Pretty Stolen Dolls (16 page)

“I was seventeen when he first raped me, but he always said I looked older and made an issue out of a girl lying about her age. I think he sees twenty-one as an acceptable age for sex. I was only seventeen, but I don’t think he could wait any longer.” I blink away the daze of my horrific memories and meet the pained eyes of my partner. His brows crash together as he attempts to make sense of that statement. “Something must have happened in his past that plagues him, although I never could figure it out.”

Dillon’s jaw ticks and he draws his hands into fists as barely contained rage courses through him. “He’s a fucking sick cunt. There’s no excuse for what he did.”

He’s angry for me. Bo was always sad for me. I’ve never had a warrior in my court before. Not like this.

Dragging my eyes from his furious ones, I dig my fingernails into the skin of my forearms as I hug them to me.

Breathe.

“You think he will move on to her now?”

Her scar flashes in my mind.

“Ruined, ruined doll.”

“Don’t hurt her,” I beg as I watch him get a dress ready for Macy.

“I’ll make her pretty, but she’ll never be perfect like you, dirty doll.”

“No,” I tell Dillon with conviction. “He would have waited for her to develop into a woman, but she still won’t be enough for him because of her scar.” My head shakes. “He’ll seek a new doll for sexual gratification. That’s what the other dolls were, the ones he killed. They were all older than us, and none were perfect enough.” I let out a long sigh.

Why hadn’t I put that together until now?

Because your head is fucked when it comes to him.

“So, we’re looking at a possible future abduction.” He glares at me. “And new murders if he doesn’t find one he likes.” He smashes a fist to the table, causing the dishes to rattle. “Fuck!”

“Or,” I whisper, mostly to myself, “he’s coming back for his dirty little doll.”

“Dirty little doll?” Dillon flinches as he repeats the words.

“Me.”

My bladder screams for relief. Giving in, I push the sheet away from my body and unwilling trudge to the bathroom. Raised voices alert me to more than just Dillon in my home. He brought me back here last night after I stormed out of the diner and insisted on getting drunk. We had no clues other than it being Macy’s DNA and I couldn’t deal with another night of pacing my place alone, so I drank until my legs felt weak and my heart didn’t feel as hollow.

Dillon insisted on spending the night on the couch and I was too far gone to argue.

Still groggy, I swipe my hair from my face and pull my door open, making my way toward the noise. When I reach the scene, my eyes bug out of my head.

Bo is pinned against my kitchen wall by Dillon, who’s in nothing but a fitted pair of black boxer shorts.

What the hell?

“How could you do this to us?” Bo shouts over the massive arm smashed against his chest.

Dillon lets out a growl.

“Nothing happened, Bo,” I huff, waving away his aggression as nonsense. “This is my partner.”

He laughs harshly, no humor present. “Jesus,” he seethes, “you expect me to believe that when you’re both practically fucking naked?”

My eyes lower to my unclothed form. Ever since my time with Benny, I’ve never been able to sleep with anything on. One pillow. A simple sheet. Bare. Just like I lived for four long years.

“It’s not what it—”

“I fucked someone too,” he blurts out, his tone scathing. He’s trying to hurt me. Sadly, it doesn’t like it should.

Relief.

“What?”

“Cindy, from my work. You know she’s been after me since forever. Well, I fucked her after I left here the other night.”

Cindy, ugh. She’s the one who tried to steal a kiss from him at midnight at the New Year’s Eve party last year. She’s slutty and cheap.

Who is this man?

This isn’t my devoted, doting Bo.

“You pushed me away,” he says defensively. “You drove me to it. I came here to confess and hopefully move past it, but you have him here already. Did you fuck him in our bed?”

“My bed, Bo,” I snap, but then soften my voice. I let tears form in my eyes as I speak words that will cut him. “And yes, I fucked him in my bed.”

Dirty little doll.

“On my couch. In my shower. And that wall.” I point to where he’s still pinned by Dillon. Dillon grunts and flicks his eyes over his shoulder at me in confusion.

I will miss Bo. Learning to cope alone will be a task, but we just aren’t supposed to be together. I’m toxic for him—stealing his hard earned happily ever after and drowning it in my dark past. Shit, Bo of all people cheated on me for God’s sake. Loyal Bo, cheated on me. I drove him to it. I’m a mess.

“I want the ring back,” he snarls, pushing at Dillon’s arm.

Dillon lets him go, but his body is still coiled and tense, eager to exact damage on Bo if he so much as looks at me wrong. When Bo starts toward me, Dillon shoves him out of the kitchen toward the front door. “Take it up with her over the phone. You’re done here today, buddy.”

“I want the goddamned ring back!”

I hold my hand up to calm him. Sadness picks away at my heart inside my chest. “You can have it. I’ll send it to your mother’s.”

Our eyes meet once more and his lip curls in disgust—disgust at what he thinks I did to him. I want him to think I cheated. It will help his heart move on from me. He deserves more than I could ever give him, but my heart still aches because I’m losing my closest friend. He helped get me where I am today.

The door closes with a slam and I’m left staring at a half-naked Dillon. His eyes unabashedly skim over my bare form, his cock, long and generous, thickening in his boxers as he takes me in.

I should cover myself, but I don’t.

Heat flushes my cheeks and causes my nipples to harden in response.

“We didn’t fuck,” he mutters, low and hoarse.

“I know,” I breathe, my chest betraying my lust with heavy pants.

Dillon’s gaze narrows, finally landing back on my face. “Put some fucking clothes on. We need to talk and I can’t do that with you standing there looking so goddamned tempting.”

Tempting?

I stare at him, dumfounded.

“Move your skinny little ass, Phillips,” Dillon barks, “or I’m going to be talking to you with my cock nine inches deep inside your hot little body.”

Nine?

I move my skinny little ass.

“
T
ALK
.”

I peek over at him as he stirs one spoonful too many for my liking of sugar into his coffee. When I don’t answer, he leans his hip against the kitchen counter and arches an eyebrow so I’ll unload on him.

Thank God he’s dressed.

And me too, for that matter.

My mind is still a jumbled mess at seeing my partner looking so…naked—so…alluring.

“Talk about what? About how I’m going to start pricking your finger to check your insulin levels while out in the field?” I say with a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.

He sets his coffee down on the counter and takes a step forward until he crowds me with his heat. I tear my gaze from his intense one, but it’s even worse staring at his solid chest through his white T-shirt while knowing how he looks underneath it. When I lift my eyes again, he smirks.

“Well, we should at least talk about this.”

I laugh and go to push him away. His pecks are so firm. “There is no this.” The man is like a brick pillar and doesn’t move. Instead, he cages me against the wall—the very wall I told Bo he fucked me against. With both palms pressed beside my head, he leans in, brushing his mouth against my ear.

“Not what you told your boyfriend.”

Swallowing, I attempt to push him from me, but again, he’s immovable. “I needed to cut him loose.” I feel like a bitch for saying the words. “It was a lie.”

Dillon brushes his lips against my earlobe and a delightful shiver ripples through me. “Doesn’t feel like a lie. Feels like a
this
, an us.”

A mewl escapes me, to which he chuckles.
Asshole.
“He deserves better,” I admit with a huff.

At this, Dillon becomes angry and pulls away to look at me. His face is furled into a scowl as he takes heavy breaths. “No, you deserve better. The motherfucker cheated on you at the first sign of trouble.”

Tears prick my eyes. “I drove him to it. Because of how I am.” My eyes fall to the floor in shame. I’ll never be one-hundred percent right in the head for any man. I will never be able to fully devote myself to anyone as long as my sister remains that sick fuck’s prisoner…and even then, am I too broken?

Strong fingers bite into my chin and my head is lifted. Dark, searing brown eyes pin me. “I’ve worked by your side for eight months, Jade. Eight goddamned months. You know what I saw?”

“A one-track minded bitch?” I laugh again, but my chest aches.

His eyes fall to my mouth briefly before lifting again. “I saw a good cop. Someone who, despite my ego, I fucking admired the hell out of. Someone who I wanted to protect because even though she was a hard ass, her eyes told otherwise. Not once did you look at any other man, even though they looked the hell out of you. You were faithful to that asshole and worked hard. He’s the one who let something perfect fall through his fingers.”

I gape at him, shocked by his words. “I, uh…” I stammer, “I’m not perfect.”

“Who the hell is? Sure as hell not me. Definitely not ex-boyfriend, Bo. Perfect is in the eye of the beholder, Jade. In the right person’s eyes, you’re
all kinds
of perfect.”

And that’s
all kinds
of beautiful.

Jesus, when did Dillon become so sweet? So hot? So swoonworthy?

“Why are you being nice to me?” I ask, embarrassed tears threatening to fall.

One slips out and he cradles my face with his large hand. With a swipe of his thumb, he dries the tear. “Because you deserve it. Because maybe
I
see the perfect,” he murmurs, his head dipping toward mine. “And for the first time in eight months, you let me in. I see you, Jade.”

But can you handle what you see, Dillon?

“I don’t like letting people in,” I admit in a whisper. “They don’t usually like what they see.”

His nose brushes against mine and my eyes flutter closed. “You let me in. I really like what I see, and I don’t plan on leaving any time soon.”

Warm, soft lips press against mine. So gentle. Such a stark contrast from the hard, brooding partner I’ve dealt with from nine to five each day. When a strong hand grips my hip, I let out a sigh. His mouth coaxes mine open and his tongue seeks mine out. He tastes sweet, like the sugar he so heavily consumes.

His kiss is dizzying, but I don’t want it to end. After the fallout with Bo, it’s nice to still feel wanted—despite my raging flaws. Tentatively, I run my palms up his hardened chest to his shoulders. He takes it as an invitation to kiss me deeper, a low groan escaping him. With each delve of his tongue into my mouth, I grow lightheaded. The prickles of his five o’clock shadow scratch at my flesh in a way Bo’s baby face never did. It feels different, and I like it—a lot. His kiss intoxicates me more so than Jack Daniels ever has.