Dirty Girls

by Lily White

  “Why?”

  “Because I was scared. I left because what you did to Becky scared the crap out of me. She could have been killed.”

  The honesty of my answer must have surprised him. Loosening his fingers from my wrist, he didn’t fully let me go, but he was no longer trapping the bones together either.

  For a second, I thought he would release me entirely, but then he moved suddenly, my other wrist caught by his free hand before he shoved both my arms above my head and pinned me in place.

  Our bodies were flush against each other for only a moment before he shifted again and his knees were straddling my hips.

  The nerves inside me came to life, a buzz of heady anticipation overtaking every sensible brain cell I had left.

  Soren was dangerous in many ways, but I was powerless to fight when he was so close I could practically taste him.

  Running the tip of his nose up the line of my jaw, he pressed soft lips against my ear.

  “Are you scared now?”

  Of losing my mind to this moment? You better fucking believe I was.

  Although, in truth, I knew he’d stolen my mind long ago. My ability to process rational thought. The last defense I had inside that enabled me to stay away despite the warnings from Nolan and everyone else.

  “Yes.”

  He grinned against my cheek. “Do you want me to stop?”

  Breath rushed over my lips, my heart thudding painfully beneath my ribs. “No.”

  A low groan sounded in his throat, his eyes closing slowly before opening again to trap me in their dark hold. Voice barely a whisper, Soren’s thumb swept down the inside of my wrist where he held my arms pinned.

  “I’ve tried to forget about you. For years, I’ve tried not to see you. But you kept showing up at the wrong times, kept saying the most annoying things. You were aggravating when you were young, Olly, but then you got older and...”

  His lips came together, the thought left unfinished. To look at his face you would think he was in pain...or fighting some internal battle I wasn’t sure I understood.

  “I was drunk the first time I had you.”

  Nodding my head, I blinked. “I know.”

  The corner of his lips curved up. “I’m sober now.”

  “I know.”

  Soren’s forehead pressed against mine, our gazes locked together so tight I couldn’t look away if I tried.

  “Fuck it...” he finally said just before his mouth crashed against mine, his tongue sweeping out to steal my breath. His hands locked down on my wrists while he kissed me as if I were some forbidden fruit, a delicacy he should never have allowed himself to taste.

  Pinned by his body, I was helpless to move or resist, not that I thought I would because all I had needed since the moment I first learned what it meant to truly want somebody was this man, this kiss, this heat that only Soren could give.

  It was stupid of me to want somebody who would never be tamed, who would never settle down or want me the same way, but for a moment I could pretend that what was occurring inside of me was the same for him.

  Even if I knew it wasn’t.

  I was fifteen-year-old Olive again taking advantage, but the guilt wasn’t as heavy now because Soren wasn’t drinking so he had to be thinking straight.

  He was, wasn’t he?

  There was no way to be sure.

  It didn’t matter, regardless. We were here. This was happening. And there was no way in hell I would stop him from taking every piece of me that he wanted.

  Maybe Calvin was right to call us all dirty girls, because here I was happily rolling in the mud right beside them.

  Breaking the kiss, Soren spoke against my lips.

  “What are you thinking?”

  Damn him, even in this he wouldn’t let me keep anything from him.

  “That if you stop, I’ll scream.”

  Lips curling against mine in a smirk that was pure danger, he answered me with the same soft voice I’d used on him. “Good. I was thinking the same.”

  He released my arms, but only long enough to rip my shirt up and toss it away, my breasts bared to him as he trapped my wrists above my head with one hand and leaned down to flick his tongue over my nipple.

  God, how I just wanted to rip and scratch at him like the war this was, but I was nothing more than a puppet bound with strings as he played my body expertly in his bid to force me to submit.

  In many ways, I’d dared him to do his worst - through my defiance, my refusal, my unwillingness to do as I was told. And here he was ready to string me up and wave me around like the victory that I was.

  His mouth closed over the tip of my breast, teeth teasing, tongue swirling, body grinding against mine until I was ready to give up my soul just to follow him into his personal Hell.

  It didn’t matter that he was dragging me down with him, not at that moment. I would have run or skipped, shimmied, or crawled on my damn belly if it meant he wouldn’t stop this seductive torture.

  Soren’s free hand dragged down my body exploring me without any concern what it was doing to me. My hips bucked toward him, begging, but he shoved them down as a warning that this dance was his alone and I was merely along for the ride, a captive to be tormented in all the ways he wanted.

  Fingers played over the thin fabric of my panties, taunting me with the threat of what it would feel like when he finally lost control.

  Thankfully, the moment didn’t take long. A low growl vibrated his chest, and my panties were stripped down my legs and forgotten, his hand cupping me as one long finger slid inside.

  Writhing against his palm, I needed more than he was giving, but his quiet laughter told me this was still just a game, one he would win when all was said and done and I was left breathless to wonder.

  I stilled in place when his hooded eyes caught mine, his lips slightly parted, his tongue peeking out for the tip to run across them.

  “You’re sure about this?”

  One nod of my head was all the permission he needed.

  Soren released my wrists with one hand while yanking at the back of his shirt to pull it over his head. His jeans were lost next, boxer briefs falling to the floor beside them.

  He moved to kneel between my legs, his hands directing my feet to his shoulders as he pushed up until my knees were practically at my ears and his mouth feasted on me, forcing a moan to escape my throat.

  Tongue dipping inside me before swirling around my clit, Soren drove me to a space where I was floating, every muscle taut in expectation of release.

  But just before I was shoved head first over that precipice between pleasure and pain, he pulled away, his eyes burning my skin like fire as he grabbed his jeans again to pull out a condom.

  When he pushed inside me in one, punishing thrust, I lost the will to fight him, my resistance gone.

  Hips dancing between my legs, Soren took every part of me, stole every breath, torturing every inch of skin as his body moved to control mine.

  My head fell back as an orgasm burst through me, tearing and shredding every ounce of decency I had left. Muscles shaking, my mouth opened on his name, but he just kept on taking, kept on dancing, kept on dominating this wicked dance until shoving inside so deep that there wasn’t one part of me he hadn’t tasted.

  Sweaty and breathless, our bodies came together his mouth finding mine on a long, lingering kiss.

  When my heartbeat had returned to a normal rhythm, guilt reappeared to waltz in.

  Apparently I wasn’t alone in that.

  “Fuck,” he hissed against my cheek. “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  Confusion moved in to take up court, and it felt like I was tumbling down into an abyss.

  Without another word, Soren pushed away from me, refusing to meet my eyes again as he got dressed and stormed out.

  Fuck is right, I thought.

  It shouldn’t have happened...again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jonah

  Maia’s body
had barely been in the ground two weeks before another body was discovered. By the state of decomposition reported, the new victim had been dumped near the left bank of Grey Lake a week before being found. For once, Simon had called me to report the discovery, and I had driven to the scene with the fear it would be Olive’s body left to rot.

  Pulling up to a small park with yellow police tape surrounding it, I stepped out into the cold night, the blue lights of police cars flashing through the branches above me while the full moon vied for the spotlight.

  A bird called in the distance and I wondered when it would be smart enough to fly off for the winter.

  We were a week away from Thanksgiving. Snow had already fallen in a few remote places, but had melted again with the warmth of the following days.

  Soon, the landscape would be covered with the thick blanket of winter, possibly hiding any bodies we may have missed.

  Rounding a corner and moving past uniformed officers searching a small playground with flashlights, I walked down a narrow trail that led to a cabin. A large sign was hung above the door that read Closed for the Winter, but promised they’d be open again when spring was in the air.

  This was a summer camp for young children from what I could tell, a place where they could learn how to fish and rowboats, where they could ride ponies or explore hiking trails. My father never sent us to a place like this when I was young, choosing instead to take me to the station where I was introduced to the worst the world had to offer.

  “About time you got here. Did we wake you up from your beauty sleep?”

  I glanced around but didn’t immediately see a body.

  “Where is she?”

  Simon’s eyes met mine, his mouth turning down into a scowl.

  “You may want to prepare yourself for this one. It’s not pretty.”

  “Are they ever?” I asked, not expecting an answer.

  Leading me around the building with only a small flashlight to light the way, Simon stepped over a large root sticking out of the ground.

  “Watch where you walk. They haven’t brought the floodlights yet to reveal the full site, so not all the evidence had been flagged.”

  Careful to step in his prints so as not to disturb anything additional, I looked up to see a barn a few yards in front of us.

  “Who found her?”

  “A caretaker of the property. He comes out two or three times a week to make sure nothing was damaged during storms and to ensure no break-ins occurred or vandalism. He also tends the grounds. Mows the lawn, crap like that.”

  Two uniformed officers blocked the doorway leading into the barn. Seeing us approach, one nodded his head and moved aside, pulling the door open with him.

  The scent of death assaulted me immediately. It’s a pungent smell, one that, once you’ve experienced it for the first time, you never forget. Simon’s face twisted in response to the odor, but he trudged ahead regardless with me trailing at his back.

  Except for a scene technician doing her best to flag evidence in a nine hundred square foot building with only a flashlight in her hand and the three naked bulbs swinging above our heads, nobody was in the building.

  “She’s just around this corner.”

  I followed Simon into what appeared to be a utility area tucked behind several stalls I assumed contained horses during the months the camp was open.

  What I saw when the body came into view froze me in my tracks. Simon took one look at me and grunted in agreement. “I told you this one would be bad.”

  Sitting atop a riding lawn mower was the decomposing body of a naked young woman. Her hands were tucked between her legs and her body bent forward, mouth open and placed over something foreign sticking up from the mower.

  Around her, hair was strewn about like hay, the mutilation to her body confined to her back where the word whore had been carved into her skin deep enough to reveal the vertebrae of her spine where the letters crossed over.

  Like the others, her body was clean except for the makeup applied to her face.

  Still at a distance, I couldn’t identify what was used to prop up her head or hold her in place on the lawn mower seat.

  “Let me know when your initial shock has dwindled,” Simon said, his shoulder brushing mine. “Then I’ll fill you in on the finer details you haven’t seen yet. I’d hate to hit you with it all at once.”

  Squaring my shoulders, I took a steadying breath. “What am I not seeing?”

  “She’s been impaled.”

  My eyes narrowed on the body, and I thought perhaps the lighting had caused me to miss a hole through her skin.

  Simon elbowed me in the side and popped a thumb up. “Vertically,” he explained. “It’s what’s holding her on the mower.”

  “That’s new,” I groaned, understanding sinking in as to how a dead body was sitting.

  “It gets worse.”

  I didn’t want to know, but in this career, I couldn’t avoid the full picture.

  “The object in her mouth is a female sex toy. The base of it is glued to the mower.”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake...

  Just when you think a monster has reached his limit, he turns around and does something like this to teach you there is no true limit to depravity. Not in this world. Not when you think all the possible horrors have been done, yet humanity somehow continues to create more of them.

  More technicians arrived and busied themselves setting up the larger floodlights to illuminate the full scene.

  While they flagged evidence and the photographer began the grueling task of documenting everything in its original place, I walked the grounds with Simon ensuring there was nothing left to be found.

  “Do you recognize who she is?”

  Simon nodded. “Another one of Soren’s group. Her name is Camilla Hughes. We haven’t notified her family yet, so I’m not sure when she was last seen, but I suspect it will follow the usual timeline.”

  Reaching the banks of Grey Lake, I stared out over the still, dark water. Across the way, it appeared as if nothing but forest bared witness to the crimes that dotted the area, but I knew large cabins were hidden amongst the trees, their lights off because summer had ended long ago.

  I’d helped search the area for any hint that the cabins were being used to hold the girls following their abductions, but nothing was amiss.

  Simon cleared his throat next to me. “Did you happen to recognize the name of this camp when you came in?”

  “I did.”

  In the distance, an animal howled, its call that of loneliness or hunger.

  “Soren’s sister died here.”

  “That’s right. Damn near where we’re standing.”

  Simon turned left to point toward a thick patch of tall grass that was rising about the water, the stalks brown following the first winter frost.

  “Somewhere over there, if I remember correctly. The old file wasn’t entirely clear and it’s been years since it happened. The landscape may have changed since then. But the players haven’t.”

  No, they hadn’t. After Calvin told me about the little girl who died, Simon and I both learned as much as we could about the incident.

  The full story wasn’t entirely clear, but we knew the names of the children who had been there the day Emily Callahan died, the four girls who had stood on the banks and witnessed the drowning.

  Teagan McKay.

  Maia Forbes.

  Elizabeth Banks.

  And Camilla Hughes.

  Three were now dead. The last living on the east coast where she attended college.

  Per the incident files, there was a question of whether Emily’s death was a result of bullying. Whether it was a result of four girls who were a year older daring Emily to swim too far for her ability, her death accidental when she attempted to prove her worth.

  Simon twisted around to stare at me. “Still think this has nothing to do with Soren?”

  I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets, finally resigned to the fact that m
aybe Simon hadn’t been chasing the wrong trail after all.

  “He may be involved.”

  Triumph shone in Simon’s expression.

  “But I’m beginning to think this is more than one person. The staging of Camilla’s body would be difficult with two hands alone.”

  Walking to stand next to me, Simon joined me in looking out over the placid waters of the lake.

  “Maybe we’re both right. Soren Callahan. Grady Ayers. Quinton Conley. And Nolan Reid. They could all be in this together.”

  “What is the point of the makeup?” I asked, more to myself than Simon.

  “Who the hell knows?”

  Blowing out a breath, he eyed the scene around us, frustration curling his fingers into his palms.

  “Maybe they’re trying to throw us off, or it’s just another way to embarrass the victim.”

  My stomach sank at the thought. This wasn’t just the taking of a life. This was cruelty beyond the norm. Hatred. Disregard. A taunting prank that had gone too far.

  And standing amongst the wolves was a lamb waiting to be led to slaughter.

  “I need you to do me a favor, Simon. As quickly as possible.”

  Turning to me, he cocked a brow in question.

  “Call your brother. Tell him Camilla has been found and that there’s more than one person behind this.” I paused before adding, “Make sure he warns Olive Reid.”

  Confusion twisted his expression. “Why?”

  Muscles tense, I blew out a frustrated breath.

  “Because if this is Soren Callahan and his friends, I have no doubt they’ve targeted Olive. And given the timeline, they’re most likely circling their wagons now with a new victim in mind.”

  “But she’s Nolan’s sister. And she wasn’t part of the group that bullied Emily.”

  That may have been true at one time, but once a person finds joy in taking the life of another, there was nothing in the world that would stop them from chasing that high again.

  My thoughts went to the night I dropped her off at the convenience store, to the night Soren’s friends had hunted her down like they owned her.

  “I’m not sure that matters anymore.”

  Cursing beneath his breath, Simon understood immediately. “Son of a bitch…”