half-smile on my face drops in an instant.
Some motherfucker with dark hair stands over my coffee table, peering
at the open files.
“Who the fuck are you and why are you in my house?” I demand with a
snarl. I’m pissed my gun is sitting on my dresser and I must have left my
door unlocked
He looks up at me and smirks. “Just came to visit. I didn’t think you
were worthy of it before, but now…now I need to know. To see what makes
you so special.” His sneer causes the hair to rise on the back of my neck.
“Fuckin’ Benny,” I hiss. Dizziness swirls in my head and the room
seems to expand before zooming in on the one man I’ve visualized
murdering in the most brutal ways possible. Is he really fucking standing in
my living room staring at me?
His eyebrow quirks up, and with it, a twinge of familiarity ripples
through me. I know this prick. I’ve seen that smug look before somewhere.
Where?
Jesus fucking Christ, where do I know this asshole?
Fisting my hands, I start to charge for him, but he holds up a gun.
“Not so fast, hero,” he snaps. “Stay your ass right there.” He shakes the
weapon and smirks. “Seem familiar? I took it from that imbecile you had
guarding my dirty little doll.”
I clench my jaw and attempt to quell the rage threatening to consume
me. “Don’t fucking call her that, you sick fuck. Where the hell is Jade?”
He winces at the name and shakes his head. Reaching down, he picks
up the same picture Jasmine had of Jade earlier. The gun is still aimed in a
steady hand at my chest. “Where she belongs,” he muses, his eyes drifting
over her image. “So perfect.”
A growl rumbles through me. I take a step forward despite having a gun
pointing at my goddamn chest. “Give her back and nobody needs to get
hurt.”
Lies.
All fucking lies.
I’m going to carve his heart out myself.
His brows furl together and his lip curls up. Anger causes his face to
darken a few shades, his tone is disbelief. “She’s not yours. She’s my dirty
little doll. MINE.”
I begin to contemplate whether I can bolt out of the living room and get
to my gun before he puts a bullet in the back of my head.
“A stupid little doll told me she was fucking you. Is that right?” His
entire body quakes with fury.
Where do I know this guy from?
That angry tick.
Brown eyes that seem to glow with barely contained rage.
I know this face.
And not just from the sketch. Sketches never reveal a person’s
mannerisms. The way their face moves when they make different
expressions. Even though I studied that drawing for hours, the man standing
in the middle of the living room is not that person.
The migraine still greedily lingers in my head, preventing me from
wrapping my mind around every single clue.
“What doll, Benny? Do you have others? Just tell me where she is,” I
order in a low tone, my hands up to placate him.
He’s so close. I always feared I’d never find him. And here he is, close
enough to fucking smell. Knowing he isn’t an old, ugly fuck is one thing,
but seeing him in person, the sharp jaw and full lips. He would garner
attention from both women and men. He looks like a fucking walking ad
from one of those teen action flicks. He’s changed from the sketch we have
of him. He’s older and more filled out, which tells me he must not have
been very old when he stole the girls.
What makes someone young, clearly intelligent, and good-looking this
fucked up? Jade always told me most fucked up serial killers were all good
looking with a charm about them. They’re the devil incarnate, all decorated
in the perfect disguise. That was her expertise: profiling. To me, a bad guy
is a bad guy. And this cunt is the worst of them all. His pretty fucking face
and charm won’t work on me or save him from my rage.
He shakes his head and the dark curls on his head bounce with the
movement. The guy is built and solid. But hand to hand, I’d fucking kill his
ass. I’m taller and stronger and have more to fight for. I’d die before letting
him best me.
If I could just get to him without getting shot…
“You’ll never find her. I have her safely tucked away. Nobody will ever
find her,” he says in a sharp voice. “Nobody. She’s mine. Why do people
not understand this?”
“Where do I know you from?” I demand.
He flinches the slightest at my question before baring his teeth at me.
“You don’t. Never seen me in your goddamn life before. Now, answer the
fucking question. Have you put your filthy fucking dick inside my doll?”
With each passing moment, he becomes more infuriated. I’m hoping to
distract him long enough to tackle his ass. I’ve inched forward another foot,
but he’s still a good eight away. His doll. God, I knew he was crazy, but
how much crazy he contains is frightening. This fucker has flown under the
radar his entire life. Someone this messed up must have had run-ins with
the law, or flagged by schools, work colleagues…anything. How was he
living? His clothes are neat and clean. He must have money coming in
somehow. Selling those dolls will leave a footprint, so how has he evaded
us for so long?
“If you don’t answer my question, I’m going to put a bullet in your head
and then fuck it.” He glares, his jaw clenching.
Disgusting motherfucker.
“I’m her partner. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I bite out.
He stuffs her picture into his jean pocket and grabs at his hair with his
free hand, his gaze never leaving mine. “Not what Bo said.” His face
pinches together, as if he’s tasted something sour upon saying his name.
I tense, but level my gaze at him. “Is Bo Adams still alive?”
He chuckles, low and deep. The sound is dark and sinister, causing my
guts to twist. “Not for long. Between my broken little doll, and me, we
fucked him up pretty bad. My dirty little doll was quite upset with the mess
we made.” His murderous gaze bores into mine. “Wanna see?”
 “Take me there,” I demand, surprised and anxious all at once. If I go
with him, I’ll see her, but be at his mercy. He will no doubt kill me.
But not if I can overpower him once we arrive.
He shakes his head, pinning me with narrowed, dark, probing eyes. “I
don’t need to. I can show you right here.”
“You took pictures?”
Sick fucker.
He nods and tugs some Polaroids from his back pocket. I don’t flinch or
waver as he slings them at me. About six or seven photos flutter to the floor.
The one that lands on my bare foot is of Jade. Ignoring the fact that I have a
gun pointed at me, I drop to my knee and pluck the picture up.
“She looks beautiful in red,” he utters, his tone wistful. “I like to capture
her at her best.”
Dear God.
My sweet, beautiful, broken woman.
Rage that was simmering just below the surface builds into a furious
hell storm. The fire inside me whips and lashes, begging me to unleash the
beast so I can annihilate the one before me.
In the picture, Jade lays curled up on a dirty floor. Naked. Bruised. Hair
ratty and all over the place. Blood is smeared along her thighs and down her
backside.
I’m going to fucking kill him.
With a roar, I launch from the floor toward him. A shot rings out, the
blast deafening near my ear. Glass shatters from wherever the bullet hit, but
I’m too focused on my target to care. I tackle him at his waist and we crash
into the end table, knocking over a lamp. He lets out an oomph as we hit the
carpet.
“You fucking psycho!” I scream as I wrestle him for his gun.
The guy may be smaller, but he’s just crazy enough to hold his own. His
strength surprises me. Both of us grunt and hiss and snarl as we fight for the
upper hand. I’m able to whack the gun from his grasp, but not before he
squeezes off another shot. Unfortunately, when I go for it, he knocks it
away from me.
“You’re dead, motherfucker!”
I’m able to free my fist and I slam it across his jaw. He groans and then
laughs. My knuckles smart with pain, but it doesn’t stop me from rearing
my arm back to go in for another hit. He’s able to wiggle away so my fist
hits the carpet instead.
“You were fucking her,” he roars, bucking wildly out of my grip. “You
wouldn’t care this damn much unless your limp dick was inside of what’s
mine! Arghhhhh!” He punches at his own head and it gives me time to gain
my stability.
My discarded beer bottle on the table from earlier catches my attention
and I snatch it up. He sees me reach and comes at me again. With a smash, I
hit it on the edge and bring the jagged end to his throat.
“Time to die, fucker!” I seethe, anger surging me forward. If only Jade
were here to see me end him.
Chief was right. I’m too pissed to follow goddamn protocol.
“Wait!” he bellows. “You kill me and they’ll all die.”
The glass presses into his flesh, but I refrain—just barely—from
pushing it into his throat.
“What the fuck do you mean?” I demand.
His dark eyes flicker with smug satisfaction. “They’re all so thirsty. All
of my little dolls. You kill me and you’ll never find them before they die of
thirst or starvation.”
I glare at him, hatred dripping from every pore in my body as I attempt
to compute his words. If he dies, I may never find her.
Fuck.
“Tell me where the hell she is!”
He huffs. “Fine. Get the hell off me and I’ll tell you.”
I’d be an idiot to believe this asshole. I’m about to tell him where he can
go fuck himself when he rolls me over with unforeseen strength. I get a fist
to my kidneys that steals my breath before he scrambles away. The gun is
nearby, but that would mean turning my back for a brief moment.
I take my chances.
When I roll back around, pointing the gun where he is, he’s pointing
one back at me. “Back up,” he sneers. “I would say it was a pleasure
meeting you, but I’ll save the pleasure for Jade when I get back home.
Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing me again.”
Hearing her real name on his lips actually feels worse than the awful,
sick one he has for her.
I realize he’s already headed to the door. Risking him leaving isn’t
something I can live with. I fire off a shot that shatters the glass on my
storm door, but he manages to slip through.
I don’t have time to locate my phone before hurrying to my feet.
Running through the broken glass, ignoring the bites into my flesh, I charge
into the night after him. He bolts toward a van parked farther up the street
and I squeeze off another shot, but it’s hard to aim in the dark. The bullet
ricochets off the side of his van, missing him. The fucker climbs into the
vehicle and peels out a moment later.
My feet ache as I run down the street after him. His brown van coasts
under a street lamp and I stop dead in my tracks to read the plates.
I’ll get you now, you fucker.
Headache or not, I’ll remember that plate number until the day I die.
Hold on, Jade.
I’m coming for you.

OceanofPDF.com
Jade
“THIS LITTLE LIGHT OF MINE,” a sweet voice sings, “I’m gonna let it shine.
This little light of mine…” Her voice fades in and out, just like my
consciousness. My mind has seemed to crack down the middle. I’m stuck
somewhere between the abuse Benny inflicted on me and the past of being
in Dillon’s arms.
Everything is becoming too difficult.
I’m weak.
Starving.
Thirsty.
Exhausted.
I want to go home.
Not to my dumb apartment. But to him. Dillon is my home.
“Pssst. Dirty Little Doll.” I drag my gaze along the walls to the window
bars of my cell.
Macy’s mischievous eyes stare back at me.
It’s been so quiet all morning. I tried calling to her, but Bo shook his
head, gesturing that her door was open and she wasn’t inside.
Benny lets her wander his house and out in the world alone, yet she
chooses to come back.
The Macy who climbed into that van died that day. She’s now a stranger
who plagues my thoughts and my reality.
“Want to play a game?”
No!
Even though I’m weak and throbbing in places I’d rather not think
about, I manage to pull myself into a sitting position. “Yes,” I croak out. “I
want to play with you.”
 Macy’s eyes light up with excitement. “I was hoping you’d say that.
Stupid Little Doll is too sleepy to play.”
An ache forms in my chest. Benny carved Bo up like he was a damn
pumpkin. It sickened me to see him destroy him. And the very thought of
Bo selling Dillon out hurt my heart more than I want to admit.
Imprisonment will do strange things to you, though.
It’s not Bo’s fault.
I, too, at one time, would have sold another to the devil if it meant I’d
be free of his abuse.
You gave him Macy.
Benny is the monster here. Not Bo.
“Do you have another one of those dresses?” I question, my voice dry
and cracked. “I want to be pretty when we play our game.”
Macy lets out an excited squeal and runs off. I’m not sure where Benny
is, but this is another chance I won’t waste. This time, I’m not going to let
Macy outsmart me by drugging me.
While she looks for the dress, I hobble over to the door and peek out.
Bo’s just staring up at the ceiling. For a moment, I think he’s dead, but then
his eyes shift to mine.
Dead.
His soul has officially left the building, yet his mouth breathes, and his
heart beats.
Macy and Benny stole the goodness inside him. They stomped on it.
Made a bloody mess of what made Bo, Bo. Now, he’s empty inside. He has
nothing left to give. I know exactly how he feels.
“Bo,” I hiss. “We’re going to get out of here.”
He blinks once and a tear rolls out. Maybe I haven’t lost him after all.
“Here you go,” Macy chirps, and I jump, my hand moving to cover my
racing heart. “Put this pretty white dress on. Benjamin made this one
special for you. We’re not supposed to touch it, but he doesn’t have to
know.” Another conspiratorial grin takes over her features.
God, what has he done with my sister?
“Thank you,” I murmur as I yank the material through. It’s all lace and
silk. Beautiful. Too bad I’ll end up ruining it.
I crave to destroy everything Benny loves.
“What game are we going to play?” I question as I tug the material over
my head. It has a zippered back. My heart skips a beat with fear, with
anticipation, with opportunity.
“What do you want to play?” she asks back, her voice small, just like I
remember when we were kids.
“Um, how about hide and seek?” I try.
She giggles and tsks me. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea. If I
couldn’t find you, Benjamin would be so very angry.”
I let out a sigh and turn my back to her. “Okay,” I agree. “We wouldn’t
want to anger him. Can you help me zip up my dress?”
Keys jangle on the outside and my heart skyrockets. When the door
slides open with a loud rumble, I fortify myself. This is going to hurt. A lot.
Macy approaches slowly, and it takes everything in me to hold still as she
starts zipping me up. Once she’s about halfway, I turn so fast, it makes me
dizzy. With a hard shove, I send my sister careening to the floor and her
head hits the door with a loud thump.
“Owww,” she moans, rubbing her head. “Owww.”
Guilt surges through me, but I can’t worry about the fact that I just hurt
my own sister. My sister isn’t inside this girl anymore—Benny is. Leaping
over her dazed frame, I bolt into the hallway outside my cell and frantically
search for rope. Knowing Benny, I don’t have to hunt long. Finding it on a
shelf, I grab a pair of scissors and head back into the cell as she stands up.
“That wasn’t very nice.” She slaps me across the face, but I don’t falter.
I just push her hand away hard, letting her know I’m the stronger of the two
of us.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Please don’t make me.
She snaps at me, like an angry gator, baring her teeth.
“Turn around. Give me your hands,” I bark out, my voice quaking with
nerves.
She doesn’t comply. Instead, she snaps at me again. We don’t have time
for this. I have no clue when Benny will return. Rearing back, I hit her
across the cheek and swallow the shame that bursts forth at striking her.
She doesn’t flinch despite the red print in the shape of my hand glowing
on her cheek, but fat tears roll out of her eyes and she sniffles. “Please,
Jade. Don’t tie me up. I want to go home.”
I’m frozen for a split second as I stare at my sister, her sad eyes and
pouty lips reminding me of that day at the flea market when she wanted
Benny’s doll.
 “She’s crazy,” Bo snarls from behind me. “Don’t trust that fucking
bitch.”
She tenses at his words and the little girl act melts away as she morphs
into a raging monster. With a screech straight from the boughs of hell, she
launches at me. The girl may be all grown up and strong, but I’m a fucking
cop.
I snatch at her hair and wrestle her to her belly. With my knee smashed
into the small of her back, I yank her hands behind her so I can bind them.
“You’re hurting me! You said you wouldn’t!” she screams. It sounds
juvenile, like a brat testing her limits.
“I said don’t make me,” I growl back. “Not that I wouldn’t.”
“Benjamin is going to be so mad at me for opening your cell,” she cries.
“My key is for emergencies.”
“Well, this is a fucking emergency,” I mutter.
She thrashes and screams, but after a few moments, I’m able to restrain
her. As soon as she’s secure, I bolt out the door and begin untying Bo.
“Jade,” he hisses. “I’m so sorry I mentioned Dillon. I just wanted him to
leave. Oh God.” He gags, as if his words taste like sour milk. “What have I
done?” The voice coming from him is distorted, like his tongue is too big
for his mouth.
I shake my head at him, dismissing his betrayal. “It doesn’t matter.
We’re going to get out of here.” I bring a trembling hand to his disfigured
face and stroke his unmarred cheekbone. “But you have to do exactly as I
say. We need to move. Now.”
He nods frantically, letting out a moan of happiness the moment I free
him. Once I’ve helped him to his feet, he starts for the door, limping badly
thanks to the wound Macy gave to him in his thigh.
“Stop,” I hiss.
When I start for my cell, he starts shouting, “What are you doing?”
“We can’t just leave her!” I snap.
“Babe,” he bites out, drool and dried blood flaking from his face, “she’s
fucking crazy.”
Ignoring him, I drag my sister to her feet. She’s oddly calm as I push
her ahead of me. “She’s coming with us.” Shooting him a hard glare and
raising my brows, I dare Bo to argue with me. Wisely, he just shakes his
head and mutters a fucking whatever.
 I force Macy ahead of me as we head toward the doorway I made it out
of once before. We’re getting out of this hellhole. Never again will anyone I
love ever come back here.
“Go,” I hiss in a whisper in case Benny is nearby.
She stumbles down the steps and I have to yank on the rope to keep her
from falling. Bo brings up the rear, wheezing loudly in pain. I tried not to
let my emotions show as I untied him, but he looked like a horror scene out
of a movie and it took everything in me not to gag. The blood is
everywhere. I hate to wonder what he’ll look like when he’s all cleaned up.
He’ll bear the scars both inside and out until the day he dies.
We manage to creep down the stairwell into a kitchen. Now that I’m
moving slower, I attempt to catalogue details of the house. This room
appears normal. Some brown, spotty bananas lie in a bowl on the
countertop. Dirty dishes sit by the sink.
“I need to do those,” Macy exclaims, startling me.
“Not today,” I bite out.
I hand Bo the rope and motion for him to stay. He looks like something
out of some creepy fetish porn show. All crazed, wearing nothing but
bloody scars, gripping onto a girl dressed like a goddamn doll.
With a shake of my head, I skirt around them into the living room. A
single lamp is lit in one corner. Again, everything looks normal. A bit
cluttered, but normal. It makes me want to throw up. Benny is so far from
normal it isn’t even funny.
I skirt past a table when I notice a picture and stop dead in my tracks.
A family.
Daughter. Son. Mother. Father.
Sickness roils through me. I frantically yank the picture from the frame,
fold it once, then shove it down into the front of my dress.
Doubling back to where Bo and Macy are, I push past them, run into the
kitchen, and find two sharp knives. I relinquish one to Bo and his shoulders
slump just the smallest amount in relief. Nodding his head and squeezing
the handle, he holds it outstretched in front of him.
“Let’s go,” I order.
As a herd of broken dolls, we make our way out the front door. The
screen door squeaks on its hinges and I cringe before easing it shut. If
Benny is in the house, I don’t want him finding us. The three of us hobble
off the front porch into the small gravel driveway. Trees obscure the
moonlight, leaving shadows dancing around us like phantoms.
“Where to now?” Bo demands.
I motion for the muddy, barely there path clearly used as a driveway if
the tire marks are any indication. The path curves around a bend of trees.
“Follow the road. If we see headlights, we’ll hide in the thicket.”
He nods and begins limping in that direction, mud coating our feet as
stones dig in and break the skin. Turning, I take my time to study my
prison. An old farmhouse. White paint flakes under the growth of greenery
after years of neglect. In the dim light, I can see some shingles are missing.
That explains the rain that would sometimes drip into my cell. Trees crowd
the entire property, making it almost undetectable if you didn’t know it was
here. No wonder it was never picked up on Google Earth. I’d begun to think
I imagined the house being a house when police turned up nothing in their
hunt. An old swing set overgrown with grass sits off to the side of the
house. And beyond that are dozens of crosses sticking out of the yard. I
don’t remember any of this from eight years ago. All I saw were trees until
that lady hit me with her car. A weep threatens to render me useless. Anger,
fear, resentment, pity, sorrow all mix and swirl through my thoughts, my
heart. It’s just a house, a fucking run down old house and no one found us
here. Unease washes over my skin. Sucking down my emotions and
spinning back around, I jog after Macy and Bo. He’s hustling up the road,
despite his weakened state, dying to get the hell out of here—just like I am.
We walk for a good fifteen minutes, Bo and I remaining silent while
Macy hums that stupid-ass song Benny always sang. It makes me cringe,
but I don’t say a word to her. At least she’s complying. If I had to deal with
her screaming or protesting, it would be a lot more difficult. My own
anxious thoughts keep me occupied—every noise is a threat, every minute
longer we’re out here can mean freedom or danger, and it’s suffocating.
Eventually, we come to another road, signaling the end of what they
must have used as a driveway long ago. Faint hope flutters in my chest, but
it’s soon consumed with nerves. We need to keep moving. My eyes scan the
area noticing a black metal mailbox leaning to one side. The letters are
rusted, but neatly carved into the steel.
Pat’s Dollhouse
“Jade,” Bo whisper yells my name but my feet have carried me over to
the box. My trembling fingers manage to pry it open with a tug and I reach
for the photos I find stacked inside when two headlights beam at us in the
distance.
“Shit!” I hiss. “Let’s go!”
“Do you want to play a game?” Macy asks, grinning like a fool.
“Fuck no,” Bo hisses, bringing his hand over her mouth and the knife to
her throat.
“Bo,” I warn, and he lowers the knife a little.
The car gets closer and I charge around them, hoping Bo will follow
after. They huff behind me, their footsteps slapping off the asphalt of the
road we stepped onto as we run in the direction opposite of where the car is
coming from, needing to get some distance from the house before dashing
into the woods.
The lights become brighter and broader as the car gets closer. The
asphalt turns back into stony, muddy road, like it was unfinished and
abandoned, and I motion for them to follow me into the thick woods. Sticks
and pinecones stab at my feet, but I ignore the bite of pain until I’m hiding
behind a massive tree. Bo and Macy find another larger tree to hide behind.
Our breaths are all heavy and labored as we wait for the vehicle to
approach. It slows when it nears the driveway.
“My Benjamin is going to be so mad,” Macy announces, and Bo pushes
his hand firmer against her mouth.
I continue to watch, waiting, needing to see if the car pulls into the
driveway or keeps going. When it keeps driving, I let out a sigh of relief.
They could help us. As it gets closer, I launch myself from the treeline,
waving my arms.
“Stop!” I call out, and the van screeches to a halt.
Van.
Van.
Van.
Fuck!
“Run!” I scream over my shoulder. His distorted image stares at me
through the windscreen with wide eyes.
Move.
I scream at myself, but I’m frozen, my feet rooting to the spot, lead
filling my bones, preventing me from acting on my own advice.
Everything happens so fast in the next instant. Benny’s figure jumps
from the van, leaving it running, and charges after me. I barely have time to
register it’s really him as he closes in on my space.
Run!
An electric rush pumps into my joints, and with a jolt, I take off running
down the road in the opposite direction to Bo. Benny’s heavy-thudded
footsteps behind me only serve to shoot liquid adrenaline into every single
one of my veins. I sprint as hard as my legs will go, all of my focus on the
road ahead of me, until his footfalls stop and a screech shatters the air.
No.
My feet stutter to a stop.
Bo is shouting out in pain.
I chance a glance over my shoulder and my heart sinks. In the glow of
the headlights stands a naked Bo, his knife now in my sister’s hand.
Thud.
My heart pounds like a beat drum roaring in my ears. I stumble forward,
my hands reaching out.
Please.
I take in Benny’s silhouette standing halfway between us all. His lips
are moving and I register he’s shouting at me as the thunder in my ears
fades to a dull pulsation. His words are a buzzing. I can’t hear what he’s
saying. My focus is on Macy singing.
Macy!
Ignoring my freedom, I swallow the defeat and race toward them, the
sharp knife still in my grip. Tightening my hand around the handle, sweat
glistens my skin and threatens my grip on the blade. I’m so close to Benny.
I twitch with indecision. Should I attack him or try to placate my sister? I’m
dying to stab it in Benny’s chest. I can see it rising and falling. I could end
him if I rush him before he can react. I track my eyes from Benny to Macy
and lose hope.
The crazed look in my sister’s eyes brings the acid in my stomach to
flood my mouth. I start to plead with her. “Macy, please, don’t do…”
Before I can finish the sentence, she leaps toward a broken Bo.
“Let’s play my game!” she screams, plunging the knife into Bo’s throat.
Oh God. It just slid in, like cutting through frosting on a cake.
So easy.
So fucking cruel.
My jaw drops and a scream rings out, shattering the air and forcing a
flurry of birds to fly from the trees overhead. Bo’s body falls backwards
with Macy still attached to it. She’s straddling him, plunging the knife into
him like he’s not even a person.
I can’t breath.
I can’t move.
I can’t save him.
Blood sprays over her and my feet appear to be moving in slow motion
as I take off toward her. My body heavy as I urge it forward.
“Miss Polly had a dolly…” she sings, carving into him and then
dropping the knife. She starts tugging at his head like she’s trying to pull it
clean from his shoulders. “And its head popped off!”
“Noooo!” I bellow, finding my voice. Just as I’m getting close enough
to tackle her, an arm wraps around my waist to stop me. There’s no
restraining me. My body numbs the pain and I fight, tearing, kicking, and
punching.
“Stop fighting,” Benny snaps. “Let it go.”
Benny’s eyes look black in the moonlight as I swivel to try to cut him
with the knife still in my grip. I’m a bear caught in a trap, it’s just too bad
this bear’s too strong for the trap. Not today, Benny. I’ve been pushed over
the edge of sanity.
“All of you are very bad dolls,” he screams. “Stop fighting me!”
But I slash his face.

OceanofPDF.com
Dillon
I SPENT LESS THAN A minute snatching up my keys and gun, not even taking
time to put shoes or a shirt on. I was out the door before my next breath. I’d
forgotten to grab my phone, but figured I could always radio in help.
Losing him isn’t an option.
I haul ass in my Crown Vic out of my neighborhood. It’s a small home
on the edge of town at the end of a dead-end road—peaceful and secluded,
like I prefer. Only one road in and one road out.
I hit the accelerator until I’m doing well over a hundred down the dark
county road. It’s pitch black like my mood. There’s not a taillight in sight,
so I keep my foot pressed to the floor, testing the limits of the shitty car, my
eyes tracking the miles, the route. The pumping of my heart thunders
through every fiber of my being. Time passes as images blur on either side
of me. My only focus is catching him. When I round the corner, a pair of
tailights flash far in the distance through a swarm of bushes.
Got you.
Everything is heightened. Sound, touch, sight. Adrenaline rushes the
blood through my system, causing my skin to hum. I clench and unclench
my hands on the wheel, the wrath swirling inside me like a thunderstorm
stirring the air in the car. This is fucking it. I have him.
The vehicle turns down a road lined with trees. If my memory serves
me right, that road vines through thick forest. It’s private property. Only a
couple houses on the lonely stretch. Either the asshole lives out there in the
woods, or he knows I’m following him and he’s trying to lose me.
No chance, fucker.
The kiss of the moon lights the tops of the trees and the wind sways
them, making them look like waves on a stormy ocean.
 Pounding the steering wheel with my fist I creep up further. If he lives
there, I’m going to be sick knowing she was so close.
It’s dark, but I don’t chance turning my headlights on for fear of giving
myself away. After passing the only houses known in the area, his brake
lights come on. My chest heaves with my breathing. She’s close. I know it.
I can feel the fucking tugging on my soul. I slow and pull over, watching
him, waiting for what he does next. The desire to just shoot him is
overwhelming me. I study the shot, trying to decipher whether I could hit
him from here. What if she’s not close? I could kill the only chance of
finding her.
The internal battle with myself to stay in the car is causing pain in my
head. And still, I wait.
A few moments later, the vehicle starts up again and pulls off the road
into the forest.
What the fuck?
There’s no road there.
Keeping my headlights switched off, I gas it to catch up.
No way.
A fallen tree lying over a mud patch wide enough for a car or van to
drive on comes into view.
Motherfucker.
Jumping from my car, I use all my strength to push the tree from the
path. I debate walking it, but have no idea how far in he’s gone, so I jump
back in the car and take the muddy route about two miles up the makeshift
road, ignoring the cold chill spreading through my veins.
After a few minutes of driving, I round a bend and see his van in the
middle of the road, people standing in the stream of its headlights. Energy
buzzes and pulses through my system.
Fucking bingo! I have you now, and there’s no getting away from me.
I scan the gathering of bodies. My heart skips a beat and then
skyrockets in my chest, almost cracking my ribcage to flee to her. She’s
right there, within reach. If dropping to my knees and thanking the lord was
an option right now, I’d do it. I found her. Damn, my fucking eyes mist with
elation.
Throwing the Crown Vic in park, I leap out with my gun drawn. That
fucker is dying tonight.
 Voices, raised and urgent, pierce the night. They are shouting at each
other and don’t seem to notice my approach.
I’m coming, baby. I’m right here.
“All of you are very bad dolls,” Benny screams, grabbing my girl. “Stop
fighting me.” My finger hovers on the trigger. I want to shoot him through
the head and then unload the entire clip into his chest, just to be sure, but
my girl is in the way.
His disgusting hands all over her skin.
“He’s dead!” he shouts as my girl thrashes and flails in his grip. She
looks feral, manic, and the screams escaping her sweet lips are sounds I
never want to hear from her again. My stomach knots and my heart
plummets. Who’s dead? She’s switching between screaming and sobbing
and my hands tremble to touch her, calm her, save her.
I’m here, baby. You will never have to be here again.
He’s going to die tonight.
I steady my hand as I keep my gun trained on Benny. Jade claws at his
face, causing him to hiss. Something glistens in her hand in the moonlight.
Wet streaks darken Benny’s face. She’s cut him. The thing in her hand is a
knife. Struggling in his arms, she tries to attack again and rip free from his
grasp, but he’s too fucking strong. Her pleas are now soft and her struggles
wane. Worn out and broken, her body becomes limp. Taking a careful step
forward, I try to get him within shot, but the risk is too high. Grabbing her
hand in his and bringing it to his mouth, he bites down, causing her to drop
the blade. Her whimper sears into me, rattling the beast wanting to ravish
Benny until he’s nothing but an unrecognizable stain in the mud. She’s
reaching toward a figure on the floor at her sister’s feet.
“Please. Bo. Don’t kill him,” she begs. I follow her gaze and Bo’s eyes
lock on mine from the ground. It takes me a second to register they’re not
focusing on me. They’re dead and wide open in shock. Blood, crimson
fucking liquid, pumps from his nearly decapitated head. He is clearly dead,
so my girl must be in shock. Macy is decorated in the crimson essence of
poor fucking Bo.
“Fuck.” A hiss rushes from my lips. All eyes turn to me and that one
brief moment is just enough for Benny to startle and release Jade so he can
reach for his weapon. She takes off running toward her sister. Macy
launches forward with a roar and my heart thunders in my chest as her feet
slow on her approach.
 Thud.
Thud.
Thud!
The glint of the knife in Macy’s hand as it plunges forward toward Jade
brings a terror that penetrates my heart.
“Nooo!” Benny and I yell in unison, but it’s too late. My Jade’s body
stills in front of Macy’s. Lifting my arm and aiming my weapon, my eyes
narrow down the barrel of my gun, targeting Macy, but not getting a clear
shot. Hope at coming out of this shit with my woman by my side evaporates
as panic crashes into me like a ten-ton truck. Moving stealthily toward
them, I interchange my weapon from one hand to the other, but it’s
hopeless. My woman is blocking her sister from view and I can’t get a shot
to put her down.
Benny’s scream echoes off the trees and the raw emotion pouring into it
freezes my blood. Benny points his gun in the woman’s direction, and—
POP!
Sheer dread entwines around my heart like a vine of poisonous thorns.
Macy’s form jolts away from Jade, falling backward to the ground.
Thank God.
My feet move on their own accord, our connection pulling me to my
girl.
“Don’t fucking move!” I roar to Benny with my gun raised in his
direction, not taking my eyes from his as I run to Jade. She’s unresponsive.
Her body sways.
“Jade, baby,” I murmur, keeping one hand aimed still on Benny and the
other in the air so I don’t startle her if I touch her. My eyes roam her body
and my chest seizes. The knife protrudes from her abdomen just above her
hip and it’s a shock she’s still standing.
Her eyes glisten with tears and her mouth opens. “Dillon, you found
me.” She attempts to pull the knife free, but her eyes roll back into her head
as she collapses. Catching her means taking the gun off Benny, but I can’t
let her fall.
Tears sting my eyes and a roar rips from deep within me. Scooping her
up, I bark at Benny, who’s now staring down at the girl in my arms.
“Out of the goddamn way!” he growls. “She’s mine.” He aims his gun
at my head for the second time tonight. I cradle Jade in a bridal hold and
push my head against the barrel of the gun, daring him to try as my eyes
meet his enraged gaze.
“She will die if I don’t get her to a hospital,” I snarl, spittle showering
down over her. “We can kill each other later, Benny.” Our glares don’t
waver. “Either kill me or get the fuck out of my way.”
He seems to slip out of a trance, his features softening. Looking back
down at Jade, he whips the gun back toward him and smashes at his head
with the side of it. “Take her, take her!” he screams, blood dripping down
the side of his face.
He stumbles toward where her sister has dropped, picks her up, and
tosses her over his shoulder like a bag of sand, agonizing wails ripping from
his throat. Squeezing my eyes shut and fighting back the sickness creeping
up my throat, I growl and shake my head in defeat. It goes against every
desire inside me to leave here knowing he still has a heartbeat. I’m leaving
him out here—leaving him to cause more pain, more chaos, more death.
But holding Jade’s life in my hands, Benny’s will have to wait. I will take
his life, but holding Jade while she’s in the balance…that day won’t be
today. I charge back toward my car, pleading, “Jade, oh God. Baby, it’s
going to be okay. Stay with me.”
My first instinct is to stop and assess her damage, and the amount of
blood soaking through her white fucking dress tells me I need to get her to
the hospital right now. When I reach the car, I jerk the door open and slide
her into the passenger seat before jumping into the driver’s seat. Pulling her
head into my lap, I apply pressure to her wound. Tears stain her cheeks and
my chest rattles with a weep desperately wanting to break free. With a
squeal of my tires, I peel off down the road.
“Macy,” Jade groans from my lap. Her eyes remain closed and her lips
are turning blue, but she’s murmuring her sister’s name.
“She will be okay. You will be okay,” I assure her, though I’m not sure
whether it’s a truth or a lie.
I shake my head as I think about poor fucking Bo. Blood glistens over
my hand in the moonlight as I firmly clutch the steering wheel. My other
hand pushes against the warm wound oozing her life out through her
stomach.
Stay alive.
Stay with me.
Stay.
 I push my car to its limits, my sirens and lights blazing. Hitting the
highway, I screech at the turn off before blasting my horn and rushing
through the hospital car park. Skidding to a stop at the emergency room
entry, I bolt out of my car and run around to retrieve Jade.
“Let’s go,” I hiss. “Help me!” I shout to a couple nurses smoking out
front as I lift Jade into my arms.
They rush toward me with a gurney in tow and push in front of me. “Put
her down, sir,” someone urges. “Can you tell us what happened?” another
asks.
A sob retches from me as I lay her on the gurney, her arms dropping off
the sides, lifeless. Doctors surround her, obstructing her face from view as
they roll her inside. My feet rush to keep up, ignoring the questions a nurse
is firing at me. Pushing my way to Jade’s side, I grasp at her limp hand and
squeeze it in mine. The chill of her flesh stings the heat of my own. She’s
freezing cold. Make her warm, I beg.
Please don’t leave me.
Moving through doors and corridors, people fade and noise becomes an
insistent hum. We’re soon charging into a room fitted with equipment they
begin pulling wires from and tubes while switching on machines. The noise
grows as people shout medical jargon at each other in authoritive tones. My
eyes start to blur as they begin cutting her dress. Something flutters to the
floor and I bend to retrieve it. A photo. I stuff it quickly into my pocket
without looking at it.
“This is bad,” one nurse murmurs, and my knees almost buckle.
“Can you tell us anything, sir?” another one demands.
“She was stabbed,” I choke out. “Six-inch blade maybe.”
The nurse nods before pointing toward the doors. “Please wait outside.”
“I’m a detective and the responding officer on the scene.”
A male in blue scrubs drags me out of the room into the hallway despite
my desire to throttle him for it. “Is this her blood or are you injured?” he
questions.
I scrub my hands through my hair and start to pace. “It’s hers. It’s all
fucking hers.”
He nods. “Why don’t we get something for you to put on and clean
those feet up?”
I’d forgotten I was shirt and shoeless. “I need a phone.”
“We can get that too,” he assures me. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
 My hand snakes into my pocket and I pull out the photo that dropped
from her dress, studying the image.
No fucking way.
The doors reopen and a nurse approaches me with caution. “The woman
you brought in, do you know who she is?”
“Yes, I’m a police officer and her partner,” I inform her.
She studies my nearly naked frame with a furrowed brow. I look like a
fucking maniac, covered in blood with no shoes on.
“Please tell me she’s going to be okay,” I choke out.
The nurse gives me a grim smile. “My colleagues are working on her
now. She’s in good hands. I recognized the woman from the news—the one
whose kidnapper came back for her.”
She’s not prying for gossip. Simply determining what protocol needs to
be followed and if I am who I say I am.
“Yes, she’s Jade Phillips. But we don’t have the suspect in police
custody, so we need to keep her location secure for now. I’m Detective
Dillon Scott.”
She nods. “We have to phone it in when a victim comes in with stab or
gunshot wounds. Do you have your credentials to prove you are in fact an
officer?”
It’s then I notice two security guards lingering just inside the door of the
first lot we came through.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, “it’s just precaution.”
Knowing they would protect her in case I was in fact the abductor is
comforting and my usually cocky attitude sinks deep inside my gut—where
my heart is.
“It’s fine,” I grunt. “I don’t have anything on me, as you can see, but if
you get me a phone, I can call the precinct and get someone here.”
“That will be perfect,” she says with a smile. “Until then, I’m afraid we
need you to accompany these men back out there.”
Looking to the doors my girl’s behind and then to the guards, I nod my
head in compliance. As long as I’m between her and the front door to stop
Benny if he came here, I don’t mind playing ball.
The male nurse brought me a phone and I’ve been debating over who to call
after seeing the photo Jade had in her possession. My mind is still reeling
about what to do with the overload of information. It’s causing my migraine
to return tenfold. Everything about Benny and these cases hasn’t added up
until now. He had been so undetectable all these years and missing pieces to
the fucked-up jigsaw are beginning to slot into place, revealing the bigger
picture. Problem is, the big picture is a whole goddamn lot uglier than any
of us imagined.
I mash in the numbers on the phone. Seconds later, Riley picks up.
She’s one of the women I used to hook up with when the mood struck,
but that was before I’d been inside Jade and fallen head over fucking heels.
I thought that shit was for teens and giddy women, but damn she hit me full
force, knocking the air from my lungs and rust from my heart.
“Hello,” she says delicately. I’ve probably woken her.
“It’s Dillon.”
She lets out a long breath. “Oh no, things not work out?”
“That’s not why I’m calling,” I tell her, lowering my voice. “I need a
favor.”
The line grows quiet. “You sound weird. Is everything okay?”
“Are you at home?” I ask, knowing her boy Marvin will be there and
she won’t be able to leave him.
“No, I’m just leaving work. Why? What’s up?”
I scrub at my face and scan the lobby. “Can you run by my place? The
door is unlocked. I need some clothes. My wallet and badge are on the
bedside table. I’m sorry to ask you, but I don’t really have anyone else right
now.”
People say goodbye in the background and her breathing becomes more
labored. “Dillon, where are you?”
“Don’t panic, but I’m at the hospital. I had a little accident and need my
stuff.”
“Okay.” She sounds confused and reluctant.
“Please do this for me. I’ll make it up to you.”
 “Are you sure you’re okay?”
No.
“I promise.”

Sixty-nine minutes. They’ve been with my girl for sixty-nine minutes and
no one has come out to tell me what the hell’s going on.
“Dillon.” My name’s called and my eyes scan for the familiar voice.
“Riley. I’m over here.”
She lets out a gust of air through her lips and rushes over to me before
throwing her arms around my neck. “My God,” she says, “look at you.”
“It’s not my blood,” I assure her.
She releases me and scans my body, a frown marring her pretty features.
“Whose blood is it?”
“That doesn’t matter.” Not to her. The less people who know Jade is
here, the better. “Official police business.”
She hands over my gym bag. “Your feet are bleeding.”
“It’s fine.” I shrug off her concern. Dropping the bag to the chair in the
hallway, I unzip it and pull the clean shirt out, quickly yanking it over my
head. She packed a whole outfit. Even boxers and socks.
She’s a mom all right.
My badge catches the light and glimmers. I feel more naked without my
badge than I do without clothes.
I snatch it up quickly and give Riley a quick peck on the cheek.
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
I wave my badge and the two guards who have been on watch duty lift
their shoulders and duck their heads like two naughty puppies.
“Sorry, Officer.” They nod in unison, but they don’t need to apologize
for being wary. If it means they’ll keep Jade safe, they can be as precautious
as they want.
“Can I have an update now?” I ask the doctor, but it comes out firm,
like a demand.
 “I’ll go see if I can get one for you. Can we take a look at those feet
now?” he questions, gesturing a young nurse over. She has on bright red
lipstick and is smiling up at me with excitement. She must be an intern
hoping for patients. How fucked up is that?
I’ve seen Greys’ Anatomy. They practically fight over patients. I won’t
be admitting that I watch that show to her, though. It’s a guilty pleasure no
one has to know about. Work can play on your mind in a job like mine and
sometimes late night binge watching helps switch my mind off.
Fuck.
Jade will ride my ass if she knew I liked those girly shows.
But I’d give anything to hear her razz me about it. To see the way her
lips quirk up on one side and her eyes glitter with mischief. Making fun of
me was one of her favorite pastimes.
Jesus, I hope she’s okay.
“Sir?” the doctor probes.
“Sure.”
“Curtain three,” he instructs. Gripping my arm, she leads me over to a
bed.
“Are you coming in?” the nurse asks Riley, and she shakes her head.
“Thanks so much for bringing this stuff to me. Go home to Marvin and
I’ll call you later,” I assure her.
She steps from one foot to the next and I notice she’s wearing sneakers
and a long trench type coat. If she opened it, I bet she’s still wearing her
work clothes.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, go. I’ll call you.”
Her nose scrunches as she looks between the nurse and me. “Okay. Call
me later, though. Don’t forget.”
Once she leaves, the young nurse pulls the curtain closed. “Your
girlfriend?”
“No.”
She wipes down my feet and the sting is a mere irritation than anything
else.
“Did you forget to put on shoes?”
Why do I have to have the Chatty Kathy? Just before I can open my
mouth and ask her not to talk anymore, the curtain flutters and the male
doctor is back with the nurse who came out to see me when I first came in.
 “Detective Scott,” she says. “I’m sorry for needing the clarification, but
our first concern with situations like this is the safety of the victim.”
I shake my head. “Just doing your job.”
“Okay,” she breathes. “Patient had a puncture to her anatomic, which is
the abdominal side of the hip.” She places her hand on her own hip to
demonstrate, like I wasn’t the one holding the wound when I brought her in.
I know where she was fucking stabbed.
“The best way I can describe it is if you think about the hip as a ball and
socket joint,” she makes a fist and covers it with her other hand, “and
surrounding that is the joint capsule. The tendons and muscle are layers on
top.”
Okay…Dr. McDreamy never taught me about this.
“The knife punctured the muscle, hit the socket, and veered to the side.
She was very lucky. The angle in which the blade penetrated was at a tilt,
and the hipbone is very dense. The blade didn’t have enough strength to
penetrate it and it exited through the side of her hip, so the damage is
mostly superficial. She will have minor scarring.”
“Wait, so she’s okay?” My hand loosens from the sheet I hadn’t realized
I’d been clinging to. The fast thump of my heart slows. “There was so much
blood.” I shake my head in disbelief.
“There are a lot of vessels in the hip and the size of the wound is quite
large for a stab injury. We believe the blade moved while inside her.”
“What do you mean, moved?”
Her brow furrows, her eyes holding concern. “Wedged up and down.”
A shiver races through my body. That sick fucking bitch wiggled the
blade she plunged into her sister.
“Is she awake?”
“She’s sleeping right now. Her body had other traumas that need to be
assessed and we believe she may have some psychological trauma.”
“Can you just speak in layman’s terms?” I snap.
My head aches and my heart is about to send me into cardiac arrest.
“We believe the victim was raped and beaten.”
Anger surges through me. That fucker hurt her, just like I knew he had.
I saw the picture, but didn’t want to believe he’d touched her like that. My
lungs seize and everything in my body tightens as icy tingles shoot through
my veins.
Breathe. Fuck, I can’t catch my breath.
 My hand pounds at my chest as blame shrouds me in its thickening
smog. This is my fault. I didn’t protect her and he stole her. Fucking raped
and beat her. I want to break things, scream, roar into the night at the unjust
of it all. But shame and remorse keep all that anger and pain locked inside
my body, punishing me from the inside out. If I could tear from my skin and
run from my own body, I would. This helpless, worthless feeling makes me
feel more lost than I ever have. Will she come back from this kind of abuse
again?
I’m so wrapped up in my own thoughts, I don’t notice both nurses
saying my name and putting their hands on me. The room spins and all eyes
are on me. Air is sucked from my lungs and the ground tilts beneath me—
tilts and sinks. My skin feels too tight over my bones, but a prick in my arm
draws my attention.
“I’m sorry,” the nurse tells me before my body turns to liquid and I fall
onto the bed.
Into the dark abyss I’d been fighting.
Into nothing.
Black.

OceanofPDF.com
Jade
BURNING.
Stiffness.
Aching muscles.
Throbbing.
God, I hurt everywhere.
Flashes of Benny, Macy, Bo, and Dillon flip by in my mind like pages
of some fucked up horror picture book I’m starring in. My eyes spring open
to avoid them and immediately close when bright light burns my retinas.
My eyes still closed, I attempt to take stock in my surroundings. There’s
something on my lip, blowing cool air up my nose. Moving my hand to try
to reach up and touch it, I stop when I notice wires feeding into the top of
my hand, restricting me. Heat burns over my body and my skin tingles with
sensitivity. I shift my legs to move the warm, but scratchy blanket draped
over my body, but falter when pain slices into my hip.
Crap, that hurts like a bitch. I tug my eyelids to peel my eyes open,
slower this time, and the room eventually comes into focus.
I’m in a hospital.
It’s like déjà vu of eight years ago. From my vantage point, I can see a
man in a uniform standing guard outside the door and a frail looking nurse
sits in a chair at the end of my bed writing on a clipboard.
“Dillon,” I croak, and she drags her eyes from the board up to mine. A
trained smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “Hey, don’t try to move. You
have a nasty injury.”
The memories flood through me. There’s no escaping them, even with
my eyes opened. Truth is, it was a nightmare. A living, breathing, real
nightmare.
 Macy stabbed me. My own flesh and blood. My little sister.
Pain constricts my heart at that thought. Not only did she hurt me, but
she hurt Bo.
He died.
Because of me.
God, she’s so fucking crazy.
I blink back tears, recalling the panicked look in Dillon’s eyes. We’ve
been on countless cases together—horrific murder scenes, brutal rapes, fatal
car accidents—but not once have I ever seen the desperate, broken look in
his eyes.
My poor Dillon.
“Dillon,” I call out again.
“Is that the officer who brought you in?” she questions, her brows
furrowing together.
Thank God he’s okay.
“Yes,” I croak. “Where is he?”
She walks over to me and gives me a reassuring smile. “I believe he’s
having some treatment for abrasions on his feet.”
“Did he bring anyone else in?” I ask as I attempt to sit up. Sharp pain
slices down one side of my body, forcing me to remain lying down.
“No, just you. He was very worried about you. The wound you
sustained gave him quite the scare. Do you remember what happened?”
Shifting on the bed despite my muscles painfully protesting, I gently
press a hand to the place where Macy stabbed me. “I was stabbed.”
“You were brought in with a stab wound, which we cleaned, assessed,
packed, and dressed. With wounds like these, they’re susceptible to
infection, so we prefer to pack the wound and let it heal from the inside
out.”
“Can you tell Dillon I need him?” I plead, not at all interested in my
injury at this moment.
“You also had other injuries,” she says, stepping closer to me and
clasping my hand closest to her. Flinching from the intrusion of my
personal space, I pull my hand free and her face pales.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters, holding her hands up and stepping back. “We
have a counselor coming down to speak with you.”
I groan. “No, I don’t need one. Dillon. Please, take me to him.”
 “I’m going to get someone to find out where he is,” she assures me
before hurrying out of my room.
Chaos rattles in my mind.
Where are Benny and Macy?
Is Bo really dead?
Did Dillon manage to take Benny down?
How did Dillon find me?
Are we going to make it through this?
Patting my chest, I realize I’m in a hospital gown and the dress I was
wearing is nowhere in sight.
I pull the wires from my hand and the tube, which I now know is
oxygen, from my face. With a grunt of pain, I tear back the blankets and
tentatively get to my feet. Everything hurts, but it’s more of a dull ache
ebbing behind pain medication they must have given me. My legs are
decorated in bruises and scrapes. Two swollen feet that don’t feel like my
own wobble as I try to steady myself on them. When I pull the door open,
the guard outside moves to block my exit. His eyes widen and two giant
hands raise up, palms facing me. “Ma’am, you shouldn’t be out of bed.”
Ma’am. Why do people think they can control me and tell me what I
should and shouldn’t do?
“Detective Phillips. Not ma’am,” I correct him in the harshest voice I
can muster. “You need to move out of my way.”
His face contorts into a look of confusion as he searches the corridor, no
doubt hunting for a doctor to back him up and get me to return to bed like a
good little damsel.
Holding the wound on my hip, I maneuver around him. Ignoring the
whispered, “Fuck,” as he follows me. I push through a set of doors and a
reception type desk is stationed directly in front of me. A flurry of doctors
and nurses are all milling about, checking files, and gossiping.
“Oh no,” an old nurse with gray hair swept up into a neat bun chides.
“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t be out of bed.” Two other nurses walk toward
me, glaring at the poor security guy who’s probably going to get an ass
chewing.
“The dress I was wearing when I came in,” I grumble. “There was a
photo inside. Where is it?”
The old nurse frowns and it ages her ten years. “Your clothes have been
bagged as evidence. If there was a photo, it will be with your belongings, so
don’t worry.”
A rush of air leaves me and the tension in my shoulders eases.
“The man who brought me in…” I grimace as a wave of dizziness
washes over me, “can you take me to him?” I stumble over to a row of
chairs and lower myself into one before my legs give out. My mind is
telling my body to do things it’s not up to. Hunger pains claw at my
stomach and sickness roils inside because of it. There’s fruit sitting in a
bowl on the counter where everyone is standing. When I lift to stand again,
both nurses rush to take one of my arms on either side of me and help guide
where my feet carry me. We reach their station, and I greedily snatch an
apple from the bowl and sink my teeth into it. A sigh escapes me when the
juice sprays into my mouth, watering the cotton tongue I have going on.
“I’m starving,” I announce as I chew. A round of chuckles light up the
otherwise tense atmosphere.
“We can get you something to eat and drink,” the old nurse assures me.
“Just come back to your room.”
“They’re here,” someone announces, and heads lift to look down the
corridor. My heart stampedes in my chest as I turn to trace their gaze.
“Holy shit, Phillips. You look like hell,” Marcus booms, shaking his
head and grinning broadly at me. His arms splay wide, but he doesn’t scoop
me into them. Instead, he roams his regard over my delicate body and
settles for dropping them to my shoulders and squeezing. “You gave us
quite the fucking scare. We’ve been looking for you, woman.”
“And Dillon?”
He frowns at me, concern painting his features. “He got himself worked
up. They had to knock him out for a bit. He hasn’t slept since the day you
were taken.” Chief Stanton smiles from beside Marcus.
“I warrant the chief coming down?” I ask with a forced half-smile that
feels awkward on my face.
“Damn fucking straight you do, kid.” He steps forward, staring at me in
awe. “How did you get away? What the hell happened?”
“It’s a long story.” And one I don’t feel like discussing right now.
“Well, what about the man who took you? This Benny…is he…?”
My shoulders lift with a shrug. “Macy stabbed me and I blacked out. I
don’t know.”
Please let Benny be dead.
 “We need to get her back to her room.” A man in a white jacket
interrupts, coming to stand beside me with a wheelchair. I’m ushered to sit
and then wheeled back to my room with Marcus, Stanton, and nearly the
entire precinct following.
So much for thinking people didn’t like me.
As I’m veered into the hospital room I escaped from, the doctor tells
everyone else to wait outside. There’s a familiar looking lady in the room
wearing a shorter jacket like the doctor handling the navigation of my
wheelchair. She’s the same woman they brought to see me the first time I
escaped Benny.
She’s a rape counselor.
I don’t want to see her or talk about what Benny did to me. I need to
give that trauma a raincheck. If I let myself revisit what he did, my demons
will morph with his and I’ll become trapped back in that cell. I need to
forget, if only for a little while, until I know whether he’s dead or alive.
“Hello, Jade, do you remember me?” she asks.
I stifle a groan and attempt to keep my voice level. “Yes. And I know
why you’re here, but I can’t talk about that right now.”
Ignoring my request, she continues. “When you were brought in, it was
apparent with the bruising on your thighs and some recent tears around your
anus that you had been the victim of a sex crime.”
“Rape,” I growl. “I was raped. Don’t sugarcoat things for my sake, Doc.
I lived through the act.”
“We need to do an internal examination,” she states bluntly, dismissing
my anger.
A commotion outside my door draws all our attention, and then he
bursts through.
Dillon.

OceanofPDF.com
Dillon
MY NAME WHISPERS FROM HER lips like a plea. Nothing was keeping me from
her. Not the fucking drugs they pumped into my vein to calm me down. Not
the entire precinct in the corridor outside her room.
Absolutely nothing.
Three steps are all it takes before I fall to my knees in front of her
wheelchair and gather her slight frame in my arms. The soft planes of her
body mold with mine and I can finally breathe. She weighs nothing as I
carry her over to the bed. Once I situate her, I hug her again. I’ve missed her
so goddamn much.
“I have the picture,” I whisper into her hair. Her body tenses a fraction
of a second before softening once more. “We’ll have to follow protocol, but
keep this little detail to ourselves for now.”
“Bo?” she asks, pulling her warm body slightly away from me to meet
my gaze. There are no tears in her eyes. It’s almost eerie. I can’t determine
whether she’s high on pain medication or she’s switched off her emotions to
cope with everything.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I murmur. “He’s gone.”
“Macy?”
Damn, I don’t have that fucking answer for her. Is it wrong that I wish
she were fucking dead because she’s gone bat shit crazy and her being alive
is a risk to Jade’s life?
“Benny shot her to save you,” I explain. “Don’t know whether it was
fatal or not.”
Her brows furrow together. “And Benny?”
“He let me take you.” I gulp down the anger of not having put a bullet
in his skull. She’s pale and there’s no reaction to what I’m telling her.
 “So, he’s still out there?” Her body falls against the bed behind her.
I clench my jaw in frustration and level my gaze at her. “He won’t get
near you again.”
“That’s what you said last time,” she mutters, and it cuts into me like a
knife. I deserve her anger.
“I’m sorry.” Because I so fucking am.
She curls a shaking arm around her stomach. Her chest rises and falls
with heavy pants. The doctor strides over to aid her in her despair.
I need to kill Benny. Jade will never have peace until I do.
“I’m so tired,” she chokes out, a sob clinging in her throat. Seeing her
so fragile is unnerving. All I want to do is cocoon her in my arms and keep
her there until she’s my Jade again. Erase all she’s witnessed and suffered. I
was too late saving her.
She pulls the covers up to her chin. “I’d like to rest now.”
“No one comes in here,” I bark at the doctor. “No one. Not even the
officers outside.”
He gives me a reassuring nod as I step outside the room. I close the door
behind me and all eyes land on me.
“What the fuck happened?” Marcus and Stanton demand in unison.
I drag my fingers through my hair and shake my head. “He came to my
fucking house. This one has brass balls, but he fucked up. He thought he got
away, but it gave me the opportunity to follow him back to his hell hole.”
“What?” Muscles tense in angry jaws as they all bore their gazes into
me, waiting for my next breath.
“I know where he lives, where he kept her. Get ready.”

Air support reports no life detected on thermal imaging, which means either
God is on our side and Benny decided to kill himself before I could do it for
him or he’s not here.
“Move in,” Hannity, the tactical team leader, speaks into our earpieces.
With guns raised, we creep up onto the property. Even though we’ve been
told there’s nothing being picked up on the night vision, we can’t take a
chance of them being wrong or Benny having a trick up his sleeve. My
heart pounds as we approach where Bo’s body still lies discarded.
“We have a body. To the east of the property about half a mile from the
dirt road,” Wade says.
“Copy that,” Hannity replies. “Wade, stay with the body. The rest
proceed to the property.”
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
It’s pitch black out here, but I can’t wear the infrared gear that makes
seeing a whole lot easier. Those goggles are distracting as hell and I want a
good aim if the fucker pops out on me. Arms are waved to signal they’re at
the front door and the back is secured.
Boom!
The door is rammed open and we flood in, three to a room. My
adrenaline spikes causing a rush in my blood.
“Remember everything is evidence, so try not to contaminate anything
without cause,” Hannity orders.
A chorus of “clears” radio through.
With some hand gestures, Hannity signals for several of us to follow
him up a set of stairs into the attic.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
My eyes soak in every corner of the space we enter. It’s an attic with
what looks like two cells built inside.
Jade and Macy’s cells.
Disgust ripples through me.
“Clear,” someone ahead of me says. “There’s no one here.”
“We have some fresh blood over here,” Marcus hollers.
“Blood here too, sir,” another officer says.
My eyes track to a blood pool on the floor next to a chair with rope
hanging from it.
“Okay,” I bark out. “I need everyone to back out of the house without
touching anything. We need to get forensics in here.”
Everything about this place sends a shudder through my body. Broken
dolls litter the floor, crunching under my feet as I make my way to the first
cell. It’s a wooden box with metal bars as a window.
So he can watch her.
“Scott, you shouldn’t have to be here, man,” Marcus warns me.
He’s wrong. I do need to be here so I can better understand what
happened to her. Her unique scent lingers in the cell, which causes my
stomach to recoil. The mattress is stained with blood.
Motherfucker.
“Detective, I’m going to need to get in there and photograph it. Would
be better if things are left as you found them,” someone says behind me.
I hadn’t realized I’d moved to the bed and sat upon it, my fingers
clutching at a discarded blanket.
Knowing the drill, I nod my head and step out, pointing to the shards of
porcelain. “Make sure all doll hair is bagged.”
An officer chimes in from the next cell. “I have clothes over here.
Female. Differing sizes.”
“Scott,” Marcus bellows, holding a cell phone in the air. “They found
the van with the plates you remembered. Abandoned about four miles from
here. Fresh blood in the front seat, but empty.”
Fuck.

Food and a week of sleep is what I’m going to reward myself with when we
finally catch this bastard. The precinct is buzzing with activity compared to
a usual quiet that would be present around here at this time of night.
I’m heading straight for the task room set up for this case when a
woman appears in my path.
“Can you help me?” she asks, her face pinched together in a worried
fashion.
Dropping my gaze to glimpse at her, I realize she’s more a kid than a
woman. “Roberts,” I call out to a rookie hovering around the water cooler,
and he almost drops his cup.
“Sir?” he utters as he fumbles at wiping down the wet spot on his shirt.
“Help this girl,” I tell him in a gruff tone. “Please.”
 She eyes me with terror in her eyes. Then her gaze flits from the
nervous rookie to Stanton, who is approaching. With a quick shake of her
head and lowered eyes, she slinks away. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”
I frown at her in confusion, wondering if I’ve helped her in the past.
Before I can ask her anything else, she exits the building.
“Detective Scott. Task room. We don’t have all damn day,” Stanton
grumbles, jolting me from my thoughts.
I grit my teeth to prevent myself from saying something that will get me
kicked off the task force again. Tension is thick. He knows I’ll snap at any
moment if he tries that shit again.
I follow him inside, ignoring the images of Jade pinned up with faces of
missing women. Beside her picture is the older altered image created years
ago of none other than Benny.
“The house?” I question, getting right to the point as I saunter in.
Marcus is the first to respond. “It’s not registered with the county land
records. No planning permission was ever filed for its construction. Nothing
filed with the city as far as utilities go. We don’t know how long it’s been
there, but we have a surveyor who’ll determine that tomorrow.”
“What about the land?” I question. “Who owns it?”
“It’s privately owned by Bruce Rogers who lives out of state and owns a
multitude of land and property. We’ve made contact and apparently his
fortune was an inheritance. The land was leased, but there’s no paperwork
to support that.” Marcus tosses me a file. “We have him coming in for
questioning and to bring any paperwork for that land. But he did get his
lawyer to fax over that the land has no property built on it. So whoever
leased the land built the house without permission.”
I thumb through the file quickly, but it only summarizes everything he’s
told me. “The graves?”
His voice is gruff. “Thirteen bodies have been recovered so far from the
front of the property.”
My God. How long has he been at this?
“Burying his victims isn’t his MO,” Judith, our in-house criminal
profiler states. She’d once worked for the FBI but stayed local once she had
a family. While she’s technically a detective, she specializes in profiling. “I
believe the recovered remains will confirm my theory that he didn’t kill
some or maybe all of the victims buried on the property. Bodies that have
been linked to our perp are all displayed in a dramatic fashion for his
enjoyment. He likes the thrill of the show. We’re the audience. Burying
them seems like someone altogether different.”
I grit my teeth as I listen. The graves didn’t seem like him anyway.
What disturbs me is that someone put those bodies there. This shit was
taught to sick fucking Benny. Barely contained rage ripples just below the
surface, but I keep it lidded. The last thing I need is an explosion before I
have a chance to pull all the pieces together—pieces I know fit but need
more proof.
It’s been thirty-six hours since Benny has been on the loose and we
raided his house. It will take weeks to fully dissect that place apart inch by
inch. And God knows how many bodies we’ll find by then.
While Judith and Marcus drone on about their findings, my mind flits to
her.
Jade.
I need to get back to her. She refused the examination and became
inconsolable, so they gave her something to sleep. When I last checked in
on her, she looked so peaceful. Having Jefferson stand guard outside her
room will piss her off when she finally wakes, though. But tough for her. I
can’t be away from her without knowing I have someone there who would
call me if anyone tried to enter her room, including any law enforcement.
Lieutenant Wallis also ordered several officers to stakeout the hospital on
watch for Benny.
I don’t think he will try anything, though. In his own sick, twisted way,
he thinks he loves Jade and wouldn’t risk her health despite the fact that he
had no qualms inflicting pain on her. That much was clear in the panicked
way he reacted when she’d been stabbed.
There’s no doubt he’s out there licking his wounds.
Somewhere.
And we’re going to find him.

OceanofPDF.com
Jade
IT’S BEEN THREE DAYS I’VE been stuck in this hospital. My mind has spent
nearly every waking minute unlocking clues. I don’t want certain parts to
make sense, but they do. Total disgusting sense. I’m almost afraid to tell
anyone because after my recent ordeal with Benny, I’m not in a very
trusting mood.
But Dillon?
My heart aches. He’s been so dutiful at my side. Having his strong arms
wrapped around me filled some new holes inside my soul Benny had
managed to gouge out with his psychotic abuse. Dillon is the only one I can
trust. The only person who has, and still manages to, find a way to burrow
deep in my hardened heart.
I’d been unfair that first day at the hospital. When I accused him of not
keeping me safe. I felt the way his heart seemed to plummet to the floor.
His intake of breath, sharp in my ears. Seeing the way his teeth ground
together in frustration. He’s been mostly out working the case ever since.
Each night, he stumbles into my room and crashes on the sofa for a few
short hours. Always gone before I wake, but his presence lingers—his
promise pungent in the air, swarming me in a protective bubble. Benny will
never take me again. He won’t allow it. My emotions are so chaotic,
they’ve caused a divide between us, and it only hurts worse. I know, deep
down, he’s not to blame here. The only person I can blame is Benny. That
fucker is out there and as soon as I am capable, I’m going to end him. We’re
going to end him. Together.
I’m just sitting up when the door creaks open. Out of instinct, my body
becomes rigid as I jerk my head to make sure it isn’t Benny or any other
threat. I’ll probably always look over my shoulder—at least until he’s dead
or rotting in a cell of his own.
When pained brown eyes meet mine, I relax. Dillon strolls in wearing a
grim expression. In his grip is a white bag with grease stains. I fight a smile.
So Dillon. The boy lives off donuts and coffee. And at one time…sex. A
shudder wracks through me at the mere thought of sex. With Dillon, we’d
really found something beautiful and good between us. It was all ruined in a
blink of an eye when Benny stole it all away from me. Now, the very idea
of sex has me clenching my thighs together to protect myself. Not that
Dillon would ever hurt me…I just don’t want to think about the act at all
right now. Because Dillon will crumble my foundations and Benny will
creep back into the cracks, swallow my thoughts, poison my heart, and steal
my spirit.
I’m not sure I’ll ever want to.
“I brought you your favorite,” he tells me as he sets the bag on the table
beside my bed. “Lemon-filled powdered sugar.”
I make a sour face at him and he chuckles.
“I’m kidding. I got you a couple glazed ones.” He winks at me and the
simple gesture thaws my heart a few degrees.
The donuts seem more appetizing than the crap they’ve been feeding
me the past few days, so I tear into them right away. He watches me intently
the entire time. The tension in the room is thick. Neither of us speak.
Finally, after I’ve finished, he gives me a weary look.
“I’m sorry.”
Emotion bubbles in my throat and I shake my head. “Don’t be. I’m the
one who needs to apologize. That was unfair of me, Dillon.”
He stands at the foot of my bed, his muscled arms crossed over his
chest. His nearly black hair sticks up in several different directions, dark
circles ring his bloodshot eyes, and I don’t think he’s shaved in days.
Dillon looks how I feel.
Tired.
So over this.
Desperate to kill Benny and end the nightmare once and for all.
I remember a while back him claiming we’d get through this. Together.
It was the memory of him that had gotten me through the worst times with
Benny. And now that he’s here, standing so powerfully near me, even in his
exhausted state, I feel like maybe he can get me through this time too.
 “Jade,” he starts, his eyes darting up to mine. His nostrils flare, as if he’s
barely holding back the words he wants to say. When his Adam’s apple
bobs in his throat as he seems to visibly choke on his emotion, the heat of
my own tears burn in my eyes.
Sniffling, I hold out a shaky hand to him. As if someone knocked down
the barrier keeping us apart, he jolts into action and rounds the bed to take
it. His warmth is a zap straight to my heart, scorching away bad memories
in its path. With my frail hand in his strong one, I feel whole again. Safe
and protected. Loved.
He sits on the side of my bed and holds my palm to his chest. His pulse
dances against the soft tissue there, so faint, yet so strong, thundering
beneath my touch. The rhythm matches the way my own heart beats
whenever he is within reach. Our souls reinforce the strength in each other.
“Do you feel this?” he questions, his dark gaze boring into me.
I nod and blink away the tears threatening to spill.
“It’s yours, beautiful. And when you were gone, you took it with you.
We’re fused by this connection, Jade, and no matter where you are or how
far we are from each other, I’m always inside you. Not him,” he murmurs.
He drags my palm to his mouth where he places a hot kiss on my skin. “I
was left with nothing but the absolute overwhelming need to get that beat
back. But only if you came with it. My heart is worthless without you, Jade.
You’re the one who makes it beat like that. You. My soul is tethered to
yours. Thinking about you. Wanting you.” He closes his eyes and lets out a
heavy sigh. “Loving you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you. It kills
me to know what you went through. The rage consumes me.” His eyes
reopen and his gaze is softer. “But with you, here in my grip, nothing in the
world matters. Nothing but the fact that you’re alive and safe again. I’ll do
whatever it takes to make sure he never hurts you again. That you remain
safe and in my arms. No matter how long it takes for you to trust that—to
trust me again.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until he leans over to grab a tissue from the
bedside table. With tender touches, he dabs at my cheeks. When he finishes,
he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead.
A choked moan creeps out of my throat as the world around me blurs.
The emotions and heartache from the past several days cloud around me
like a toxic fog, killing me slowly in the process. Flashes of the horrors I
experienced continue to run through my head, but I can’t block them out.
They simply consume me.
I’m trembling with loud sobs when his warmth cloaks me. He climbs
into the bed beside me on my uninjured side and pulls me into his embrace.
His own body quakes and I know my beautiful, strong, fearless Dillon is
crying too.
How did we come to this?
Our precinct’s two toughest detectives overcome with emotion in a
hospital bed. Broken. Abused. Torn to shreds. Fragments of who we once
were. But being held against his side with such desperation, I can’t help but
feel we’ll be okay as long as we have each other. Dillon came for me. He
hunted and pursued and somehow found Benny’s house against all odds.
After not having any clues to go on for eight long years, it was Dillon who
finally found a way to get to Benny. And while he couldn’t stop him
indefinitely, he was able to pluck me from that nightmare.
Reconstructing our pieces until we’re able to breathe.
Love.
Live.
Sometimes a tough girl who is used to saving herself needs a hero.
And maybe a hero needs a girl to save him too.
We can do this.
Dillon and I will survive this.
Together.
“Dillon,” I choke out, my words nothing but a rasp. “I love you too.”
He strokes my hair and kisses my temple. “I know, baby. I always
knew.”

Dillon and I don’t speak for a long time. He simply holds me until I’ve
cried out all my tears. I know he’s desperate for answers, wanting to know
what Benny did, but he’s read my file from before. Same dance, different
day. Benny picked up right where he left off, taking what isn’t his to take
and abusing it until they lose a piece of themselves. Except this time, I had
to watch my sister murder my ex-fiancé and then turn the knife on me.
A shudder ripples through me.
“Are you cold?” he questions, his voice husky and dry.
I shake my head. “I’m okay.”
Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves the picture, and my heart
constricts again upon seeing it. “Are we going to discuss this?”
I swallow and turn my head up to look into his eyes. “I snagged it on
my way out of Benny’s. This is huge, Dillon. How do we navigate this in a
way that doesn’t explode right in front of our faces?”
He stares at it for a moment longer before shoving it back safely into his
pocket. “We use this hidden knowledge to our advantage. It gives us more
leads to explore.”
“We need to start right away,” I tell him as I sit up. “I need out of this
hospital so we can hunt his ass down. I know you’re going to want to hole
me up somewhere in hiding, but—”
He pinches my lips together so I’ll stop talking, his eyes twinkling with
mischief. A look I missed so badly. “You’re not getting left anywhere ever
again as far as I’m concerned. The whole department can laugh at my ass. I
don’t give a damn. I’m carting you everywhere with me. When I said we’d
nail him together, I meant it.”
His fingers slide away and I can’t help but smile at him. “I missed your
bossy butt.”
“I missed that sassy mouth,” he says with a chuckle.
Our eyes lock together once again, and with each passing second, I feel
our bond strengthening. Benny abused my body. He tried to scar my soul.
But my heart was never his to fuck with. Dillon owns it now.

“Where are we going?” I ask, not recognizing the roads.

Dillon cuts his gaze over to mine from the driver’s side. “Some place
safe.”
 When he returns his eyes to the road, I frown. I half-expected to go back
to my apartment. A sickness had been festering inside me at the mere
thought of lying in my bed—the same bed my sister had been in with me as
she clutched our daddy’s eyeballs. Bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it
down. The old Jade may have argued his tactic, but this new woman has
been broken down one too many times to try to pretend she’s brave.
I am not brave.
Pissed as hell at Benny? Absolutely.
Devastated over Macy’s actions? Without a doubt.
Crushed over Bo’s death? Most certainly.
But fear still pulses through me like voltage from an electric fence. It’s
powerful and relentless. There’s no way to turn it off. If I examine it too
closely, I’ll get struck down.
“Are we going to your house?”
He shakes his head. “No, he knows where I live. I’m taking you to a
friend of mine from high school. Brent and I go way back. I went off to the
academy. He joined the Marines. Brent’s retired from the military and
rebuilds farm equipment. His house is off the beaten path and protected.
The guy is a conspiracy theorist. Security cameras everywhere. Enough
weapons to fight the third world war all by himself. He’ll keep you safe.”
“Did you tell him about me?” My words are a whisper. I hate how weak
I sound.
Dillon shakes his head. “I just told him I needed to keep someone safe
for a little while. Brent doesn’t ask questions. Just trusts that I wouldn’t ask
without good reason. This is necessary.”
After a few more miles, he turns onto a dirt road. We follow it down to
a cute farmhouse with a green tin roof. One of those machines that pulls oil
from the earth is situated out front, rust peeling away the metal. An old red
pickup truck is backed up to a barn beside it. Once we park, Dillon rushes
out to help me out of the car. I’d like to wave him away and prove I’ve got
this, but the truth is, the medication makes me woozy and I’ve come to
enjoy his strength when it surrounds me.
I let my handsome hero help me out of the car.
“Yo, shithead,” Dillon hollers, and the loud bellow causes me to flinch,
but thankfully he doesn’t see. “We’re here, man.”
A man covered in grease from head to toe saunters out of the barn. A
thick, gnarly black beard shields most of his face. When his eyes meet
mine, they’re the bluest I’ve ever seen. Despite his rough exterior, he seems
to be a gentle giant. The two men do one of those manly hugs and chuckle.
It warms me to see their friendship, but with that thought, realization
washes over me.
I don’t have friends.
Not like that.
Not someone I can call up and ask huge favors of.
My only true friend is Dillon.
Heat floods my cheeks. Benny stole the most basic things from me. One
of those things being the ability to have friends. During our formative years,
when Macy and I could have been making normal friends, Benny had us
caged like animals. He abused us in any way he could imagine. Because of
him, he stunted me socially. Will I ever have friends?
“This is my girlfriend, Jade Phillips,” Dillon says, a hint of pride in his
voice. My irritated thoughts melt away to giddy ones. I look like death
warmed over, yet Dillon beams at me as if I’m the prettiest thing he’s ever
seen. And he called me his girlfriend.
That is what I am, right?
We’re an official couple now?
“Brent Calhoun,” the burly man greets. “You’re a tiny little thing. Like
the runt my basset hound gave birth to a couple months ago. Little and
battered, but with a fire in her eyes.”
I shoot Dillon a nervous glance, but he simply smiles at him. The trust
in this man ripples from him. And because I trust Dillon, I trust this Brent
character by default.
“Anyone ever told you you look like a big ‘ol bear?” I question with an
arched brow.
He chuckles. “Only my wife, Cassy. You two will get along just great.”
Dillon steps beside me and offers me his arm. I clutch onto it so I don’t
pass out. According to my doctor, I’m to take it easy until the stitches come
out.
When we step onto the porch, a tall, extremely curvy and big-breasted
black woman opens the door. Her eyes are the color of honey and her smile
is bright like the sun. The rock on her finger catches my eye, reminding me
of the one Bo bought for me. I’ll have to give it to his mother one day when
this chaos blows over. Perhaps even at the funeral which is set for a few
days from now.
 “I’m Cassy Calhoun,” the woman greets. “And who are you, precious?”
I smile weakly at her. “Jade Phillips. Thanks for taking me in.”
She waves me away, as if what I said was nonsense. “Don’t be silly. A
friend of Dillweed over there is a friend of mine. Come on in and let me get
you settled. You look like you may fall out at any moment. I’m going to
whip you up something delicious. Put a little meat on those bones.”
Their genuine warmth thaws my cold, broken heart. “I’d like that.” And
I truly would.

Dillon emerges from the bathroom of the guest room we’re staying in
wearing nothing but a towel. Water droplets run down his sculpted chest
and I can’t help but crack a smile. I missed his perfect physique. His
imperfect smile.
“You need anything? You look hungry,” he muses, a chuckle escaping
him.
I shake my head. “I’m still full from Cassy’s feast. She seriously didn’t
have to cook all that food for me.”
He throws on a pair of jeans, but not before I get a nice view of his ass,
and then lies down beside me on the bed. “Have you seen Brent? She has to
cook like that every night to feed that beast.”
I grab his hand and meet his gaze. “Thank you for all of this. You didn’t
have to.”
His brows furl together. “Keeping you safe is all that matters to me.”
My smile is immediate, but then I recall him speaking to someone in
hushed tones after dinner in the kitchen. “Who was on the phone earlier?”
He kisses the back of my hand. “Marcus. He finally got word back from
the attorney about the land lease.”
“Yeah?”
“Our suspicions were confirmed.”
Dread trickles through me. In the back of my mind, I held onto the
sliver of doubt that I was somehow mistaking the man in the picture. It
wasn’t someone I respected and trusted.
 “Lieutenant Wallis is all over Marcus demanding updates on the case.
Thank God Marcus is a good cop. He knows what is at stake here and how
far the roots of this discovery could potentially go. The feds are now
involved on the sly. One of their people is working alongside with Marcus
on these new details. Currently, we’re the only four who know about the
land lease and the picture.”
If Wallis sniffs out that we’re withholding information, he’ll have no
qualms about tearing apart the entire police department until he has
answers. That simply cannot happen.
“He’s got eyes on Wallis, making sure he doesn’t know too much,” he
assures me.
“What about…”
“Doesn’t have a clue, but I’m sure he’s sweating it. I was watching him
for any noticeable reactions. I’ve known him long enough to recognize
when he’s uncomfortable. The man has some explaining to do. Just not until
we have more to go on. This could all get shut down before we even have a
chance to get started. Talk about a clusterfuck.” He runs his fingers through
his hair, and grumbles, “Another reason why you aren’t leaving my sight.
We can’t trust anyone besides Marcus at this point. I’m not sure where the
loyalties in the department go, but I’m not going to take any chances.”
The pain meds I took earlier cause my eyes to droop despite the
thousands of thoughts racing through my mind. I must doze off because I
wake when Dillon’s strong arms tuck me into his side. My arm drapes
across his hot chest in the dark, and for the first time in what seems like
forever, I fall asleep without fear.
I’m safe.
And I sleep without worry.
It also doesn’t hurt the fact that when I run my hand down his toned
stomach there’s a thick hunk of metal shoved into his pants.
If Dillon can’t keep me safe, his Glock sure as hell will.

OceanofPDF.com
Benny
SITTING IN FRONT OF AN old abandoned house several miles outside the city, I
ignore Macy’s groans from the back of the car. Rage torments my thoughts,
giving me no reprieve. I could choke her to death with my bare hands,
enjoy the pulse as it fades beneath my fingertips, and watch as her skin
pales and lips turn blue. She deserves it for what she’s done.
Instead of hurting her though, I took her inside and pulled the fucking
bullet from her. My anger and sorrow mixed in a tornado of despair at
having to let that fucking cocksucker take my dirty doll. After waiting so
long to get her back, she was once more lost to me, and on top of that, now
so is our home.
Getting the call that a car had been left for me, I picked up my broken
dolly and drove her to a truck stop where I patched up the bleeding and
applied new bandages in the bathroom. The bullet went through her
shoulder—superficial. I thought she was dead with the way she went down
like a rag doll. Always had a flare for the dramatics, this one.
I should have let her die. Bringing her with me when I have no clue
what my next move will be is risky. She’s unpredictable.
My gaze darts to the rearview mirror and I find her squirming in her
seat. She’s in pain, but doesn’t deserve any medication. The pain is her
punishment and she should be fucking grateful. Everything is ruined
because of her.
Dammit, I should have put the bullet in her heart instead. She’s a
liability. The thought troubles me, but letting her die would have been a
double loss. She’s been a part of my life for so long. If I were to lose my
broken doll, after already losing my dirty doll, what purpose would I have?
I’m not sure how I could’ve managed losing them both.
 Getting her back isn’t an option right now, though. Not when my broken
doll is so weak and my house compromised. But my heart still aches for my
dirty lost doll.
Why couldn’t she just let herself love me?
“She ran into the knife.” Macy’s words have been on repeat ever since I
put her in the vehicle hours ago. “My injury is worse than hers. She tried to
run away. We were both bad.”
Getting the call telling me I needed to run came with mixed annoyance
and elation because with that call came the information that my dirty little
doll was okay. She was alive.
Driving with no direction or plan is unsettling, which is why I haven’t
been eager to leave this town. I’ve never lived anywhere but the house that
has now been discovered all because my fucking male pride needed to see
this Dillon in the flesh to determine whether that stupid dead doll was lying
about him and her. I created a sexual craving inside her and wasn’t around
to fulfill it, so she settled with Bo, and then found a better match in Dillon
“Soon To Die” Scott.
My insides hum with undiluted rage.
“Benjamin,” my bad doll whines from the back.
“Shut up before I punish you so badly you won’t be able to walk,” I
snap.
Fire flashes in her eyes in the reflection. “How will you punish me?
Will you spank me again?”
Ignoring her, I close my eyes and think about my pretty doll. How
beautiful she was in the white dress meant for a special occasion. I’d
wanted to push her to the ground and fuck her with it shoved up her hips.
Instead, my broken doll ruined it all.
She should be punished. She will never learn if she’s not punished.
“Benjamin,” she sings in the back, taunting me on purpose.
I’m already jerking open the door before I can stop myself from
punishing my wounded doll. By the time I sling the car door open, she’s
waiting for me. The dress she’s wearing is ratty and torn, hanging off the
shoulder I had to patch up, baring her peaked nipple. My hand itches to slap
her tit until it’s black and blue.
“I was so bad,” she reminds me, spreading her legs open.
This dolly disgusts me and refraining from obliterating the broken, ugly
doll has been a test for me. All my instincts tell me she’s ruined and should
be destroyed, but she kept me close to dirty doll.
“Come here,” I snarl, grabbing her by the wrist. I yank her outside the
car and she doesn’t resist as I drag her toward the old house with broken
windows. I shove through the door and we both cough from the dust. It’s
pitch black and there’s a scent of mold hanging in the condensed air.
Her other hand slides up my arm and she whispers, “I’m your pretty
little doll.” A cackle leaves her lips, haunting the house we’re inside. “But I
can be your dirty doll too. I can be whatever you want, Benjamin.”
“Shut up!” I roar, and shove her to the floor, pounding my fists to my
head. Thinking with such jumbled thoughts is impossible. Plan. I need a
plan. The misery of not having my dirty little doll is already consuming me.
All I have inside me is love for her and rage for everything else. If I can’t
fulfill one, then I’ll indulge the other.
I kick the broken mess on the floor and she lets out a yelp that reminds
me of her sister. When she’s not cackling like a fucking mental patient, she
has the same tone to her voice as her sister—sweet and whimsical. It makes
my dick hard. I become blind with rage and desire as I prowl after her
crawling form. When I reach her, I stomp on her ass until she flattens on the
floor.
“Dirty doll on the dirty floor,” I hiss as I yank off my belt. Whipping
her until she bleeds is appealing right now. Beat her until she shuts the fuck
up. Punish her until she’s unconscious for ruining it all for me.
She ruined it all.
I hate her.
But then she moans and it sounds too much like my favorite doll. With a
growl, I rip at the buttons on my jeans and pull my stiff cock out. I shove
her filthy dress up her thighs and over her ass. Thank fuck I can’t see well
in the dark house. I don’t want to see what I’m doing.
I just want to do it.
My fist twists in her hair and I jerk her head back with one hand while I
squeeze my throbbing cock with the other. Her ass juts in the air, begging
for me to fuck her. She’s a whore.
It’s all she’s ever wanted, and it disgusts me enough to want to teach her
a lesson for it. Bopping up and down on lifeless man-dolls isn’t fucking.
She wants to be fucked. “Well, fuck you!” I roar into her ear.
Her mewls don’t sound like her at all. “You want to be my dirty little
doll,” I growl, driving into her dripping cunt.
 The scream from her is familiar and it makes me groan with pleasure. I
like her screams. They’re raw, real, mine. I want all of them. Once my dick
is wet, I pull it out completely. She whimpers and wiggles, silently begging
for more. Well, fuck you.
It wouldn’t be punishment if I rewarded her, would it?
I prod at the tight rings of her ass. It’s my only warning before I breach
her there. She wants to be just like her sister? Well, here’s her goddamn
chance. This time, her screams are foreign and terrified. Good. Her stupid
little dolls never took her here. Nobody has ever taken her here.
“Benjamin!” she cries out, her body squirming to get away.
“You deserve this!” I roar, fighting the bile that wants to spill free.
Hating her. Hating me.
I slam all the way into her tight ass with as much force as I can muster,
yanking on her hair until I feel it tear from the root while forcing myself in
and out viciously and mercilessly.
My dick becomes lubricated from her anus as it rips from my thickness
driving brutally into her. Visions of my dirty doll dance in the forefront of
my mind
So beautiful.
So perfect.
So dirty.
Tears.
Tears.
Goddamn beautiful tears from my broken dolly who never cries.
“Cry, cry for me, you bad fucking doll.”
This satisfies me and almost makes up for me losing control. Almost.
With a growl of fury, I release her hair and rip away her bandage. She howls
like a panther caught in a trap when I dig my thumb into the bullet hole in
her shoulder. Making her feel the pain I feel. How it feels to have a gaping
hole in your fucking soul and someone poke at your suffering.
“You did this!” I scream. “You!”
She sobs, but agrees. “I did…”
My nuts seize up and I let out a disgusted groan as my cock softens
inside her battered ass. Coming is impossible when the reality of whom I’m
fucking sinks in with her compliance. “I’m a bad dolly,” she whines.
“Punish me some more, Benjamin.”
I jerk out of her and drop her to the floor.
 I’m stuffing my bloody, unsatisfied dick back in my pants when she
starts her maniacal laughing. It erases the fantasy of her sister and pisses me
right the fuck off.
“I love you, Benjamin,” she rasps.
I hate you.
I hate me.
I hate that she pushed me this far, and in this moment, with her stupid
mouth cackling, I want to hate her fucking sister for leaving me and
bringing us all to this moment.
Slapping the side of my temple, I attempt to drive out the horror of what
I just did.
You’re a pervert, Benny.
My stomach sours and I think I might throw up. What have I done?
“Benjamin and me, sitting in a tree,” she sings, “F-U-C-K-I-N-G!”
Rage infests every molecule inside me and I snatch her up by her throat,
dragging her up to her feet. The moonlight pours in from a hole in the roof
shining into her crazed eyes. All images of her sister evaporate into the dust
particles.
“I’m not a pervert,” I remind her, my entire body quaking with fury.
Killing her and sending her in pieces to my dirty doll would be a fitting
punishment for them both, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
She grins at me and I snarl as I squeeze her throat until she passes the
fuck out. Her broken body crumbles to the floor the moment I release her
and I glare down at her.
“I’m not a pervert,” I hiss.
You are a pervert, Benny. She’s just a little girl. You are sick, sick, sick
like your papa.
My palm doesn’t drive the madness away, so I resort to using my fist.
“I’m not a pervert!”
I.
Am.
Not.
A.
Pervert.
“He touched me.” She shudders.
“What?” Anger coils my muscles, tensing my entire body as I look
down at Bethany sitting on her twin bed. Papa had shown up out of the
blue. Just fucking sitting at our dinner table like he hadn’t been absent from
it in years. “Look at ya.” He’d whistled at Bethany when she walked in
wearing the new dress I’d patiently made for her despite her fidgeting and
me constantly having to smack her leg. “Come sit on your papa’s knee,” he
crooned, and I wanted to curl my hand into a fist and plow it into his smug
face.
I’d grown more since the last time we’d seen each other and easily
towered over his pesky height. He looked fat in the gut area, letting himself
go. Bethany’s eyes grew wide as she scanned Momma and then me. Papa’s
hand slammed down on the fragile wooden table causing drinks to spill and
a chorus of china to sing.
I flinch and blame it on the chill in the air and just being cold. Damn
him and his lasting impression on the little boy hiding beneath the man
body I now have.
“Don’t keep your papa waiting.”
Bethany dragged her feet over to where he sat, looking over at me
before his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her down on top of
him.
Disgusting pervert.
He left shortly after. After asking Momma for a divorce and Momma
throwing her mashed potatoes at him.
“He’s gone now. He won’t be coming back.”
Her head tilts up and her big, green, expressive eyes bore into mine.
“He said he’ll be back next weekend and he wants to take me out in the
police car.” Her body trembles as she speaks. “In the back because I’m
bad.”
A tear drops to her cheek and memories of the time he took me out with
him in his cruiser invade my headspace. Not clear then, but looking back, I
now know he raped that girl in the backseat. How many other girls had
succumbed to his form of policing?
“I don’t want to lose my virginity that way, Benjamin. I know what he
plans.” My breathing increases with my vehemence for that man.
“You won’t,” I assure her with a growl. “I’ll tell him you’re not going.”
“I want you to do it.” She nods her head and grabs for my hands, which
are fisted at my sides.
Pervert.
The words corrupt my urges and itch the skin that feels too tight over
my skin. My head shakes no. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m not a
pervert, Bethany,” I spit out like a whip, and she flinches as it stings her.
“I’m seventeen, Benjamin,” she bites out. “That’s more than old
enough.”
War rages inside me, the urges wanting to take her body after sleeping
and holding her, yet Momma’s words echo through the empty corners of my
mind.
“She’s my pretty little doll. Your sister.”
But she’s not my real sister. And she’s my pretty doll, more than she is
Momma’s.
“Please,” she begs. “Let me have something of my own choosing. You
love me, right?”
Do I?
Yes.
Yes, more than I should.
“Then love me.” She begins pulling me closer, peppering her lips over
my hands before standing up on her tiptoes. “The unspoken words have
always been here, Benjamin. Love me, like I love you.” Pressing her lips to
mine, she coaxes my mouth open and dips her tongue inside. Warmth
invades my thighs, thickening my dick.
“Okay,” I breathe against her.
Pulling back, she smiles, and the smudge of red lipstick on her
porcelain skin ignites the fire in my gut, but causes a twitch in my palm.
Punish her or love her.
“I’ll be back tonight when Momma falls asleep,” I vow.
People irritate me. Even walking past me, if their body comes too close,
their mundane existence touching me, it drives me crazy. I keep my distance
and don’t make eye contact with the two girls giggling to each other while
they keep looking over at me. All I can think about is painting their faces in
the correct manner instead of the appalling attempt they’ve made. One
looks like she has slugs for eyebrows. Does she think that’s beautiful?
“Tell her to go on the pill,” the blonde of the two chirps over at me.
I turn my head in her direction, visions of scrubbing her face and body
until she bleeds and her skin is renewed play like a vivid dream in the aisle.
“Oh God, he’s just staring at you. Maybe he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
The redhead chuckles.
“He’s buying condoms,” the blonde argues.
The redhead shrugs her shoulders. “So?”
“I’m on the pill,” the blonde blurts out, ignoring her friend. “Saves
using those nasty things.” She bites her lip and I’m hoping her teeth pierce
the skin.
They don’t.
She walks toward me and the hair on my neck prickles. She stinks of
cheap perfume and she’s in my space. My body stiffens as she leans up and
whispers, “Come by the Ace Roller Shack sometime.”
Her hair crunches under the weight of the hair spray she used to keep
curls in. The waves of anxiety flood through my body. Urges, strong and
unthinkable, surge through my veins. I want to wash her clean in her own
river of tears and blood.
“Jess, come on,” the redhead complains. “He’s freaking me out.” Her
tone is gentle, but the mocking spirals through it.
Backing away from me, they leave the aisle and all I want to do is get
the hell out of here. There are too many boxes with different shit written on
them for sluts like these. Ribbed for her pleasure. Extra thin. Flavored.
Leaving empty-handed, I debate following those two whores to teach
them both a lesson, but my papa’s car pulling in next to my truck has my
feet moving toward him.
 “Stay away from us,” I bark out before he’s fully exited his car.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Bethany. She’s off limits to your perversion.”
His jaw ticks and the twitch in his eyes flickers. Usually I’d be scared,
knowing I wouldn’t be walking for a week after his punishment, but I’m not
that boy anymore. He won’t control me with fear. I could wring his neck
with half the effort it would take most.
“Your momma just signed the papers. I just came from there.” He grins
at me and there’s a gloat to it. The smile reaches farther up his face, making
the fuller cheeks he now has bulge.
“If you’ve touched her, I’ll kill you,” I warn.
His smile drops and a grubby finger digs into my chest as he attempts to
intimidate me. “Watch who you’re talking to, boy!” he chides before
smacking his lips together. “She’s a little too old for my tastes anyway. Has
a mouth on her, though. She needs harsher punishments.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl. “Stay the hell away.”
Unclipping the holder to his gun, his eyes flash with anger. “I’ll do
what the hell I like. Don’t forget who owns that fucking place. You talk to
me like that again and I’ll come for your pretty little doll. I’ll fuck her until
your mother puts her in the grave with the rest of ‘em.”
He holds up his hand and smiles smugly. “She’s a screamer. Not used to
a backhander, huh?”
Motherfucker.
Without another word to that prick, I bolt to the driver’s side of my
truck, jump in, and floor it the entire way home. The wheels kick up dirt as I
come to a sharp halt on the makeshift drive. I take long strides into the
house, nerves eating away at my gut as I push the door open and hear
sobbing.
Momma.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
My feet move in slow motion up the corridor to Bethany’s room where
Momma is pacing just inside. Memories flash in the back of my mind from
all those years ago when I woke to this exact scene.
“Momma?” My tone is unrecognizable to my own ears.
She startles and bites at her nails.
 Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
My heart stampedes as I get closer and push Momma aside to see
Bethany.
My soul drains out of me. The walls enclose and the ceiling falls upon
me, crushing me. The floor eats me, drowning me in its dark depths.
“He hit her,” she murmurs. “Marked her pretty face, Benny.”
She lays upon the bed, her eyes wide open, staring at me with no light.
“He said mean things to me and hit her before cutting up her face. She’s
broken.”
Blinding white fury licks at my sanity, seething under the skin, setting
my skin on fire.
She took her from me.
She killed Bethany—again.
A storm frenzies within me. Turning, I grab Momma by the throat and
pin her against the wall. Her hands claw at my arms like a feral cat. Wild
eyes widen and her ratty hair bounces with her struggles.
Die.
Fucking die.
Fucking bitch, die.
I hate you.
I hate me.
I hate her for leaving me alone.

A groan from my broken doll brings me back from my memories.

We have the murder of our mothers in common. Everyone leaves me
but my broken doll and I know that’s why I keep her around. She wants to
be with me and she fills the void just enough to numb the ache her sister has
left. Being free is never going to happen. My dirty doll will never give up
the urge to fight me, to run away, so I have to chase and find her, but in
death, we could truly be free, together. She can’t escape me if I kill us both.
 “Hurts. Everything hurts,” my broken doll moans.
It does. Everything fucking hurts and it needs to stop.
It needs to end.
It needs to be final.
“Go to sleep. We’re going to be here for a while…until I figure some
things out.”

OceanofPDF.com
Dillon
THE SPRAY OF THE SHOWER hums through the door and I’m fighting the man
in me who wants to open the barrier and see my girl. To join her. Scaring
her is my fear and it outweighs everything else. Her healing, mentally, as
well as physically, is going to take time and patience. I’ll give her anything
she needs. I just wish I knew what that is. She let me hold her in bed last
night and didn’t startle or shake. Her ass wiggled against my cock and
having to think about anything else was a test to my will power.
Lieutenant Wallis eating a tuna sub and comparing it to an ex he was
still fucking—that was where I took myself to stop my dick from straining
against the place Benny fucking violated.
My poor girl.
I’d dive the deepest sea and travel to the furthest star if it meant
capturing her tormentor.
I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life. Well…maybe to put
a ring on her finger and never let her leave my arms.
The door opens and a mist wall dissipates over my skin before her form
appears. “Oh God,” she flinches, holding her towel so tight her knuckles
whiten. “You scared me. What are you doing?”
Her hair is wet and sticks to her soft skin. Little water bubbles bead
along her chest and I resist the urge to lick them off…just barely. Standing
there mute like a fucking idiot, I shake my head and point to the shower. “I
was just going to…”
“Going to?”
“Shower,” I lie. Better than her thinking I was standing out here like a
fucking stalker.
 “I took the bandage off.” She bites her lip and looks up at me from
under her lashes.
“Okay…” My dick thickens with every second and no matter how many
times I try to imagine Wallis gobbling up that tuna, I still can’t drive her
from my mind.
“It’s scarred,” she almost whispers.
Scarring was bound to happen, and expected after the doctor told us
there would be. She appears almost apologetic about it. My eyes expand
and I have to hold my breath when she opens her towel and bares all her
beauty at me. Her round full tits with peaking rose nipples stand out,
gaining my attention first, and then her pussy, clean shaven and glistening
from the shower water.
Fuck. Is she trying to kill me?
“Dillon,” she scolds in a playful tone.
I drag my eyes up to meet hers and shake my head to clear the naughty
and delicious porn playing out in there of the two of us. “Sorry, what?”
“I’m showing you the scar.”
Oh…right, the scar.
I drop my eyes back over her body, taking my time to devour every
inch. How is it that it’s like looking at her for the first time every damn
time?
Her wound is still raw and raised. There’s redness spouting from it like
a flower. It’s at least three-inches long. That crazed, insane fucking bitch,
Macy, tried to gut her. Lucky for us, she didn’t get the chance. I hate that
she’s still alive out there.
“It’s going to be ugly,” she announces, her expression bouncing back
between excitement and fear.
“Baby, nothing on you could ever be ugly. It’s history written on your
skin. Bad…real fucking bad history,” I tell her in a low grumble. “But
yours, all the same.”
“Does it bother you?” she asks, her brows pulling together.
Was she kidding?
My disgust and pure hatred for that cunt Benny bleeds into my
thoughts, causing my hands to clench and my loathing of not having killed
him to bring on a throb in my head. He really did a number on her.
“You could be covered in scars and nothing would ever make me love
you any less. Or even think of you any less. Certainly not want you any
less.” I lean closer, bending my knees so I can be on her level, looking into
her eyes. “You’re a beautiful woman, Jade. There is no denying that fact.
But it’s in here.” I place my hand over her heart. “And here.” I tap her
forehead. “And that mesmerizing soul of yours that shines through those
eyes. That is what makes you who you are.”
Her smile at my words is fleeting, but at least I got to see it. “Some
days, I wish to go unnoticed,” she admits with a frown. “No attention. No
praise for my beauty. And I had that. It’s…only Benny makes me want to
be as ugly on the outside as he makes me feel on the inside,” she says,
shivering with her declaration.
“Scars don’t make you ugly,” I tell her, my brows furrowing. I lean my
forehead against her still wet one. “What he did to you doesn’t make you
ugly inside, baby. He is the ugly. And he can’t ever take away the true
beauty you possess. That’s all yours.”
I gently rub down her arms where goosebumps pepper her skin. “You’re
not what he wants you to be, Jade. He got it so wrong.”
“What do you mean?” Her lashes bat like butterflies fluttering over a
rose.
“He wants a pretty, boring, generic doll. But you’re different. Not
boring at all. A wild flower growing amongst the pandemonium and
blossoming despite it all.”
Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, she pushes her cheek against my
hand, seeking my comfort.
“You’re too bright to have someone lay out rules for you to follow.
You’re too brave to sit locked away from a world that needs you,” I
continue. Brushing my thumb over her lips, I smile. “You’re full of too
much fire to be doused by a madman like him.”
Her breath hitches and her shimmering eyes meet mine. “Loving you is
what got me out of that cell. In all the uncertainty, you were what steadied
me. My gravity.”
A chuckle leaves me. It’s soft and vulnerable, matching what I’m
feeling inside. All I want is to be her safety, but it also terrifies me that she
sees me as that and I let her down once already. “You rhymed,” I tell her
with a grin. Gently, I tug her against my body. Supple curves press into me.
Her heat and scent fuse together, tattooing themselves on my senses.
“I’m afraid with him being out there,” she admits against my chest.
 I swallow down the growl. I’ll die before I let him touch her again.
“We’re going to get him. I promise.” This time, the vow is one I don’t plan
on breaking.
“Just don’t let him get lost in the tide, sinking and taking me down with
him while making you watch me drown,” she begs, and my heart overdoses
on how much I love her. I want to fucking protect her from all these
feelings consuming her.
“I’ll drown his ass and build us the biggest fucking boat for us to sail off
into the sunset on,” I tell her lightly, hoping to cheer her up. “I refuse to lose
you or let him ever touch you again. If you were a tear in the ocean, I’d still
find you baby. Because you’re mine and I’m yours,” I finish, my voice
lowered with certainty.
A rap on the bedroom door gains our attention.
“Your friend is here,” Cassy calls out. “I’ve put a pot of coffee on.
Come on down when you’re ready.”
With her footfalls fading away, Jade looks up and me. “I’ll get dressed.”

Marcus sits opposite me with a stack of files in front of him and a weary
expression marring his features. Jade sits on my right, but she’s scooted her
chair so she’s almost on top of my lap, her small fingers intertwined with
mine.
I make her feel safe. And I love that fact.
“So?” I ask. I’m already revved up enough without this fucking build
up.
He nods and clears his throat. “We found a marriage certificate so we
have the mother’s name. A body from the house matches DNA for this
woman.” He slides a photo over and my shoulders stiffen. It’s the same
woman in the photograph. Marcus shakes his head in disgust. “They had
two children. Benjamin and Bethany.”
“How old is he?” I ask.
“Thirty-four.”
 A hiss of air leaves me. “So, he was twenty-two when he stole Jade and
Macy.”
“There were dozens of photographs recovered from a post office box at
the property. What were they?” Jade asks, shifting in her seat.
“Pictures of girls and women. Some dressed as dolls.” He scrubs his
hands over his face. “That’s not all.”
“Out with it,” I grunt.
He slides another photograph across the table. A girl looks up at me
from the paper. She’s familiar. It’s the girl who came into the precinct a
couple days ago but left before getting help. “She has filed an official
complaint against him.” The dirty cop who’s been covering for his son this
whole goddamn time.
“What charge?” Jade questions, her voice a slight rattle. She wraps her
arms around her waist, leaving my hand cold.
“She says he arrested her on a disturbing the peace charge and sexually
assaulted her in the back of a squad car.”
Motherfucker.
“That’s the story Benny told me about him too.” Jade shudders,
squeezing herself.
“She’s fourteen,” Marcus adds quietly.
Fury surges through me and I clench my fists. “So, he’s in custody?”
At this, his face blanches. “Actually, he’s gone AWOL.”
Fuck.

OceanofPDF.com
Jade
IT’S BEEN A COUPLE DAYS since Marcus broke the news. He only confirmed
what Dillon and I knew, but it was still difficult hearing it out loud.
Someone I trusted for eight long years lied to my face. He betrayed me.
Had he known the whole time that his son had me locked away? Did he
pretend to help in the search? Did he get off watching me become an officer
right under his nose? Fate could be a fickle bitch, but Karma comes around
to us all. His knife may be lodged firmly in my back and my silence may be
mistaken as weakness. But I’m only beginning my revenge. Until my gun is
at his temple and his guilt is exposed in blood, I will not rest.
Sickness roils in my belly, but I manage to keep it at bay.
“You okay?” Dillon asks from the driver’s side.
I give him a small nod. Bo’s funeral deserves my attention. Benny is off
the radar and we know he can lay dormant for years without surfacing, but
now, he’s unprotected by his father. They’re both running and it won’t be
long before they tire and make a mistake. Getting Benny once and for all is
imperative for Dillon and me. We won’t be able to move on. Rest. Relax
until the man who casts a shadow over my life is cast out and banished
completely. Death is the only solution for someone as demented as him.
“You ready?” Dillon asks, taking my hand and opening the car door,
gently coaxing me from inside.
My heels sink into the grass as we stand there listening to people speak
about Bo. It’s simple and nice, like Bo. I ruined his life—cost him his life.
His mother made sure she spared no expense for her only son. It’s hard
watching her as she breaks apart in front of his casket. I’d attempt to
comfort her, but keeping myself together is taking all my strength, and what
right do I have to offer such comfort? He is rotting in a casket because he
loved me. If it weren’t for Dillon holding me up, I’d probably collapse and
crumble in dust, self-hate combusting me from the inside out. Raw wounds
from what I’ve witnessed, lived through still bore away at me like insects
burrowing so deep, crawling under the skin, penetrating the bone and
polluting the marrow. Do people ever truly get over ordeals of this
magnitude?
A chill lifts fallen leaves and swirls them around my feet. The wind
chases over my skin, carrying the scent of all the flowers displayed for Bo.
He deserved more than I ever gave him. But I can give him justice. Benny
will pay with his life and I’ll make sure Macy is institutionalized. Dillon got
me all the information on a place called Blue Water, an institution for the
criminally insane. He said he has a detective friend—a Blake something
who had to put his own brother away in there. It will be hard, but better
than me taking her life. Knowing Macy is too far gone to bring back is one
thing, but killing her is not something I could ever do, no matter that she
would kill me without even flinching. My mind still remembers the girl
dancing and just wanting a new doll to play with—until he stole us. Her
innocent image fades from thought and the crazy-eyed doll bopping on top
of Bo assaults my mind. We can’t let them hurt anyone else.

I stare up at the house of the man fooling us all for many years, hurt
trickling through my veins. Scanning the space he has been free to occupy
with his kids like he was normal and not a twisted piece of shit is like a
cruel joke. The swing set sits in the front yard. Just like at Benny’s, he
started again, leaving his evil son behind to inflict the darkness he bred in
him on to others.
Bastard.
He just moved on and started again, leaving his creation, his fucked up
deranged first wife to abuse and kill. Anger inside me is so consuming at
times, I wish I could scream it out.
“You sure you want to do this?” I startle as Dillon’s gaze darts to mine.
Somehow, he looks hotter than usual in his black funeral suit with a clean-
shaven face. He’s long overdue for a haircut, but it looks good all styled
into a mess on top of his head.
Younger.
Playful.
I miss his touch.
His lovemaking.
We haven’t had sex yet, but I’m desperate to connect with him. To erase
Benny from my body for good. Each time I think Dillon will make a move,
he hesitates. I’m still too mentally fragile to initiate things between us.
“The only way we’ll get answers is to speak with her. Marcus has been
trying and she’s been avoiding him. If we catch her by surprise, I think we
can get her to talk,” I tell him, my tone confident.
I’ve known Maryann for many years. She’s invited me on several
occasions to have dinner with them, but I always declined. I’m not really
the social type. I don’t think she’s involved in her husband’s doings, but the
only way to be sure is to interview her. We drive away from the house and
make our way to her work.
“What makes you think you’ll get her to see you?” he asks as we park
in front of the clinic.
I flash him a smile. “I made an appointment under a different name. She
won’t know until she walks in.”
His lips quirk up on one side and he winks. “You’re devious.”
I chuckle as we get out of the car, and it feels nice to laugh. Dillon
makes life easier. As soon as he rounds the car, his hand envelops mine. I
like how his warmth seems to chase away the shadows that always linger
around me. With him, I can relax. It’s such a refreshing sensation.
The receptionist doesn’t balk at my lack of insurance once I drop two
hundred dollar bills on the counter and tell her I’ll pay my bill in cash. I
mean, who honestly fakes going to a gynecologist? No one, that’s who. She
takes my money and ten minutes later, I’m in a gown with a very tense
Dillon sitting in a chair in one of the exam rooms.
“I don’t see why you had to undress,” he grumbles. “And furthermore, I
don’t know why you had to let the nurse draw blood and take your urine.
This is stupid.” Yeah, I didn’t expect to let it get that far, but the nurse does
all that before you even get to see the doctor and I didn’t want to raise
suspicion by telling them no.
I give him a reassuring smile. “Everything will be okay. Trust me.”
 His jaw clenches and he looks like he’s about to say something when
the door opens.
“Miss Jones, so happy to meet you. I’m Dr. Holt,” she chirps until she
rounds the table. Her blonde hair has been pulled into a neat bun and her
black-rimmed glasses sit at the bottom of her nose. I always thought she
was too pretty, too calm to be with a man like her husband. It’s not lost on
me that she uses her maiden name for her practice. As soon as her gaze
finds mine, her smile falls. “J-Jade?”
Dillon stands up behind her, his protectiveness nearly suffocating both
of us. His unspoken threat against her is felt with every breath we take.
“You were avoiding Marcus,” I tell her. “And we have questions for
you. Important ones.”
Her face pales as she sits down on the stool and casts Dillon a worried
glance. “Okay, but I don’t know anything. I’m very upset by my husband’s
sudden disappearance.” Her brows pinch together.
“Why aren’t you out there looking for him?” she queries. If she didn’t
know he’s a dirty cop, then her acting is pretty convincing.
“Oh, trust me, we are looking for him,” I tell her, a bite to my tone.
“Did he tell you why he was leaving?” Dillon demands. God, he looks
handsome in his suit. I love the way his power seems to ripple from him.
Maryann tugs at the stethoscope looped around her neck absently. “No.
He didn’t explain anything to me about why he had to leave so urgently.
Not even a note. It was so out of character for him. He didn’t just pack a
bag. He took enough clothes that told me he wasn’t coming back.
Something is wrong.” Tears well in her eyes and she hastily swipes them
away. “I don’t understand why he would just leave us. There has to be more
to it and your colleague wasn’t forthcoming with information, so neither
was I.” She straightens her back.
“Have the girls mentioned that he said anything to them?” Dillon asks,
and my soul quakes. He has two daughters with Maryann. What if he’s been
abusing them like he did Bethany?
“No, nothing. I’m still trying to convince them he’s away on business
and will be home soon.”
Dillon’s posture relaxes and he sits down, resting his elbows on his
knees and leaning toward her. “Did you ever know about his family prior to
when he married you?”
 She swallows and nods. “He told me he had children with his previous
wife, but I’d never met the child still living. His girl died a long time ago.
Measles, I believe it was.”
That lying scumbag.
“We never talked much about them. Apparently, his boy didn’t want
anything to do with him and I never pressed him to further that relationship.
We had the twins not long after we married and have always had our hands
full. What is this about?” she pries.
I tense at the mention of the twins again. “He hasn’t ever…” I trail off,
attempting to keep tears from my eyes. “He’s never touched them, has he?”
“Touched them?” Her brow crashes together.
“Sexually,” I clarify
Horror washes over her features. “God, no! I’d kill him. What exactly
are you getting at? Why would you ask such things? Is there something
going on? He’s one of you, for crying out loud. Not some child molester!”
Her neck turns bright red and her hands tremble with her sudden burst of
emotion.
Dillon lets out a sigh. “Maryann, we’re simply exhausting all areas. You
see,” he says with a huff, wringing his hands together. “We have good
reason to believe he may have sexually abused and possibly raped some
underage girls. I know it isn’t what you want to hear, but we have
irrefutable evidence that states otherwise.”
She falls back in her chair and the pen she’d been fiddling with drops to
the floor. Any color she once had in her cheeks drains away, leaving her
pale. Her head makes subtle shaking movements. Dillon doesn’t let up,
delivering all the bad news in one blow.
“We also know his son is responsible for many other crimes including
the kidnapping and rape of…” he trails off.
Both of their eyes find mine. Maryann’s face crumples as a loud sob
erupts from her.
“No,” she chokes out through her tears. “You’re mistaken. This is a
mistake. Right, Jade?”
My brow pinches as sorrow for her fate fills the room, drowning the
once happy memories she no doubt has of the man we speak of.
“I’m so sorry, Maryann. It’s not a mistake.”
“No…” Her hands tremble as she covers her mouth, trying to stuff her
cries back inside.
 A tear of my own leaks out and I quickly swipe it away.
“The truth is hard to hear, and we know this is a shock for you. It was
for us too, but we believe he’s been covering up for his son all these years.
When I managed to escape captivity at Benny’s house, I saw a framed
picture of him and his old family. It explains a lot of other cases with
missing evidence and other unusual happenings. I’m so sorry, but we need
your help to apprehend him.”
Dillon shows her the picture and explains more about the girl who came
in recently. While he speaks to her, I withdraw from the moment. I hate that
he’s just as sick as his son and has been taking advantage of girls this entire
time. He’s used his position of power to get away with heinous crimes.
They continue to talk, but I’m only half listening. Eventually, he brings
up the topic of medication, which startles me.
“Did your husband ever ask you for medications?” he questions. “Birth
control pills? Morning after pills? Sleeping pills? Any other medication we
should know about?”
Her face blanches and she swallows, picking at her long tidy
fingernails.
“It’s okay,” I urge, hopefully keeping my voice calm.
“Off the record,” she says pointedly. “Yes.” Dillon nods for her to
continue and she reaches for a tissue before dabbing under her eyes. “He
told me he dealt with a lot of sexual abuse cases and it was a nightmare to
get through all the red tape, especially if they were underage, to get them
what they needed. Nine times out of ten, it was too late and the girls would
have unwanted pregnancies at the hands of their rapists. I felt horrible for
these girls and wrote him the prescriptions any time he asked. Oh God,” she
chokes. “I’ll lose my license to practice medicine over this. I only wanted to
help.”
I sniffle and shake my head. “It’s off the record, right, Dillon?”
He grunts but nods after a moment. “Fine.”
“Besides, if you hadn’t prescribed some of those medications, things
could be much worse for these girls.” Like me. “Benny regularly gave me
medication through my food or water. Usually to knock me out for any
given reason but the birth control makes a lot of sense. If he gave them to
me, perhaps he was giving them to other girls. And same for your
husband.”
 Dillon frowns. “I thought you said you couldn’t get pregnant because of
what Benny had done to you.”
“I can’t,” I assure him. “There’s too much scarring on my cervix. When
I first escaped, the doctor at the time told me it was highly unlikely I would
ever carry a child full term.”
“Highly unlikely but not impossible,” Maryann says quietly.
I drag my gaze over to her and frown. “What do you mean?”
“Just that our bodies are amazing machines and have a way of healing
themselves.” Her teary eyes bore into mine. A chill washes over me.
“Detective Scott, I hope I’ve given you enough information,” she says
finally.
He stares between the two of us and shakes his head to clear whatever
thoughts are holding him.
“Actually,” he grumbles, “I have another question. Is there anywhere
you can think he would go? Do you have any property in the family that is
empty?”
“No. He likes the woods and lakes. Fishing is a hobby of his.”
“Thanks for speaking to us,” Dillon says as he rises to his feet. I start
after him, but Maryann reaches for my arm to stop me from leaving. “Can I
speak to you privately for a minute?”
Dillon’s scowl heats the room, but I offer him a reassuring smile,
silently telling him I will be fine.
He remains quiet for a second more than what most would find
acceptable, but then closes the door behind him as he leaves.
“Take a seat,” she tells me, and butterflies flutter around in my stomach
at her serious tone. If she says her husband has been touching her girls, I
may lose my cool and smack her across the face. Maybe we should bring
them in for questioning. No, but sending over a social worker is protocol in
situations like this. I’ll make the call as soon as I leave here.
“Jade, we tested your urine.”
Her words daze me. Not what I was expecting her to say, but okay.
“And what exactly does that mean?”
Oh God. If that animal has given me a sexually transmitted virus or
something, I’m going to revive him when I kill him just to kill him all over
and over again.
“I mean that before I realized it was you, I was about to congratulate
you.” Her red, blotchy eyes bore into mine and acid washes through me.
“The hCG levels were high in your urine. You’re pregnant.”
Quiet buzzing from the halogen light above me is all that can be heard.
This can’t be.
“It’s too soon to know that,” I hiss out. “I can’t be pregnant with his
baby!” I stand, but my legs feel too weak to hold me and I drop back into
the seat.
I can’t have children. Children were never part of a future for me. Like
father, like son. No way am I carrying a child by that monster.
No. No. No.
The room spins and tears clog my eyes and throat.
She shakes her head. “Jade, breathe. It’s okay. The levels in your urine
indicate you’re several weeks into your pregnancy. We can confidently say
three weeks or over, but need to do an ultrasound to confirm that. You were
with your kidnapper sexually how many days or weeks ago? Not three
weeks ago.”
She watches the news.
I nod, tears spilling down my cheeks. If dying was an option right now,
I’d take that over being pregnant with Benny’s child. Women have their
rapist’s children all the time, but how can I love a child I would fear? Fear
would poison everything, and that’s not fair for the child or me.
“The levels would be lower if that were the case. It’s amazing what we
can do with urine tests nowadays,” she assures me. “Based on your last
period, according to what you wrote on the chart, it all matches up to you
conceiving three or more weeks ago.”
My mind spins as overwhelming fear and love collide inside my chest.
The timeline puts Dillon as the father? A peace settles over me, but it’s
short lived. I can’t take in everything she’s telling me. This was something I
never thought could happen, and now, amongst all this pandemonium, a
miracle was possible?
“So, it’s not Benny’s?” I clarify, my voice husky with emotion.
“It’s highly unlikely. Is there a boyfriend?” she asks, tilting her head to
the side.
She doesn’t know about Dillon and me. Why would she?
When I drag my gaze over to the door he left through, she follows my
trail and the corner of her mouth lifts slightly. Bile creeps back up my
throat. It certainly explains the sickness I’ve been feeling lately.
 “B-But the hospital took my blood and urine when I got away from
him,” I argue.
She pats my foot. “A few days can make a difference of whether or not
the hCG levels are high enough to pick up on. I could do a vaginal
ultrasound to give us a clearer timeline.”
Oh God. They wanted to examine me and swab me at the hospital and I
refused. That may have caused a miscarriage. Is this fate? A good thing to
come from all the bad? What will Dillon say?
Why now?
My thoughts drift to Bo.
“Why do you think I never got pregnant the entire time I was with my
ex-fiancé?” I murmur. “Why now?”
She lifts an eyebrow at the door Dillon exited through. “Perhaps his
swimmers were faster. Or maybe there was something wrong with your ex-
fiancé’s sperm count. Did he ever have any childhood illnesses? Mumps or
measles?”
“I distinctly remember being seven years old and my mother forbidding
me to go next door. I’d heard her grumbling about parents who refuse to
vaccinate their children and what did that woman expect to happen. A few
weeks later when I’d seen Bo, he told me he had the measles,” I tell her.
“Well, there you go. More than likely, it would have made him sterile. It
isn’t uncommon.” She hands me a pamphlet to look through. “We’ll be able
to detect a heartbeat in a few weeks or so. You’ll need to start on a prenatal
vitamin.”
I briefly glance at the pamphlet. It’s all too much to take in. I need to
know for sure it’s not Benny’s before I can let myself believe this is actually
happening. I hand the pamphlet back to her. I can’t look at this right now.
“Can I come back for a scan when I’m alone?” I ask in a soft tone.
Her hands reach for mine and she nods her head. “Of course. It’s been a
shocking day for us both.” Dropping my hands, she swipes at her eye again.
“I think I need to go to the precinct and see Marcus. I need to know
everything, and I need to protect my girls from all of this.”
Nodding in agreement, I exhale. This will be hard for her and her
family. I have no doubt she will make it through this, though. She’s a strong
woman.
The drive from the clinic back to Cassy and Brent’s is quiet. Dillon has a
death grip on one hand and I have my prescription for vitamins clutched
tightly in the other. Somehow, with him, this doesn’t seem as scary.
What is scary is the warning Maryann gave me—that I needed to make
sure I kept my stomach moisturized, especially on the scar, because as my
stomach swells, it will stretch the tender skin and no doubt be painful.
Much like when women get pregnant after a tummy tuck.
She’d handled the news of her husband’s nefarious deeds like a pro and
promised to aid us in our investigation in any way she could. The very idea
that he’d been thought to have done some terrible sexual acts with underage
girls, especially since they have two young daughters, had seemed to be
what made her want to help. Nobody wants to side with a monster.
When we pull up to the Calhoun’s, his truck isn’t in the driveway, but
it’s getting dark and they more than likely went to dinner. My nerves begin
to get the best of me. Every shadow seems to move beyond the glass. I’m so
worked up that when my car door slings open, I let out a scream.
Dillon bends over and peers inside at me. “You okay?”
I accept his offered hand, quickly nodding. “Sorry,” I mutter with a
shake to my head, “just need to lie down, I think.”
Once we’re safely inside with the door locked behind us and make our
way inside the guest room, Dillon sheds his black blazer. The white shirt he
wears underneath stretches over his bulky muscles and my emotions do a
one-eighty once again. I’ve gone from fretting to wanting him to take off all
his clothes.
“Dillon,” I start, but he takes three long steps until he’s right in front of
me. His heat warms the front of my chest as he peers down at me. I can’t
help but smile when he spears a possessive hand into my hair.
“I never needed much of a family or a life…” he murmurs, and licks his
lips. I want to lick them too. “Until you. Whether we can make one or not,
you’re my family now, Jade.”
My heart rate speeds up and I chew on my bottom lip. Everything inside
of me screams for him to burst through the little wall of safety he’s created
between us and make love to me, yet I can’t voice this. I’m not even sure
why. So I settle for pleading with my eyes.
“You’re giving me fuck me eyes, Detective,” he growls.
His lips slide over mine for a soft second before he kisses me so hard I
can’t breathe. I’ve missed the barely contained need that seems to surround
Dillon whenever we’re together. I want him to lose control. I need him to
erase it all.
“Dillon…”
He growls again and my panties dampen. If I didn’t feel lightheaded, I’d
climb him like a tree and rip his clothes off along the way.
“I need you, babe,” he breathes against my lips. “Tell me you need me
too.”
His hand is gentle as his grip on my uninjured hip slips to my ass. He
drags the fabric of my dress up in a slow, torturous way.
“Yes,” I assure him in a hiss. “I do.”
Yanking at my dress, he pulls it up over my head and his fingers caress
my flesh as if I’m one of Benny’s breakable porcelain dolls.
I am not breakable.
“I’m not made of glass,” I bite out a little harsher than intended.
He jolts at my words and stares down at me. Understanding—
something Bo and I never had—passes between us. Dillon simply gets me.
With a clenching jaw, he all but rips my bra from me, though he’s gentler
when he slides my panties down my thighs. His gaze is hard as he tears off
his clothes in record speed.
“On the bed, hard ass,” he says in a playful way.
I smile at him and lie down on the soft comforter. He stands for a
moment beside the bed, taking in my appearance, his cock jutting out and
seeming to point right at me.
“You’re mine, Jade. You were never anyone else’s. Ever,” he tells me,
his voice rumbling with possessiveness. “Even when you’re not with me…”
he pounds his chest over his heart with his fist, “you’re with me.” The stake
of his claim can be felt in every nerve-ending in my body. I’m practically
shuddering with need as he climbs on top of me.
For a brief moment, I freeze. Benny’s brutality threatens to take my
mind hostage as I battle to chase away the memory of his abuse. His hot
flesh seems to sizzle my own the closer he gets. The room spins and I fear I
might pass out. But before I can panic, he drops down onto the bed beside
me. With a gentle, yet strong grip, he moves my light frame to straddle him.
“You’re in control,” he murmurs, his dark eyes boring into mine. “Take
what you want, woman.”
I blink away the lingering tears and give him an embarrassed nod. “I’m
sorry.”
He rolls his eyes and a chuckle escapes me. No more words are needed
as I slowly ease myself onto his hardened cock. I expect pain or flashes of
terror or Benny’s face to suddenly materialize.
I’m pleasantly surprised when none of that happens. Dillon’s loving
stare is on mine. His fingertips are running up and down my bare thighs in
an almost lazy way that alights my nerve-endings. And his cock feels
perfect buried deep inside me. My body still aches from my injury but it
isn’t anything I can’t handle.
“I’m going to touch your pretty clit, Jade,” he tells me, his gaze never
leaving mine. “I’m going to rub and pinch it until you come all over my
dick, baby. Got it?”
I nod and let out a yelp the moment he makes good on his promise.
Pleasure zaps through me like I’ve picked up a livewire. “Feels good,” I
murmur. This is us. This is what I was afraid Benny stole from me, but he
didn’t. I’m not afraid or sickened by the act because Dillon and me…we
make love. We have a connection meant to be explored and shared between
our bodies.
His hips buck up into me and I’m thankful because I’m helpless to
move—not when his thumb and finger are punishing my clit in the most
intense way. I fall forward and barely catch myself with my palm on the bed
beside his head. His other hand finds one of my tender breasts. The
pinching and teasing there is softer, but adds to the pleasure he’s already
doling out.
I’m lost inside this moment with Dillon. This moment is ours. Our
precious baby tucked safely away between us. We’re a family.
Please let that be the truth.
I may have lost my parents and sister in a way, but I have this family
now, and I’ll fight for it with everything I am.
“Dillon…”
His thrusts buck into me, teasing my core and driving me crazy. They’re
just stoking the flame and not taking me where I need him. I don’t want to
be in control. What I want is for Dillon to take care of me. For once in my
life, I want to give up that control because I trust, without a shadow of a
doubt, he won’t abuse it.
“Talk to me, baby,” he groans, his face turning redder with each buck of
his hips.
He pinches my clit in such a way, stars glitter across my vision and steal
away his perfect face for a moment. My pussy clenches around his dick and
I let out a cry.
“Ahhh!”
His groan is animalistic. By the pinch of his features and tightening of
his grip, I can tell he’s holding on by a thin thread. I crave to hand him the
scissors so he can cut right through it.
“Fuck me, Dillon,” I beg. “I’m yours.”
My world spins as he flips us over. Always on sync, the two of us—two
jagged pieces of something that fits together beautifully. His mouth
connects with mine in a deep, consuming kiss as he drives into me. Pain
smarts around my healed over injury, but I don’t dare stop him. Instead, I
grip onto his perfect hair and rip at it, urging him on.
This sweet, sexy, beautiful man loses control. He doesn’t try to keep me
from breaking. He doesn’t try to preserve me so I’ll be something pristine
and untouched. No, not Dillon. Dillon owns me with his body. He drives
every ounce of his love into me. His emotions flood into me freely—love
and devotion all shown in the way he fucks me so wildly.
“God,” he groans, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip. “I love you so
goddamn much.”
His words are like a salve on my burned soul. It cauterizes parts of me I
didn’t realize were still hemorrhaging. Dillon heals me.
“I love you too,” I utter out just a second before I’m stolen from him by
another soul-obliterating orgasm.
It’s when his heat floods inside me that I know he’s still here with me.
With every beat of his heart pressed up against mine, I know we’re forever
connected. And soon, another heart will beat with ours.
“This is forever, babe,” he murmurs against my mouth. “You were lost,
but I fucking found you and I’m never losing you again.”
His words make a promise to my heart.
And this time, my heart knows it to be truth.
A love this powerful can’t be broken.
 It can be crushed and burned and smashed, but as long as we have each
other, we’ll keep putting it back together again.
Because love is worth it.
Dillon and I worth it.
Our baby is worth it.

Squad car 2039.

I read the writing again and shake my head. A humorless laugh escapes
me, causing everyone in the room to stop what they’re doing and look at
me.
“He gave Benny a fucking cop car?” I bark out in disbelief.
“We can’t account for it and the security cameras show him taking it on
the day of your rescue,” Marcus states.
Unbelievable. “How did he think he could get away with that?”
Marcus shrugs. “Well if it weren’t for what you found and the fact that
other people came in and reported him by pure coincidence, we wouldn’t
have questioned it.”
He’s right.
Why would we?
He has all the fucking power, the slick son of a bitch.
“So, Benny’s driving around in a squad car,” I scoff. “He could pick up
anyone he wants. Who’s going to question him?”
Marcus places his cup on the table before him. The task room is full
with people searching through records and old police reports going all the
way back to the early eighties. “We’re hoping he will be lying low. He
didn’t kill again after your first escape for many years.”
“That was different,” I breathe. “He’s lost everything this time. He will
either lay low, rebuild, and come for me again, or he will be completely
triggered and escalate in his killings.”
“And Macy?” he asks, and I flinch at the mention of her name.
“Benny will be angry with her,” I murmur. “He will keep her
contained.”
 Dillon reaches for my hand. “If he can,” he adds, and my pulse
stampedes.
He’s right. Macy may be fed up with being restrained. She likes the kill.
The game.
“We’re closing in,” he assures me. “There aren’t many places they can
hide.”
The door squeaks as it’s pushed open and Jefferson stands there holding
up a piece of paper. “We have something,” he announces, and my blood
hums. The door closes behind him as he slaps the paper on the table. “An
address,” he beams.
“And?” Marcus shouts, slamming his palm on the table.
“Diamond Glitter said he took her there a few times. Made her dress up
as a school girl.” He shudders.
“Diamond Glitter?” I snort, shaking my head in confusion.
“She’s a stripper,” Dillon announces, getting to his feet and grabbing up
the piece of paper. “A cabin. Maryanne didn’t mention they had another
property.”
“She didn’t know he was a fucking pervert either,” I argue in her
defense.
With a grunt, Marcus points out the door. “Let’s go check it out.”
The space is almost alive with the atmosphere breathing into the room.
We all want him and his sicko son. This is fucking personal. He is one of us
—under our nose this whole time doing the opposite of everything we stand
for.

OceanofPDF.com
Dillon
THAT’S HIS FUCKING CAR. SON of a bitch. You’d think with all his years on the
force he would be better at covering his tracks. Diamond gave him up for a
fifty-dollar bill.
My gun is tight in my grip as I hover over the door of the car watching
everyone else closing in around the back. I’m too fucking trigger happy for
this cunt to be up there. Death is what the dirty cop deserves, but we need
information from him so that will have to wait. Prison is a far better
punishment for him. He won’t last five minutes in there before he’s tasting
sexual abuse of his own and no doubt a shiv afterwards. Cops are fucked
inside. Hated by everyone.
“Take him alive.” Marcus’ voice radios into our ear pieces.
A window breaks and smoke billows out from a grenade fired inside.
The door is busted open and shouts ring out. “Don’t fucking move.”
Bang.
No!
“We need an ambulance.”
Bolting from the safety of my car, I run to the shack Diamond calls a
cabin. I push through the front door and into the living room where Marcus
and five other officers have their weapons pointing to the groaning figure
on the floor. He holds his bleeding arm, and I exhale.
“Scott?” He groans, wriggling around like the worm he is.
I grin down at him, fury and satisfaction of catching him rippling
through my emotions. “You are under arrest, motherfucker. You have the
right to remain silent or cry in pain, your choice. If you do say anything, it
can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have a
lawyer present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one
will be appointed for you if you so desire, but it won’t fucking help you
escape my wrath,” I improvise.
I feel her before I see her. Jade wanted to remain in the car and not be
part of the arrest. She didn’t say why and I didn’t push it. She has a right to
want whatever the fuck she likes.
“I trusted you,” she hisses, her voice barely heard over the thrum of
activity and voices.
He narrows his eyes at her. “He’s my son.”
She laughs, and it’s pitchy and unnatural. “You couldn’t give a fuck
about him. You cared that him being caught would cost you everything, but
you lost it anyway.”
He sneers at her. “It got me off having you working for me while
knowing where you’d been those eight years.” He spits blood to the floor
from the split in his lip. “I came there once and saw you naked and bleeding
from the cunt, a bottle lying next to your hunched-over, unconscious form.”
He’s going to fucking die.
“He let me have a go.” He rubs his cock. “Showed me why he likes you
so much.”
Every muscle coils tight as I propel myself forward, but jolt to a halt
when strong hands and arms grab at me, holding me back. He’s dead. I’m
going to rip him limb from limb.
“Dillon,” Jade murmurs, causing my body to still as she moves closer to
him. “It’s okay.”
She narrows her eyes at him. “Benny is a fucked up piece of shit. But he
wouldn’t let your old, disgusting ass near me. I know that for sure. So, say
what you want to try to get me to end your miserable life, but I won’t.” She
raises her leg and kicks him hard in the face, knocking him clean out. “But I
will do that.”
I drag my gaze away from the satisfied expression she’s making to
regard the asshole sprawled out on the floor. “You’re going to pay for your
crimes the right way,” I mutter to his unmoving frame, “Chief.”
Looking down at Stanton, blood gushing from his lip and nose, I
swallow the urge to kick his head in as well.
My girl needed that, though.
She did well.
Closure is a great healer and we are finally giving her some. Benny’s
world is getting smaller and smaller, and soon, we will crush him in it.
Two days and he’s still refusing to speak. The hospital says he can leave
today, though, so he better get real fuckin’ chatty.
“No more stalling,” I growl.
“I want a deal.” His broken nose makes him sound like he has a cold.
Asshole must be high on medication if he thinks he’s getting any deal. We
have enough evidence and charges to put him away for the rest of his days.
“I give you Benny and I get the deal.”
My heart rocks in my chest. Could he really give him to us?
“You don’t have a lot of cards to play here,” I snap.
“But I have that one.” His eyes narrow.
I scratch at the stubble starting to grow in on my jaw. “Does Benny
know you have other kids?” I’m genuinely curious and not opposed to
using tactics that usually would be beneath me.
His eye twitches. Cunt. That’s the same twitch his son has. I fucking
knew I’d sensed familiarity in Benny.
“He doesn’t, does he?” I smirk.
His shoulders tense. “You leave the twins out of this.”
Unbelievable.
He gives a shit about them. After he abused and caused his first
daughter’s death, he actually holds fatherly affection for his other children.
Why them? What made his other child different, so much so that she
became his victim, but he wanted to protect the others? It was hard listening
to Jade when she shared the stories Benny told her about his sister, Bethany.
“I’m thinking we put out a plea from the girls to their brother to turn
himself in. Maybe dress them up as pretty little dolls. Really draw his
attention to them,” I warn, grinning wolfishly from ear to ear.
I’d never put them in danger or out them really, but this pig doesn’t
need to know that.
He exhales loudly. “I don’t know where he is. I dropped a car off and
that’s it. I haven’t heard from him.”
“How did you communicate?”
 His jaw tightens and he fists the covers of his hospital bed. “I have a
number for him.”
Marcus nods his head to me and flips his notepad open, taking down the
number. “I’ll put a trace on it to see if the GPS is on.”
“It won’t be,” Stanton scoffs. “He only turns its on once a day at
midday.”
What the fuck?
“I’m the only one who has the number and we only contact each other if
there’s a reason to.”
A quick glance at my watch tells me it’s nearly two-thirty.
“We’ll be in touch,” I tell him in a bland tone as Marcus and I leave the
room.
“Check it anyway. If not, then we wait,” I tell Marcus.
“What if we don’t get a trace?” he questions. “We could get Jade to call
him. Try to get him to come in.”
“He won’t come in unless it’s in a body bag.” Walking down the
corridor, I throw out over my shoulder, “Take that sack of shit to fucking
prison.”
Stanton’s time is up. He has nothing else to offer and a shit-ton crimes
to pay for.

The aroma of sweet baked goods fills the air and invades my senses as I
push open the door to Cassy and Brent’s house. I hear a giggle and know
it’s my girl. It sounds like music.
“Mine doesn’t look like that,” Jade chuckles.
Cassy speaks as I round the corner. “Girl, good things come in all
shapes and sizes and still taste just as sweet. Ain’t that right, baby?” she
coos over to Brent, who’s standing by the sliding doors to the patio with his
arms crossed and a broad grin on his lips.
“Damn straight, woman.”
“What smells like heaven?” I ask, strolling over and breaking up the
threesome.
 “I baked a cake,” Jade beams before coming over to me and throwing
her arms around my waist. “I missed you.”
“We can take it to Jasmine. She’ll be thrilled.” I rub my palms up and
down her arms, inhaling her sweet scent.
Breaking away, she winces. “It’s not pretty.”
I glance over at the two cakes sitting side by side. One is perfect to look
at while the other is lopsided and smeared with far too much frosting. I
can’t help but grin. “It’s fucking perfect, Jade.”
She scrunches her nose and I notice frosting on the tip. Tugging her to
me, I lick it off her nose. She giggles under my attack.
“God,” I say with a rumble, “I love you so goddamn much.”
I can’t stop telling her. If she didn’t light up as if hearing it for the first
time every time, I’d fear I’m being a pussy bitch and going to frighten her
off.
“Go get ready, baby,” I instruct with a soft slap to her ass. “We have
somewhere to be.”
Releasing her, I regard her as she leaves the room. A smile plays on my
lips and I look up to find both Brent and Cassy grinning at me.
“Yeah…yeah…” I grumble, and they both chuckle.

OceanofPDF.com
Jade
Cassy gives me a quick hug and the scent of almonds from cooking
emanates from her, offering comfort. She’s stolen from me when Brent’s
huge frame comes up behind her and he tugs her into him, his strong arms
possessively wrapping around her middle. She giggles like a teenager and
he dips to nuzzle her neck. They’re a beautiful couple and I feel blessed that
Dillon introduced me to them.
“She’s going to love you,” Cassy assures me with a wink.
I nod my head before hurrying toward Dillon, who’s sitting in his car
staring over at us.
Once I slip inside, I fidget with the hem of my top.
“You look stunning, babe.”
I roll my eyes playfully and follow his gaze back to Brent and Cassy,
who are waving us off.
“They’re a great couple, you know? Thank you for bringing me here.”
His lips press into a firm line and he regards me thoughtfully. “I want
that, Jade.”
I turn to look in to his eyes. His hand slips into my own, closing his
fingers around mine.
“I’ve never really had anyone I’ve wanted more with…” His eyes track
me and hold me hostage. “Until you.” His hand tightens. “I want everything
with you. All of it. I want to give you everything you ever dreamed of. A
home. A family. A future without fear.” He gives me a lopsided grin that
turns my insides to mush. “I want to give you my last name.”
Emotion chokes me up. His wife? I always thought I’d be a terrible
wife, but maybe I’d just be a terrible wife to anyone who isn’t Dillon. To
him, I could be a good wife. We’re the same breed. He awoke something
inside me I never thought existed.
But is it all too soon?
No.
I’m certain of that.
What we’ve been through is more than anyone has to deal with in a
lifetime—heck, a thousand lifetimes. We’ve been to hell and back, together.
Any time without him is time I don’t want.
“I want that,” I rush out, my tone serious. “I want to marry you.”
He flashes me a mischievous grin. “Us southern boys typically like to
pop the actual question before we get our answer.” His wink does me in.
Embarrassment washes over me. He hadn’t actually asked, had he?
“Oh…God. I’m so stu—”
He cuts me off with a growl. “Don’t you dare take it back, beautiful.”
I let out a whimper when he drags me across the console and onto his
lap. “You really want to be my wife?” Disbelief colors his tone. His brown
eyes twinkle with excitement and his palm tenderly caresses my cheek.
“Will you please be my wife?” He gives me his best puppy dog face and
sweet Jesus does it ever work.
“You bet your ass I will.” The smile on my face hurts. A good kind of
hurt.
His fingers thread into my hair and he tugs me until our lips just barely
press against each other. “Good answer, Detective,” he breathes.
I let out a moan when he kisses me tenderly. When we finally break
apart, I grin at him. “Good question, Detective.”

“Are you sure she’ll like me?” I probe as I look in the mirror on the visor of
the car for the millionth time. It’s the first time I’ve put on makeup in what
feels like ages.
Dillon chuckles from the driver side. “She’ll love you. That’s the
problem. Just wait. By the time we leave, she’ll have planned out a wedding
date and what we’ll name every single one of our children.”
 Wedding date?
Children?
“Dillon,” I whine, “you’re going to tell her about the marriage thing?”
He turns into the driveway of a modest home with an immaculate yard.
“Mom has spidey senses. You’ll see. We won’t have to tell her. She’ll just
know.”
At that statement, he climbs out of the car and I scramble out after him.
When he gets to my side, he wraps an arm around me. “It will be fine, Jade.
I promise.”
I’m panicking by the time the door slings open and a cute little girl with
glasses and crooked pigtails comes bounding down the steps. I barely
manage to step away from Dillon’s grip before the girl launches herself into
his arms.
“Uncle Dill Pickle!” she squeals.
He tosses her in the air like she weighs nothing before squeezing her to
his broad chest. “Hey, kumquat. What did I miss?”
She begins rambling on about how she helped make cookies and then
gripes about a bully at school. Finally, she tells him about a new scooter she
wants for Christmas.
Meanwhile, I’m frozen like a statue, staring at their easy relationship.
Dillon will be a great dad. He makes parenting look easy. This little girl is
everything in his eyes and it melts my heart. It gives me hope that, with my
fearless partner, maybe I could be a good parent too.
“She’s pretty. Are you a princess?”
I startle upon realizing she’s talking to me. “Who, me?”
She giggles and squirms her way down to the ground. Without
hesitation, she bounces over to me and hugs my middle. “I’m Jasmine.”
I smile down at her. Her happiness is infectious. It makes my broken
heart pound wildly in my chest. “I’m not a princess. More like a dragon
slayer,” I tease. “Jade.”
“Like the green-colored stones we learned about in science class?”
“Exactly so,” I tell her. When I glance over at Dillon, he’s standing
beside an older woman who looks a lot like him. Both are staring at me as if
I’m something special.
Me.
Special.
My heart patters in my chest at such a notion.
 “Will you play with me?” she asks, her cute nose scrunching up at me.
“You two can play later, Jazzy,” the woman calls out. “We’re about to
eat supper.”
I approach her and Dillon and he grabs my hand to tug me against his
chest. “Mom, this is Jade Phillips. My partner and girlfriend. Jade, this is
my mother, Brenda Scott.”
We shake hands and her eyes narrow at me before she glances at her
son. “Girlfriend, huh? Seems a little more serious by the way you won’t let
her go.” Her eyes fall to where I’ve been absently rubbing my stomach. “A
lot more serious.”
Heat burns across my flesh, but Dillon saves the day.
“We’re going to be married. So, yeah, a lot more serious. Like
permanently serious.” He looks down at me and flashes me a panty-melting
grin.
Brenda’s eyes light up with happiness and I’m soon pulled into a
motherly embrace. “I’m thrilled to finally meet the one,” she murmurs
against my hair. “He’s a good man. You’re lucky to have found him.”
I nod my understanding. “He’s the best, Brenda.”
“Darn tootin’ he is,” she says with a laugh. “And call me Mom.”
Her words should sting, but they don’t. It’s like she was the one who
gifted her son those special powers of love and acceptance. Once more, I
feel as though a salve has been applied to an aching wound in my heart.
“I’d like that,” I tell her.
And I would.

Dillon and Brenda chatter away long after the dishes have been done and
the food put away. She’s drilling him on what his plans are for our future
now that we’re going to be married, but I don’t quite hear his answers. My
attention is focused through the window where Jasmine is playing out back.
All I do know is Dillon seems sure and pleased. Thoughts of how he will
react about this surprise pregnancy don’t feel like a burden after all he said
earlier about wanting everything with me.
 Please let this baby be his.
Jasmine plays with a doll that’s nearly as big as her. Grabbing onto its
hands, she spins it around out in the yard and I can’t help but feel nostalgic.
Everything about her reminds me of how innocent Macy once was. I miss
the way my sister used to be—before Benny infected her with his sickness.
“What about your job at the precinct, are you well enough to work?”
she questions, dragging my attention from Jasmine.
“I’m sure once I’ve healed up a bit from my surgery I’ll go back,” I tell
her, but I don’t mention that I’m already involved in the ongoing
investigation.
They continue babbling to each other and my attention flits back to
Jasmine. She’s standing farther out in the yard near a shed. The door is open
and she’s peering inside.
“You’re going to have to come over more, son,” Brenda chides. “Your
poor girlfriend is nothing but skin and bones. I’m going to fatten her up.”
I flash her an appreciative smile before glancing back at Dillon and
letting him take my hand.
“She needs a ring,” Brenda says with a raised brow.
Dillon nods his head. “You’re right. I was actually going to ask you
about that.”
Jumping up, she claps her hands. “Say no more. You know I want you
to have it.” She walks away and we hear her shuffling around in a room off
to the right of the dining room.
When something clatters in the other room, I shoot him a shy smile. He
grins back before tugging me against him. His soft lips brush against mine
before he devours me with one of his soul-consuming kisses that I feel all
the way down to my core. By the time he pulls away, I’m breathless and
embarrassingly needy for him.
“You need help, Mom?” Dillon calls out before flashing me a dark look
that says he’s just as eager for me.
“It’s in here,” she hollers from the other room. “Everything’s just a
mess. Jasmine is obsessed with dolls lately and dressing up in my old
clothes.”
Pretty little doll.
She appears back in the room holding up a small jewelry box.
“She’s even gone as far as having an imaginary friend out in the shed
named Dolly. I think it’s a coping mechanism to deal with all the bullying at
her school,” she tuts, but I’m frozen, and Dillon is squeezing my hand so
tight, I think the bones crack beneath it.
My bones rattle beneath the skin as I get to my feet. The room is too
small. Too hot. It spins as I whisper. “No…”
“Jade?” Dillon, who usually is on the same page as me, seems to be two
steps behind me.
My feet begin to tread over the carpet before I gain enough control of
my limbs to break into a run.
“Jasmine!” As soon as the warm air outdoor air swirls around me, I
search the yard for her. “Jasmine!” Her name is shrieked from me as I start
for the shed where I last saw her playing. Dillon is calling my name and I
manage to send him a terrified look before bolting toward the small metal
building.
“Nooooo!” I scream, my feet pumping as fast as I can.
Heavy footsteps thunder from behind me and Dillon soon passes me up
on a race toward the shed. When I round the corner, he’s already running
through a wide open gated door. By the time I catch up to him, I can hear
the screech of tires.
I’m stunned into shock.
Déjà vu.
Dillon squats, his chest heaving from exertion, and picks up her small
pair of glasses. When his rage-filled glare meets mine, I shudder. “She’s
gone.”
“No.”
“She’s fucking gone.” He drops to the ground on his knees and stares up
at me in disbelief, his head shaking.
“Oh God, what’s going on?” Brenda cries as she makes it through the
gate, her words breathy from exertion. “Dillon?”
This is my fault.
“I’ll get her back,” I vow, the small slither of happiness and hope
draining from my heart as it shatters at his feet.
I won’t allow this to happen again.

OceanofPDF.com
Benny
I STARE AT THE MESSAGE my broken little doll has left me and fury bubbles
up within me. I’m so fucking exhausted, but aggression still floods my
system. I like games, but only when I’m the one making the rules.
Come home, Master. I have a present for you.
I’d stepped out to get what I needed to put my final plan into action.
Apparently tying my broken doll to the radiator wasn’t enough of a clue
that I wanted her to stay here. She is getting way beyond my control and
that makes her more dangerous for me getting caught.
I run my fingers through my thick hair in frustration. I’m second-
guessing everything now. What if they had police still patrolling the house
in case we return? No. They wouldn’t think we’d be that stupid.
It’s still a risk, though.
Fuck!
I snatch up my bag and storm out of the shit hole we’ve been hiding in.
When I climb into the squad car, I wonder why I haven’t heard from Papa
in a while. That, too, causes my nerves to be frayed.
But maybe reaching out is too risky.
That has to be it.
With my shoulders tense and my eyes darting all over the place, I drive
on high alert back to my old house which is within an hour away. What
once offered me a small resemblance of comfort only offers a sense of
failure now.
I let my guard down and trusted that my broken dolly wouldn’t do
anything stupid.
Biggest goddamn mistake of my life.
 As I pull into the drive, police tape flaps in the gentle breeze. The
whistling through the trees is familiar. Scanning my surroundings, it’s
apparent there is no one here watching the place.
What will happen to it now?
Will it be left to decay and grow still? Cold? Moldy like the dusty shit
hole we’ve been holing up in?
After I climb out, I take slow steps toward the house.
What if this is a set up?
Anxious phantoms pull and tug at my insides. I push through the front
door and sadness overwhelms me. There are muddy footprints all over the
floor. Items are knocked over and everything else is missing. They’ve
emptied it of nearly everything.
My chest aches.
I hear movement above me and dart up the stairs to the attic. My heart
stampedes with memories.
“I’m here,” I announce to my broken doll’s back as she leans over a
chair.
Turning with a bright polished smile on her face, she stands aside and
gestures with her hands. “Ta-da!”
My eyes drop to a girl sitting in the chair. Tears well in her young eyes.
She’s in a pretty dress and her hair is plaited into pigtails.
“What is this?” I demand, a bite to my tone.
My broken doll’s eyes twinkle with pride. “I got you a new dirty doll.”
I look between the pair and step backwards.
Is she fucking serious right now?
“She’s a child!” I snap. I’m not a pervert.
“She’s not much younger than me when you took me,” she argues, her
voice scathing. Her eyes bore into mine, like she can obliterate me with her
will alone.
She’s never been mad at me for taking her.
She’s always been keen to please.
Keen to obey.
Keen to be loved.
So why the fuck does she seem pissed off now?
The anger inside me is too hot to control. It’s blinding and seeps
through my pores. “I didn’t want you to begin with,” I hiss.
 Her eyes blink open and closed, confusion morphing her features.
“What do you mean?” she whines, playing with the hem of her dress.
I step forward, shaking my head in disgust. “I only fucking took you
because I wanted your sister.”
“You’re a liar.” Rage ripples through her and her eyes seem to glow
with fury. “You’re a liar!” she shouts, grabbing the girl by her head. “I
brought you a new dolly.” The girl shrieks at having her hair pulled. “I took
her from them. For you, Benjamin. For us.”
“Who did you take her from?” I demand.
She smirks at me. “From Jade and her sexy detective man.” The glint in
her eye tells me she’s baiting me by calling Dillon “Soon To Be Dead”
Scott sexy. “She’s his niece.” She strokes the girl’s tearstained face and
grins at me. “A new dirty doll just for you.”
The girl is young. Real young. Her skin is flawless like unpainted
porcelain.
“I’m not a fucking pervert,” I seethe. “I don’t want a child.”
Her back straightens and she glares at me. “You don’t want anyone but
her. And she doesn’t want you.”
“Fine,” she screams, “I’ll find you a new one!” She snatches a sharp
pointed pair of scissors from a nearby table and plunges her weapon toward
the child’s neck.
In three quick steps, I manage to grab her arm before she makes impact.
If she is telling the truth about the child being Dillon’s niece, then I can use
her to get my doll back. But a dead child wouldn’t get me anything but an
angry dirty doll.
“I want to go home,” the little girl sobs.
Macy struggles to break free from my hold as I round the chair and pull
her body against my chest, her front facing outwards. She wriggles and
fights me, becoming hysterical. “I’ll kill her if you don’t want her. And then
I’m going to kill Jade!” she screams, flailing around in my arms. “I’ll kill
everyone and you will only have me to love.” Her body squirms in my
arms, but I hold her tighter so she won’t get loose.
This doll is too broken.
I’ll never fix her jagged little mind.
Tears burn my eyes for the first time in I don’t know how long. Grief
and anger battling internally, as I fight to keep hold of her.
 “Do you hear me?” she screams, throwing her loose arm into a fist and
plowing it into my leg. “I’m going to slice Jade into a million pieces and
then she’ll be gone forever.”
I know she’ll do it too.
And I can’t allow it.
“Close your eyes,” I bark out at the little girl over my shoulder.
A pained roar rips from my chest as I draw her arm in and clutch her fist
holding the scissors. Using all my strength, I bring her hand across her
throat, adding pressure to ensure the blades cut deep in order to end her life
quick.
My broken doll.
Too broken to fix.
Her body stops fighting and I twist her in my arms so I can look at her.
Once mischievous eyes have dulled as her lids flutter closed. She attempts
to say my name, but it comes out as nothing more than a tiny whisper. The
blood pumping from her throat is coming out too fast. Too fucking quickly.
The hole in her neck is catastrophic.
A means to an end.
She may have been broken and ugly, but the brilliant crimson pouring
from her is beautiful. It soaks us, as if to stain my mind forever with its
color.
As soon as she goes completely limp, realization courses through me.
I did this.
I broke my doll indefinitely.
No putting her back together again.
You’ll get a new dolly.
My chest aches. Despite her ruining everything, I truly was fond of her.
I collapse to the floor with her in my lap and rock her as the little girl’s
choked sobs fill the room behind me.
“Miss Polly had a dolly who was sick, sick, sick.
So she phoned for the doctor to be quick, quick, quick.
The doctor came with his bag and his hat
And he knocked at the door with a rat-a-tat-tat.
He looked at the dolly and he shook his head
And he said ‘Miss Polly, put her straight to bed!’
He wrote on a paper for a pill, pill, pill
‘I’ll be back in the morning yes I will, will, will.’”
OceanofPDF.com
Jade
DILLON IS INCONSOLABLE.
Nothing gets through to him as Brenda relays everything Jasmine has
been saying about her friend, Dolly. It’s been five hours since she was taken
and we have no leads. Nothing to go on.
Macy.
Jesus Christ.
My very own sister kidnapped Dillon’s niece, and that terrifies us both.
She’s unstable, and if working alone, unpredictable.
Guilt surges through me. This is all my fault. But I can fix it. I will fix
it.
I excuse myself from the room to try the number Stanton gave us for
Benny again, but there’s nothing. My heart aches and I feel helpless. So
damn helpless.
I hit redial and stiffen when the ringing tone sounds in my ear. My
hands tremble and I rush to sit on the chair in the corner of the room so I
don’t fall to the floor.
Why would he turn his phone on?
The line picks up and breathing whistles down the line.
“Benjamin?” I ask meekly.
“Dirty Doll?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
Oh my God. He actually picked up.
This is it.
“I have something that belongs to your partner,” he grumbles, but
there’s something different in his tone.
Defeat?
 “Is she okay?” I choke out.
He snorts. “I’m not a pervert. I was just going to call you. How did you
get this number? You think I’d touch her? She’s a child.” His words and
sentences are unraveled, just like his mind. “I’m not a pervert.”
“I know. I know,” I coo, feeling sick for indulging him.
“This wasn’t my plan,” he tells me. His voice is sad, lost almost. “I
could never replace you.”
I swallow down my fear. “What do you want, Benjamin? Let’s get
Jasmine home safe. She’s innocent, like Bethany. Just a little girl,” I
murmur. “You won’t keep her because you’re not a pervert.”
“I’m not a pervert,” he echoes. “I only want you. If you come home, we
can let her go.”
Home.
“Is that where you are, Benjamin? Did you go home?” Just the reminder
of his home has me shuddering.
He lets out a choked breath of air as if he may be crying. “They
destroyed it all. Come home. Please.”
“Okay,” I assure him. Anything to get Jasmine away from him.
I can’t believe he went back there. Does he want to be caught? Maybe
he’s tired of running.
“Alone,” he snarls. “Come alone. If you don’t…” His words die off and
another terrified shiver ripples through me. “I’ll kill her before anyone can
storm the place.”
And he will.
This has to be just the two of us.
I’m ending this now.
“Where’s Macy?” I question, my voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m afraid
she may hurt me again. Can you tell her I love her and want to come
home?”
I can’t risk Macy coming at me again. This baby has to be protected.
“I’d never let her hurt you,” he vows, and his promise is one I actually
believe. “That was out of my control before.” He sounds weak and tired.
“You were all fucking naughty and everything went to shit like always.
How come none of you bad dollies ever learn?”
“I’m not naughty now,” I tell him, squeezing my eyes shut. “I’m coming
home to you, Benjamin.”
Sneaking away from everyone was easy. They were too distracted with
Jasmine’s kidnapping to notice my slinking off.
I knew this was how it would end.
A showdown between the monster my daddy warned me about…and
me.
Jade Phillips.
Detective.
Survivor.
What Benny doesn’t know is I can be a monster too. He created his own
worst nightmare. I’ll end him once and for all. No more girls will ever be
harmed again by this evil family.
Driving back to the place that holds so many nightmares for me is oddly
therapeutic. There’s no going back. There’s no changing my mind.
Just destroy and move on in peace.
It’s the only way.
The only way I’ll ever feel safe with this child of mine.
Benny will never have another doll again.
I will be his first, and I will be his last.
When I pull up to the driveway, I park on the side of the road rather than
driving straight up to the house. I need the element of surprise. As I step out
of the car, a breeze swirls around me, causing the hairs on my arms to raise.
My senses are on high alert.
I cannot fail.
Failure is absolutely not an option.
Clutching onto my gun in my holster, I let out a sigh. I’m not failing
with this bad boy in my grip.
The walk up to the home straight from my nightmares is quiet aside
from the crunch of my boots on the gravel. I raise my gun as I creep up the
steps of the front porch.
Taking pause, I listen for any sounds of life inside. Eerily, there’s not a
peep. Not a sob from Jasmine. Not a maniacal cackle from my sister. Not a
growled order from Benny. Nothing.
 Swallowing, I push down my fear as I twist the knob. The door makes a
slight creak and I cringe. Still no sound from inside.
I make my way into the house as silently as possible. My footsteps are
light as I check every corner in every room before making my way up to the
dreaded attic.
There’s no way I’m going to be ambushed and drugged like many times
before. Not this time. This time, I’m in control.
An image of Dillon’s handsome face flashes in my mind and I draw
strength from him to power on.
The stairs creak with each step I take. My gun stays raised out in front
of me. He won’t take me by surprise this time.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The dusty scent of the attic is familiar and only causes fear and pain. It’s
almost crippling being here on my own free will, but I don’t let it render me
powerless.
I’m in control here.
When I peek my head around the corner, my heart drops to the floor.
There’s a chair in the middle of the space and little Jasmine sits upon it. Her
arms are behind her back and her ankles tied to the legs. Her face is red and
blotchy and she’s shaking. Benny stands behind her holding a pair of
scissors. Our eyes meet and I suppress a shudder. His dark gaze is terrifying
and otherworldly.
He belongs in hell.
I understand his unspoken warning and lower my gun. He nods to the
floor, so I drop it and then stand upright, my hands raised in front of me.
“Okay, Benjamin,” I murmur, “you have what you want.” My eyes dart
over to the poor child. The bullies from her school probably seem like
annoying gnats in comparison to the monster who has taken her. “Hey
there, Jasmine,” I say, desperately trying to keep my voice calm. “It’s me,
Jade. Everything is going to be okay, sweetheart.” I’m not sure my attempt
to sound reassuring works. Her face crumbles and sobs shake her tiny
frame.
Benny doesn’t lower his weapon. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
 He lifts a pair of handcuffs from the table next to him and chucks them
toward me. I catch them and hook one side on my wrist.
“The other to the cell bar,” he barks. His hair is wild and sticking up in
every direction. Dark bags paint his flesh under his hollow eyes.
I sidestep toward the cell so I don’t take my eyes off the surroundings or
him. When I reach my old cell, my eyes skim over Benny’s form. Dry blood
covers him. From neck to feet. It’s smeared all over his skin and streaked
through his hair.
What the fuck?
“Whose blood is that?” I demand, dropping my hand before having a
chance to obey his command. A thundering of thumps resonates through
my ears from my pounding pulse.
“Jade,” he says, hoarse and broken. My real name. Why use my real
name?
No.
I step forward, and his body mimics mine. My heart tells me the answer
before the truth assaults my mind.
“Where’s Macy?” I choke out in a shrill tone. “Where is she?”
I shove past him toward her open cell door despite his attempts to grab
me. I’m closer to it than he is. As soon as I enter her room, my world tilts
around me.
No.
Thump.
No.
Thump.
No.
Thump.
“Macy,” I gasp. “No…” My body folds in on itself as the wide eyes of
my baby sister stare blankly from her bed. There’s no longer a mattress or
any of her pretty belongings. Everything that was once in here has been
stripped by forensics.
Tears streak down my cheeks as I regard her unmoving form. Limp and
pale, her body lays on the box springs. Discarded. As if she meant nothing.
She meant everything to me.
Her dress is soaked in blood, her neck gaping. She would be so angry if
she were alive knowing she was so dirty. The urge to clean her up consumes
me and sobs blur my vision. I fall to my knees in front of the bed and stroke
her bloody hair.
My sister.
She’s gone.
Strong, unwelcome arms wrap around me from behind and the urge to
vomit is overwhelming. Somehow, I manage to choke it down—but only
barely.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. I can hear the sorrow in his voice and it slices
through me like a sharp blade. “She was going to kill the child and you. I
had no choice. She was so fucking broken.”
With an animalistic roar, I claw away from his body to get to my feet. I
grab the door to her cell and sling it shut, closing us in. When I turn around
to glare at him, he’s back on his feet, his shoulders squared.
“What are you doing?” he asks, confusion marring his deceivingly
handsome features.
“I’m making us face what we’ve done,” I hiss. “We are locked in here
to atone.”
He clenches his eyes shut and begins slapping at the side of his head.
“But she was broken. We couldn’t fix her.”
I growl at him. “You’re the fucking broken one, Benny. You. Are.
Broken.”
His posture stiffens and he looks at me with a severe stare. “Don’t you
dare say that.”
A sob rips through me. My knees want to buckle again as I struggle to
contain my weary soul being crippled with grief. Sorrow is the price we
must pay for love. It’s a burden, but numbing yourself to it only makes you
the corpse.
“We have your dad,” I spit at him through my tears. “He’s been raping
girls for years and you just let that pervert live. After everything he did to
Bethany,” I accuse, pointing a long finger at him.
He stares at my finger as if it has the power to punish him.
Shaking my head, I try not to look over at my dead sister again. This
wasn’t how I imagined things playing out with her. Failing her is all I did.
Am I even cut out to be a mother if I failed at being a big sister?
“He was useful,” he bites back.
“You disgust me.”
“Well, that will change.”
 “No,” I snap, holding my hand up to stop his advance. He looks at my
wrist, his brows pinching together in confusion when he notices the cuffs
are no longer dangling there.
I’m a fucking cop.
I keep a key in my pocket.
“It ends tonight, dirty little doll.”
“You’re right.” I nod my head and let out a harsh laugh. “It does.”
He bends down to retrieve something from his sock and I grab the
second pistol I have strapped to my back and aim it at him before he stands
upright again. I have a third and fourth pistol too. One can never be too
prepared around this prick.
When our eyes meet again, I notice he’s holding a syringe.
“What the hell is that?” I demand, gesturing for it.
His eyes narrow as he gets a glimpse through the bars behind me.
Jasmine is no longer strapped to a chair. I know this because I’m a
detective. I pay attention to the clues. To the sounds. I see through the
distractions.
Unlike poor little Benny. Dumb little doll.
“You didn’t come alone?” he asks. He’s honestly butthurt. His tone
reeks with a feeling of betrayal.
“I’ll never be alone again,” I tell him. “Dillon is part of me. He’s who I
belong with. It was never you, Benjamin.”
His jaw clenches and his eyes darken. “I’ll never let you leave this cell.”
His voice cracks. “Never.”
I wiggle the gun in my hand. “I’m the one holding the gun. You have no
power over me anymore.”
Holding up the syringe, he smirks. “Even if you get a round off, I’ll still
advance and stick this in you. We’re going out together. Eternity will be
enough time for you to realize it’s me you love.”
Fuck.
What’s in the needle?
He moves slightly and I blurt out my words. “I’m pregnant.”
His arm drops and I pull the trigger, firing a bullet into his shoulder.
“Goddammit!” he snarls. “You fucking shot me!” The needle clatters to
the floor and he stumbles back until he falls onto the bed with my sister’s
body.
 “Damn right.” I prowl toward him. With a crunch under my boot, I
stomp on the needle until it’s useless. He wasn’t getting off that easy.
“You’re pregnant?” His brown eyes glitter with emotion. “We made a
baby…?”
I snap a cuff on his wrist, and he doesn’t fight me. The bullet can’t
cause that much pain to a man like him, but my confession seems to have
stunned him. I click the other cuff into place around his left wrist before
shoving him onto the floor.
Benny’s gaze remains glued to mine despite being pushed off the bed.
Love shines in his hateful eyes. It’s a fucked up love…that’s for sure.
The door behind me clicks open, and soon, Dillon’s powerful presence
is behind me, cloaking me with his safety and warmth and assurance.
And his love.
Dillon’s love is real. It’s pure and unbreakable. The love Dillon and I
have is shared. It isn’t forced or one-sided. It’s ours and nobody will ever
take that away from us.
Especially not Benny.
“Our baby,” Benny murmurs, his eyes glazed over in pride.
Dillon places a strong hand on my shoulder and I give him a quick nod.
He sidesteps around me and retrieves my sister’s body. As soon as he’s
safely out of the cell, I glare at Benny.
“The baby isn’t yours, Benny,” I spit out. “Death can’t exist within life.
And no matter how many ways you try to snuff out my existence with your
monstrosities, you’ll never succeed. You belong in hell. Your time here on
earth is over. This baby is life. This baby is no part of you.”
Benny gapes at me from the floor as if I’ve cut his black heart straight
from his chest. With my gun trained on Benny, I back out of the cell. Once
the door is shut and locked into place, Dillon presses a kiss to my head.
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I’ve got this.”
“I know you do,” he murmurs before stalking off to leave me to my
vengeance. This is my closure. My motherfucking happy ending.
Benny seems to snap out of his daze. His body tenses and the
atmosphere around us heats like the devil himself has come to visit. Good.
He needs to take this fucker back to where he belongs. “You’re lying.”
I glare at him as he struggles in his cuffs. With his injured shoulder, he
struggles to get back up to his feet. “Let me fucking go,” he growls out his
order. “Now!”
 The laugh that escapes me is a crazed one, much like my sister’s. “You
have no power. I’m going to leave you to rot here. Just like you did to us. I
hope the stench of my baby sister’s blood haunts you until you die of
starvation.”
He tugs again at the cuffs and growls, “Let me fucking go.” I don’t even
flinch when he charges the door, throwing his body against it. It doesn’t
move. I know this because I was a prisoner in my own cell for four years.
These doors are impenetrable. “I said let me go!”
“You never let me go,” I remind him. “Goodbye, Benny.”
I exit the house, ignoring his shouts for freedom. I hope the maggots eat
him alive. By the time I make it outside, I see Dillon has placed Macy’s
body on the grass.
“Will you take Jasmine to the hospital and get her checked over?” he
asks before pulling me against him in a brief hug. “I’ll bring Macy’s body.”
He has his own unfinished business here and doesn’t want Jasmine to
witness it.
I tilt my chin up and regard the beautiful man in the moonlight. My
partner both in and out of crime. My vengeance seeker. My rock.
His lips press against mine and I let him devour me. Our kiss is needy
and quick, but satisfying nonetheless. Eventually, he breaks away and steps
backwards. “Go, baby. I’ll meet you there”
I give him a small smile before dutifully starting toward his car, tugging
the wire he put on me from my chest. I’m almost there when he calls out to
me.
“Jade…”
I turn and regard him. He’s magnetic and the urge to run back into his
arms is strong.
“Why did you tell him you’re pregnant? That wasn’t part of our plan.”
Our plan, once I got a hold of Benny, was for me go in as bait and for
Dillon to back me up. We followed the plan to the letter. Aside from my
pregnancy mention.
“I needed to improvise,” I tell him with a shrug.
His brow lifts in disbelief. Always a damn detective, that one. “Was it
true? Are you really pregnant?”
I chew at my bottom lip and cradle my waist, unable to find the words.
If he knew I was pregnant, he would never have allowed me to come here.
“Jade…” His tone is firmer.
 I frown at him. “Maryann said with the timeline it can’t be Benny’s,
but…” I trail off, tears welling in my eyes, “but I still need to be sure.”
Scrubbing his hands down his face, he shrugs his shoulders and stalks
over to me. Before I can take another breath, his arms are around me and
he’s lifting me from my feet.
“Babe,” he murmurs against my hair, “we’re in this together.” The firm
tone in which he says it has me relaxing just a bit. “I can practically hear
those gears turning in your head. No matter what. Together, okay?”
I sob into his neck and squeeze onto him for dear life. “Together.”
After a long hug where he manages to piece every shattered piece of me
back together in one embrace, he finally lets me go.
But not for long.
Never for long.

“I got a call from Benny telling me to come find her. When I arrived,
Jasmine was outside in the woods and the house was burning,” I lie to
Marcus as we stand in the hallway at the hospital.
He knows I’m lying too. His brows lift skeptically, but then he smiles
and nods his head. “Okay. Good enough for me. Vandals always set fire to
places like this. I’ll have a fire truck check it out when I get back to the
precinct. No rush.”
My heart warms.
“How is she?” he asks, nodding to the room where Jasmine is being
examined.
“She will need time and some therapy, but us girls are resilient,” I
assure him. “She’ll come out of this okay.” Because she has an uncle and
grandmother who love her and will do anything to ensure she recovers from
this.
Dillon joins me an hour later reeking of smoke even though he’s
changed his clothes.
“You should go shower,” I warn him when I hug him. “Did everything
go okay?”
 Marcus is scribbling notes on a pad so he’s not paying attention to us.
“I parked the squad car Benny had been using a mile up from here,”
Dillon whispers. “Your sister’s body is in the back seat so they’ll find her.”
He rubs at my arms. “How are you dealing with all of this? It’s so much,
Jade. You’ve lost so much.”
I’ve lost everything. But I’ve also gained so much too. Dillon. Our
baby. Happiness.
And knowing that Macy can have some peace at last is a blessing as
well. Locking her away would have been cruel. It wasn’t her fault that she
ended up the way she did.
“I’m going to be okay,” I assure him with a smile. It’s genuine and feels
right on my lips. “Let’s go get the ultrasound, Dillon.”
He palms my cheeks and stares down at me. Love shines beautifully in
his brown eyes. “I told you it doesn’t matter about the timeline. We’re a
family, no matter what.”
I nod and my smile falters. “No matter what,” I agree, even though my
heart rate spikes at the possibility that the baby could be Benny’s.
“Call me when the doctor finishes up,” Dillon orders to Marcus. “My
mother is in there with her, but keep an eye on them until I get back. We
cool?”
Marcus smirks. “Cool as a cucumber, man.”

Maryann meets us outside her office. She’s been closed for a few days, but I
called her from the hospital and she was willing to do this for us. She’d
been extremely helpful with the investigation and even begged to speak to
the girls he had raped and abused to tell them she was sorry for not knowing
what a monster her husband was. She held blame, which was misplaced.
Hopefully after some counseling she would heal and that would pass.
“Have you been taking your vitamins?” she asks as we enter.
“I think she has enough on her plate,” Dillon starts.
“Of course,” she says, embarrassment turning her cheeks pink. “This
can wait, Jade. We can do it another day if you prefer.”
 “No. I want to do this. I’m ready to do the ultrasound.” I swallow and
then meet Dillon’s stare.
“Are you sure?” His eyebrows pull together in concern.
“I need to know one way or another.” My mind reels. What if it’s not
Dillon’s or Benny’s? What if it’s Bo’s baby? Suddenly, I feel like a careless
whore.
No, I hadn’t been with Bo in ages. It’s not his. That much I’m sure of.
“Babe,” he murmurs as Maryann gets her equipment set up. “This baby
is ours.” The assuring tone in which he says it has me calming. “I can see
those wheels turning in your head. No matter what. Ours. Partners,
remember?”
Another tear streaks down my cheek. Stupid emotions! All I can
manage is a nod.
This man. My partner. My lover and my friend. He holds my hand for
the next twenty minutes while Maryann shows me I’m indeed pregnant. She
stands behind her original statement of the timeline not being possible for
Benny fathering and I can’t help but be thankful. She takes measurements
and points out all the tiny parts. It looks like a kidney bean.
“It measures four to five weeks.” She smiles, and Dillon squeezes my
hand. “You should really start using that moisturizer now like we discussed.
I’ll run to my office and get you a prescription for the sickness you’ve been
suffering as well.” She removes her equipment and covers me up. “I’ll be
right back with some brochures and some vitamin samples. Go ahead and
get dressed.”
She shuffles out of the room and I look down at the pictures.
Baby Phillips.
The tiny typed words above the pictures make my heart swell. And with
it, a strong desire to protect what’s mine washes over me. I may not have
been able to protect myself, and I certainly couldn’t protect my sister, but
I’ll be damned if I don’t protect this baby.
“This is a good thing,” Dillon assures me before stealing a kiss. “We’re
a good thing.”
My eyes shimmer with unshed emotion. “We’re better than a good
thing. We’re the best thing.”
He flashes me a panty-melting grin and winks. “Damn right, Detective.
And don’t you forget it.”
 I tug at his arm until he’s within kissing distance. “I might need help
remembering,” I tease with a grin.
His fingers spear into my hair on either side of my head and he growls.
“I’m going to help you remember all night long,” he warns in a playful tone
as his lips brush against mine, “the moment we get back home.”
Home.
Such a foreign concept.
I’m no longer a pretty lost doll.
I am found.
Dillon found me.
And together, we’re going to be okay.

OceanofPDF.com
Jade
Three years later…

I STARE UP AT THE charred frame of the house that held me prisoner for so
long. Coming back here every year has become a tradition for me, just to
remind myself of everything I’ve lived through. To see what I survived. To
recognize how far I’ve come. I’m able to acknowledge not only everything
I lost, but also what I’ve gained since.
Children.
A husband.
An actual happy life filled with love and laughter.
Marcus “forgot” to call the fire department that fateful day and the fire
eventually burned itself out. Benny’s body will never be discovered and he
gets to rot in the ashes of his own creation until the end of eternity.
A smile plays at my lips.
My hand rubs over the small bump on my stomach. I’d never really
thought about kids before Dillon, but now our MJ is two and we’re giving
her a sibling. Parenthood came natural to us both. Fear and doubt stayed
with me right through the pregnancy, but when I held our daughter in my
arms for the first time, I knew I would give the earth and the moon to make
sure I was a good mom.
A shudder ripples through me, stealing my smile, so fierce and sudden.
No matter how much time passes and no matter how many times I tell
myself he is gone, I still feel as though his eyes are on me whenever we
come here. That will probably never leave me.
I’ll always be vigilant.
For my children. For my husband. For me.
Monsters lurk everywhere, I’m no stranger to that fact.
 The horn honks through the trees, startling me. Dillon is just beyond the
overgrown shrubbery waiting. I carefully make my way through the brush
until our car comes back into view.
His perfect smile beams through the window at me, brilliant and
brighter than the sunshiny day we’re experiencing. I climb into my seat on
the passenger side and his warmth immediately cocoons me.
MJ sits in her car seat playing with a doll, her dark brown hair pulled
into two cute pigtails. When she grins at me, my heart melts. She looks just
like Dillon.
“Another new toy?” I scold upon seeing her clutching her newest prize.
Dillon’s hands rise in the air in surrender when I shoot him a glare. He
spoils her rotten. “Not me. I thought you bought it.”
We both crane our necks to regard our daughter who’s smiling back at
us. Her brown eyes that match Dillon’s perfectly twinkle with delight.
“Baby sings,” she says, and then squeals. “Baby sings.” With a gleam in
her eyes, she squeezes the doll’s tummy.
Music fills the car as the dolly does, in fact, sing. “Miss Polly had a
dolly who was sick, sick, sick.”

THE END

OceanofPDF.com
 Listen on Spotify here.

Heathens by Twenty One Pilots

Run, Run, Run by Tokio Hotel
Everything In Its Right Place by Radiohead
Afraid by The Neighbourhood
Bloodstream by Stateless
Obsession (Cover) by Golden State
The Monster by Eminem
We’re In This Together by Nine Inch Nails
Heart Heart Head by Meg Myers
Tainted Love by Marilyn Manson
Last Goodbye by Jeff Buckley
Oh My by Big Wreck
Black Sun by Death Cab for Cutie
Crazy In Love by Eminem
Bennie and the Jets by Elton John
Freak on a Leash by Korn
Way Down We Go by Kaleo
Testosterone by Bush

OceanofPDF.com
What a ride this story has been. Working with Webster has been so much
fun, we push each other and inspire creativity within each other. At points I
swear our brains became one. I’d like to thank Kristi for coming on board
and developing these amazing characters with me, we make quite the team.

Our readers have to be the best there is, your love and passion, excitement,
generosity knows no bounds. YOU ARE INCREDIBLE.

K&K’s Dolly’s became such a fun, energetic group. Your theories were so
much fun to read and your appetite for this story was astonishing. Thank
you for joining us on this journey we couldn’t do it with out you all.

To both mine and Webster’s girls who get our names out there, you don’t
know how much we adore you guys, you’re selfless in a greedy, scary
world and that’s inspiring.

All the amazing bloggers who share, read, promote for us. THANK YOU!
You are what keep the indie world moving, thriving.

Terrie my PA. I couldn’t be me without her. Thanks for always having my

back.

Nicky Price. What a little gem you are. I feel so blessed to have you, thank
you for keeping our DarKER Souls entertained while I’m lost in the cave.

Kirsty Moseley. My days aren’t complete without an inbox moan with you
hehe!
Monica, my editor, BOOM! We got there. Thank you for falling asleep at
your desk.

Stacey Blake. You are one of a kind. You never fail me, despite my shitty
ability to schedule.

My family. I love you! You give up your Mum and Wife so the voices
inside can be heard.

LINKS
Amazon.com/Kerdukey

Authorkerdukey.com
Facebook

Contact me here
Ker: Kerryduke34@gmail.com
Ker’s PA : terriesin@gmail.com

Titles by Ker include:

Empathy series
Empathy
Desolate
Vacant
Deadly

The Deception series

FaCade
Cadence
Beneath Innocence - Novella

The Broken Series

 The Broken
The Broken Parts Of Us
The Broken Tethers That Bind Us – Novella
The Broken Forever - Novella

The Men By Numbers Series

Ten
Six

Drawn to you series

Drawn to you
Lines Drawn – coming soon.

The Bad Blood Series

The Beats In Rift

Standalone novels:

My soul Keeper
Lost
I see you

OceanofPDF.com
A huge thank you to Ker Dukey for continuing this journey with me. You
understand the darkness inside of me and like the little monster you are, you
feed it. It’s a greedy little thing and you’re so very giving. What a wicked
little team we make! You’re amazing, my dear!

Thank you to my husband, Matt. You’re always there to love and support
me. I can’t thank you enough. I’ll be your pretty little doll until the end of
time…and sometimes I’ll even be your dirty little doll.

A huge thanks to Elizabeth Clinton and Ella Stewart. Thank you always
being so supportive and quick to read my stuff no matter what. You are
great friends!

Thank you to Sunny Borek…you always support my dark adventures and

love my bad guys!

I want to thank the people who either beta read this book or proofed it early.
You all gave me great feedback and the support I needed to carry on. You
all give me helpful ideas to make my stories better and give me incredible
encouragement. I appreciate all of your comments and suggestions.

Also, I want to thank Vanessa Renee Place for dropping everything to read
this book and watch for any last minute mistakes. You have no idea how
much that means to me. Thank you!

A big thank you to my author friends who have given me your friendship
and your support. You have no idea how much that means to me.
Thank you to all of my blogger friends both big and small that go above and
beyond to always share my stuff. You all rock! #AllBlogsMatter

I’m especially thankful for my Krazy for K Webster’s Books reader group.
You ladies are wonderful with your support and friendship. Each and every
single one of you is amazingly supportive and caring. I love that we can all
be weird page sniffers together.

I am totally thankful for my author group, the COPA gals, for being there
when I need to take a load off and whine. Y’all rock!

A huge thanks to Monica with Word Nerd Editing for taking care of another
one of our precious dolly books and making it as perfect as it could be!

Thank you Stacey Blake for making this book GORGEOUS like always!
Love you!

A big thanks to my PR gal, Nicole Blanchard. You are fabulous at what you
do and keep me on track! Also a big thanks to the ladies over at The Hype
PR!

Lastly but certainly not least of all, thank you to all of the wonderful readers
out there that are willing to hear my stories and enjoy my characters like I
do. It means the world to me!

OceanofPDF.com
 Books by Author K Webster

THE BREAKING THE RULES SERIES:

Broken (Book 1)
Wrong (Book 2)
Scarred (Book 3)
Mistake (Book 4)
Crushed (Book 5 – a novella)

THE VEGAS ACES SERIES:

Rock Country (Book 1)
Rock Heart (Book 2)
Rock Bottom (Book 3)

THE BECOMING HER SERIES:

Becoming Lady Thomas (Book 1)
Becoming Countess Dumont (Book 2)
Becoming Mrs. Benedict (Book 3)

Alpha & Omega Duet:

Alpha & Omega
Omega & Love

WAR & PEACE SERIES:

This is War, Baby
This is Love, Baby
This Isn’t Over, Baby
This Isn’t You, Baby

STANDALONE NOVELS
Apartment 2B
Love and Law
Moth to a Flame
 Erased
The Road Back to Us
Give Me Yesterday
Running Free
Dirty Ugly Toy
Zeke’s Eden
Sweet Jayne
Untimely You
Mad Sea
Pretty Stolen Dolls
Blue Hill Blood by Elizabeth Gray

OceanofPDF.com
K Webster is the author of dozens of romance books in many different
genres including contemporary romance, historical romance, paranormal
romance, dark romance, romantic suspense, and erotic romance. When not
spending time with her husband of thirteen years and two adorable children,
she’s active on social media connecting with her readers.

Her other passions besides writing include reading and graphic design. K
can always be found in front of her computer chasing her next idea and
taking action. She looks forward to the day when she will see one of her
titles on the big screen.

Join K Webster’s newsletter to receive a couple of updates a month on new

releases and exclusive content. To join, all you need to do is go here.

Facebook
Blog
Twitter
Email
Goodreads
Instagram

OceanofPDF.com