Pretty Stolen Dolls (15 page)

I
T’S BEEN THREE DAYS
since Bo left me and he’s been ignoring my texts checking in on him, so that means I’ve been flying solo. It’s hard to believe, but a sense of relief has settled over me. The fact that I am relieved that my boyfriend isn’t curled up against me says a lot about my fucked up head.
And our fucked up relationship.

Being alone without Bo’s watchful eye has enabled me to go through the old case files. To pace around the living room when my anxiety wouldn’t allow me to sleep.

I was free to think about Macy.

I may have peace where my home life is concerned, but I’ve been obsessing in a whole new fashion. I’ve been glued to my laptop searching. Always searching.

With my feet propped up on the coffee table, I scroll through yet another local doll making supply store. Benny was always so particular about the eyelashes and hair he purchased for the dolls. I learned this from when I ruined one of them and he bellowed, pacing my cell the next day, talking about how hard it would be to get the correct color to repair the patches I’d made.

Pretty hair for my pretty dolls.

Believe it or not, there are entire websites dedicated to doll hair alone. I’ve spent the better part of two days searching for ones within the vicinity of where they found me.

Earlier, while in the shower, I wondered about Benny. Would he truly leave his house and come for me? The thought of my sister all alone is too much to bear. I spent a good hour crying in the shower.

A sudden rap on my door jerks me to attention. I look down at my camisole and tiny shorts—not necessarily door answering material.

Maybe it’s Bo.

Guilt sluices through me and carries me to my front door. I have a practiced apology on my lips when I fling it open. A dark shadow of a man stands on the shadowed entrance this man taller and broader than Bo. Without thinking, I bolt from the door toward my bedroom where I keep a Glock in my nightstand for emergencies. Chief took my department issued piece, but I’d be a fool not to protect myself.

As I run down my hallway, the front door slams and heavy footsteps thunder after me. I’m bent over, dragging my gun from the drawer, when a strong arm hooks my waist. I turn feral in his grip and claw at him the moment the gun slips from my hand. He forces me onto the bed, pinning both wrists to the sheets.

“Calm the fuck down, Jade.”

Breathe.

I stop struggling and get lost in the chocolate eyes I hadn’t seen in a few days.

Dillon.

“I thought you were…” I trail off, my voice hoarse.

“Him?”

Nodding, I take stock in the way he feels pressed against me, his powerful hips crushing my own. His grip on my wrists is painful and I know I’ll be sporting bruises for days.

You’re used to it. Benny would bruise you in the bed all the time, dirty little doll.

I squeeze my eyes shut and attempt to drive the madness out of my head. “I’m sorry I tried to kill you,” I blurt.

Dillon chuckles, but doesn’t release me. It causes his body to brush closer to mine and my nipples peak in reaction. When I reopen my eyes, he’s staring at me with a look I’ve never seen from him before.

Want.

I think that’s what the swirling in his eyes means, the heating of his cheeks and tongue darting out to dampen his bottom lip.

“Station’s been lonely without you.”

Still, he doesn’t move.

Heat trickles just below my skin and I roll my eyes. “Nobody misses me there. They all hate the crazy girl.”

He frowns as his eyes drop to my lips once again. It makes my heart thump loudly in my chest. “I missed you.”

My mouth parts open in shock. Before I can reply, he lets me go and stands back up. I’m sprawled out on my back, my chest heaving and forbidden desire whirling through my veins. He skims his gaze over my breasts before giving a slight shake of his head, as if to clear it.

“Get dressed,” he barks as he storms from the room. “I’m taking you to put some meat on that bony body of yours.”

As soon as he leaves, I look down at my taut belly and hard nipples tenting the fabric. The camisole had ridden up, revealing my stomach flesh to him. A ripple of excitement courses through me.

Wait—did he say food?

I attempt to remember the last time I actually ate something and for the life of me, I can’t recall. All those years in Benny’s attic taught me how to survive on the bare minimum. Poor Bo thought it was his duty to keep me fed.

But Bo left you.

And now Dillon is going to feed you.

This time, I don’t push away the shameful thoughts.

I enjoy each and every one of them as I dress.

I have an obsession with burgers. I squeeze the bun, spilling the oils and cheese out the side before stretching my mouth so wide, there’s a slight sting in the corners, and devour each and every bite.

“Hungry?” Dillon muses, pushing his bowl of fries toward me. I help myself to one and dip it in my shake before shoveling it past my lips.

“It’s not going anywhere,” he says with a warm, deep laugh. “I can order you more.”

“Benny fed us oatmeal and slop,” I blurt, open and carefree.

Why was I letting my truth out? I didn’t tell anyone this stuff. Not Bo. Not my parents. Not anyone.

“Is that all?” He tilts his head to the side, studying me.

Is that all?
I have to hold in my disgusted laugh. We weren’t at fucking Disney camp.

“He was an appalling host,” I mutter, stealing more of his fries.

“I’ve wanted to call you.”

I pick up my shake and slurp on the straw, ignoring the stupid flip my heart just did.

“Really?” I smile behind the cup.

Pulling something from the bag he brought in the restaurant with him, he slides a document to me.

“The clothes on the doll.”

My head swims as I pick up the piece of paper.

“They had your sister’s DNA on them.”

I drop it like it’s on fire and stand abruptly, knocking the remainder of my shake to the floor. It seeps out, cold and unstoppable.

Just like Benny.

Macy.

The waitress hurries over, but Dillon puts his hand up to stop her approach.

“Blood?”

I’m dying inside. I left her. He killed her because of me.

“No,” he assures and stands, taking my hand. “I promise. No blood. Everything is going to be okay, Jade. I swear it.”

“It’s not, though,” I whisper.

Nothing is okay. Nothing will ever be okay.

“It was saliva and a hair.”

I read the files of our case once I made it on the force. They had taken our hair and toothbrushes twelve years ago when the investigation got underway.

“It’s a message,” I choke, dropping back into the seat to stop myself from falling.

“He’s been dormant as far as we know for the past eight years,” he says. “What do you think could have caused the change?”

My head battles with my memories. All those years we were there and he killed until he thought I was ready for…

“She turned twenty-one a month ago,” I murmur, the words feeling sticky in my mouth.

He stares at me, but I can’t look him in the eye. “What does that mean? Why is that relevant?”

Crying, in the dead of night from Macy’s cell, jerks me awake. Benny went to bed after leaving my cell and all has been quiet, so I know it’s not because of him. Ever since he scarred Macy’s face, he gets enraged when he looks at her, blames her for her new look and then punishes her with his belt. His fist. His hate.

“Jade,” she whimpers. “Jade, I’m bleeding.”

Rushing to the door, I place my hand there, dreaming of the day when our palms will touch again.

“Shhh, Macy,” I urge, terrified she’ll wake him.

He became angry with us talking one time and did the unthinkable. After binding us, he sewed our lips shut. I remember the way the needle burned as it tore through my flesh with such precision. After the first couple holes, I was numb to the pain—officially checked out mentally. The pain was crippling, but it was the scars that worried me most. He already treated Macy badly because of what he’d done to her face once before. I worried it would leave scars and he wouldn’t want us anymore—that we’d finally be disposable to him. But Benny was an expert with a needle and thread and a few weeks later, the tiny holes healed over with the cream he put on them. Rubbing my finger over my lip, I shudder as I think of all the horrors we’ve faced while under his lock and key.

“I’m bleeding,” she sobs, and my entire body quivers with fear—fear he’ll wake and punish his disobedient little dolls. In my peripheral, I see her hand push through her bars.

“Where?”

“Between my legs,” she hisses. “Am I dying, Jade?”

My heart breaks in two. Mom never had “the talk” with her about periods. She was too young at the time.

“It just means you’re becoming a woman now,” I assure her, trying distractedly to keep the wobble out of my voice. “It will be okay. I promise.” Another promise I can’t keep.

“A woman?”

“Yes. It happens to all girls eventually.”

“Did it happen to you?” She hiccups and sniffles.

“Yes.”

“So, I’m like you now?”

“Yes.”

“Will Benjamin do those things to me now…the ones that make you happy?”

Happy? Shame marinates in my soul.

Will he?

“I’m not a pervert,” he barks, interrupting our exchange. Turning on his cot and getting to his feet, his cold eyes find mine.

He stomps toward us and she whimpers with each step.

“You don’t even have tits,” he remarks, disgust in his clipped tone. “What have I told you about talking to each other?” Anger rolls just under his surface. I can almost see the steam coming off his skin. Like a demon straight from hell.

Looking in her cell, he tuts, “Look at that mess.”

“Leave her alone, you asshole,” I scream, rattling the bars like a trapped chimp.

His attention scans over to me and his feet carry him to my cell. “What?”

“Don’t be a pervert, Benny,” I growl, goading him. His eyes spark and he digs into his pocket, pulling out the key to my door. The door swings open and he takes a menacing step toward my retreating form.

“She’s just a little girl.” I shake my head in repulsion and his head jerks like I hit him.

“I wouldn’t touch her like that,” he snaps, his tone defensive. “I’m not a pervert.”

Shaking my head, I snort. “You touched
me
like that.”

“You’re twenty-one,” he barks in argument, smacking at his head with the palm of his hand.

“No, I’m not,” I seethe. He squeezes his eyes shut and then springs them open, the pupils swallowing the dim color. “You look like you are,” he growls, glaring at me. “I’m not a fucking pervert!” he bellows again. The monster of my world stomps toward me and swings his fist, connecting with my jaw. The impact takes me clean off my feet and I hit the cold floor with a thud.

Pain blazes through me, but I don’t have time to register where before his boot collides with my ribs and a sickening crack steals my breath. He drags me to my feet while I desperately gasp for air.

“No more,” I wheeze.

I’m thrown to the bed, my body crumbling across it like a rag doll dropped from the hand of a spoiled child.

“I’m not a pervert,” he hisses against the shell of my ear. The weight of his body suffocates me. My lungs roar for air and I gasp in broken puffs, getting nothing. His cock is inside me a moment later and his body thrusts against me, hard and feral.

“I’m not a pervert,” he chants as he rapes me. I’m dying beneath him. Darkness fogs my eyes and my head spins. “Only you, little doll. I don’t need another.”

Gasp…gasp…nothing.

I wake on my bed, bandages wrapped around my abdomen and an ice pack on my face.

He didn’t take me
again,
until my face was pretty
again.