by Ker Dukey
Revenge.
She has no idea. Benny will find me. He won’t let this psycho take me…not when we just found each other. I know this with every part of my being. I feel it deep down in my soul.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” I whisper.
I can be a monster too. It’s in our DNA.
Benny
I MUCH PREFER THE NAME Viktor and feel closer to him now knowing his real name. I don’t know why it matters so much, but it does. It just fucking does.
Risking myself to free him from Dillon’s shackles was necessary to get the information about his tracking system.
Keep telling yourself that.
“Viktor?” I repeat after asking him what he picked up before the police took everything.
“It showed your sister’s home, but she can’t be there, and for us to go there is too risky.”
“We’re going,” I state.
What if she’s hiding in plain sight or at the neighbors? It’s a clever idea.
“Police will be there. It’s a crime scene,” he almost growls, and my dick twitches at the thought of him losing his cool.
I pull onto the street and point toward the house. “Two cars. Hardly a squad. They’re all too busy at your club.” I poke the angry bear, willing him to bite back.
His posture stiffens at the mention of The Vault, but he doesn’t take the bait.
“I am sorry this shit touched your club. I know how you feel about that place.” I contradict my actions with an apology to rock his equilibrium. It sounds sincere, but I’m anything but. I don’t actually give a shit about his fucking club or the idiots he caters to there. They tame themselves—hide their desires, their damage. Mine is worn like clothes. It’s who I am.
“I know you better than you think, friend. And you don’t care about such things.” Viktor smirks, tugging at the cuffs of his shirtsleeves. Well, damn. “I need to change.” He quivers. His disheveled appearance is wearing on him. If only he knew how good it looked on him, all roughed up and messy. Sometimes us monsters look better free. I’m not sure why he feels the need to contain himself.
“Look. That unit is leaving,” I point out as the uniformed officers retreat in their vehicle. “I’m going in.”
His hand grasps my forearm. “There’re still people in there.” A silhouette passes by the window. The heat from Viktor’s hold burns, and I’m still not sure how I feel about everything that’s transpired between us. It’s all hazy in my mind and I can’t focus on it right now. I need to find Bethany before that blonde whore does any more damage. I need in this house because there may be clues.
“It’s your turn to wait for me and save my ass if I get into trouble,” I jest, pushing the door open and climbing from the car.
I hear his door open and his footfalls fall in line next to mine as I cross the street.
“Waiting makes me anxious,” he retorts.
He doesn’t get anxious.
Creeping up against the side of the house, I peer into the window and see nothing.
“Go around the back. I’ll go in the front.”
“We shouldn’t separate,” he whisper-yells after me.
“God, more of you?” some asshole barks from the next door neighbor’s yard. “Are you going to be leaving at some point tonight?” He’s holding a trash bag in his hand and wearing shorts, socks, and flip flops with no shirt.
“Go back inside, sir,” Viktor instructs, authority in his tone—a tone he’s used on me more than once. “This is official police business.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. We’ve had you guys coming and going all day and night.”
His voice is getting louder and will eventually summon whoever is inside if he doesn’t shut the fuck up. Sensing my tense posture and glaring eyes, Viktor moves toward the man. I think he’s going to walk him inside. He surprises me though, and instead slips his hand into this jacket before launching toward the fuckwit.
Quick, powerful strikes of his wrists, a glint of metal from the car keys in his hand.
One, two, three, four, five, six.
And then he’s stepping around him and catching the falling form. Crimson rivers trickle from several little holes in the man’s side, a punctured lung so easy. Quick. Beautiful to watch.
The car keys dangle from Viktor’s finger, a piece of flesh skewed on the end. The strength he would have had to use is astounding, yet he made it look effortless.
He drags him behind some shrubbery and drops him without breaking a fucking sweat.
Who’s the monster now, Master?
He cracks his neck and brushes down the lapels of his jacket as the side of his mouth curls up. “He gives a whole new meaning to fashion to die for, or because of, in his case. No man should wear socks with flip flops.”
“No man should wear flip flops in general,” I retort, a smile tugging at my lips. I nod back toward the house. By some miracle, we haven’t raised attention. He disappears to the back as I creep up the front.
There are raised voices inside and what sounds like crying. It’s familiar.
Pretty new doll.
My feet move without permission, and the next thing I know, I’m inside. The heat of the house engulfs me as two sets of eyes spring to mine.
The sister, not my doll, screams and scurries from her seat toward Dillon’s partner.
“Don’t fucking move!” he warns, pulling a gun and aiming straight at me. My nerves are so fucking frayed from worrying about my doll, I’m becoming reckless.
Just as I’m trying to contemplate how I can get to him before he gets a shot off, Viktor appears in the doorway behind Elise. He lifts his brow at me and I can read all the words he’s not speaking, but conveying perfectly.
“Glad I came now, Monster?”
Fucking right I am. We make quite the team.
He wraps his large palm around my sister’s mouth from behind and pulls her body against his. She squirms and kicks back, but he subdues her easily. She’s no match for Viktor.
The cop trains his attention on them and I advance on him.
“Don’t fucking move,” he barks out again, flitting his gaze between the two beasts in the room with him.
“Drop the gun or I’ll snap her pretty little neck,” Viktor cautions, dropping his hand from her mouth to her neck and squeezing. She makes a weird wailing sound. It’s new to my ears and amusing. Her eyes widen and glass over with tears.
“Please don’t hurt me. I’m pregnant,” she chokes out, and the idiot holding the gun falters, giving me a chance to rush him. My fist collides with his jaw as my arm comes over his, trapping it and taking the gun from him. I smack him with the butt of it for good measure, and he drops like a sack of shit, keeping his unfocused gaze on my doll’s sister—my sister.
Viktor releases her and points to a chair. “Sit and don’t move. If you do, there will be no heartbeats left alive within these walls, let alone the tiny one in your womb.”
She’s shaking, scared of me—of the both of us—and it’s a turn-on. If I squint, she could almost pass for my doll. “Are you here for me?” she croaks, sniffling her snot back up her dripping nose.
Oh, wouldn’t you like that? To hold it over my precious new doll that I wanted you? Never, bitch.
“No. I’m here to find Bethany.”
Her brows pull together in confusion. Using the palm of her hand, she swipes up her nose, smearing tears and snot everywhere. Wasn’t she supposed to be the perfect one? All those people were blinded. They’d been too focused on this fraud when they had something beautiful and real right in front of their noses. My stunning Bethany.
“Who?” She sniffles again.
Viktor exhales hard and runs a hand through his hair. It’s become unruly from his day from hell. Very unlike him, but I like it this way. He’s coming apart at the seams, and I want to be the one to sew him back together. That’s what I do for my dolls. I stitch them back exactly the way I like them.
“He means Elizabeth.” He takes
a couple strides toward the bleeding son of a bitch on the ground. Dropping to his haunches, he pulls a tissue from a box on the table next to him and dabs at the cop’s lip. “You’re bleeding,” he taunts.
“What evidence did you find here?”
“Fuck you,” the idiot spits back.
Wagging his finger and tutting, Viktor stands. “You must be mistaken about the dynamics laid out before you, Detective Marcus James. You see, I know the fetus squirming inside her is yours, and if you don’t want me to fuck it out of her, replacing it with my own, you’ll show so goddamn respect. You hold no power here.”
The simmering rage bubbles within the marrow of Viktor’s bones, begging to be set free, and God, I want to be here for that show.
“Okay,” the cop exhales on a rugged breath. “What do you want?”
“What evidence was recovered here about Elizabeth’s disappearance?”
He gets himself into a sitting position, snatching the tissue from the hand Viktor offers to him and cleans himself off. “If you want to hide evidence, you’re too late. Everything has been photographed, bagged, and tagged.” He flexes his jaw, and I debate relieving him of it if he doesn’t prove useful soon. “Why did you take her, you sick prick?” he spits in my direction.
Why does everyone think I took her? They have no clue how devoted to me she was—is. I wouldn’t need to take her.
I aim his gun and fire. The sound ricochets through the room as the bullet lands with a juicy splat right in his thigh. The chorus of his cry of pain and my sister’s wail of fear, mixed with Viktor’s growl of annoyance, feeds the beast swimming under the skin I wear to contain it.
“We didn’t take Bethany, fuckhead,” I snarl. “Now, what evidence did you take from here? This is the last time I’m going to ask you. The next bullet goes in her.”
Her gasp echoes through her sobs. I won’t kill her, but a bullet to the arm never killed anyone. Or has it? No.
“Not Elizabeth. Josey.” He shakes his head. “You took her. Why?”
Oh, this fucking cop doll appears to be so popular today.
“Because I’m the fucking bad guy,” I sneer.
Moving toward him, I bend so I’m in his face.
“Rawwwwr,” I growl, mimicking something fierce like a bear or a goddamn dragon. This is getting tedious now. I’m getting bored of these games. The constant fucking circles. They know who I am, yet they all act shocked and appalled when I do bad things. Well, fuck them.
“Who’s the one holding the gun, asshole?” I question, my tone deadly. “It’s my turn for questions, not yours.” I tap the gun against his forehead, then move away from him.
“Did my dear friend just ask you a question?” Viktor pipes up, reminding the dumb cop he better start talking, quick.
His eyes dart between us and become glossy, the blood creating a crimson pool on the carpet beneath his leg. Slug went in deep. That’s going to leave a scar. Good.
“Nothing useful,” he answers, his voice sharp. “Some blood traces near the front door. A struggle took place. There was a tracking device left on the porch with a note.”
“What did the note say?” I demand.
“Revenge is best served in blood. Or something to that affect,” he wheezes, his lids lowering. Stay with us, fucker.
“To that affect or was that what it said?!”
“That’s what it said,” he grits out, and sways, the pain clearly making him woozy.
What the hell does that even fucking mean?
Who is she getting revenge on?
Is she using my doll to get to Viktor? But why? Maybe to turn me against him.
“Would she want payback for anything you’ve done?” I ask Viktor, suddenly twitchy at the thought I’m just a pawn in a bigger game.
Viktor rises to his full height. The atmosphere in the room heats, licking over us like the breath of a dragon waiting to take flight and destroy everything.
“I was loyal to Lucy and gave her more than anyone else ever had. There is absolutely nothing she would have a quarrel with me over, so stop looking your accusing glare this way and take a look in the mirror.” His tone is cold, dead. Pained.
Red and blue lights flash through the window. My paranoid thoughts took me hostage. I let the situation get beyond my control and acted erratically, shooting a weapon for all the neighbors to hear.
Viktor peeks through the curtains and curses.
“We don’t have time for this,” he snaps. “Let’s go.”
I follow him to the back entrance and stop in the doorway. “Maybe we should take her with us for leverage for after we give Dillon the cop doll,” I suggest.
A cracking resounds and two officers burst through the front door, guns raised.
“Shoot!” Dillon’s partner orders, and before I can get out the way, the sound of their guns discharging pops in the air like lightening. I’m moving, being dragged out of the line of fire and through the house out the back toward our car. I shoot a few rounds back at them, which makes them pause and take cover, giving us enough time to get inside the car and throttle the gas. The skidding of the rubber against asphalt sends smoke billowing—like we’re in some old school movie, bank robbers on a getaway. My adrenaline kicks in and I’m vibrating with excitement. Living on the edge is thrilling, and where I should be.
“What now?” I grin over to Viktor, and my smile fades. His features are pinched. My eyes drop to the arm hugging his side. Blood blooms over his shirt.
He’s been fucking hit.
No. I can’t lose him.
My gut clenches at my own thoughts. A sorrow seeps through me and I suddenly realize I care more about him than I ever thought.
I’d miss him.
Fuck.
Dillon
“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?” JADE hisses the moment I fall into a chair in the conference room where she’s camped out.
I avert my gaze from her concerned hazel eyes and stare at MJ who plays with her doll on the floor. She’s trying to feed it Goldfish and making an orange, crumbly mess all over the carpet. Jade, ever the good mom, will have this room tidied up and looking better than before by the time she leaves.
“Dillon. Answer me right now.”
I lift my head and meet her stare. My chest aches because I have to tell her. I have to tell her he’s alive. He’s real. He’s still haunting us, but in the flesh.
My poor, brave girl.
She’s going to freak the fuck out over this.
“Babe…” I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale loudly.
“Stay here with daddy,” Jade instructs to MJ in a faux cheery voice.
She disappears from the room without another word, and I chance a peek at my daughter. Today, Jade’s dressed her in a yellow dress that looks like it’s probably annoying my little tomboy. MJ has cheesy stains all down the front and her matching yellow bow has been pulled off. Her dark, silky waves hang in her face as she talks softly to her doll.
She’ll never be safe.
As long as Benny exists, my family will live in fear.
“Well, if it isn’t little MJ looking too cute in her pretty dress,” Edna from dispatch croons. “Aunty Edna has animal crackers for her favorite girl.”
The old woman waddles over to my daughter, and MJ abandons the doll to go hug one of the grandmotherly figures in her life. I’m still staring at them when Jade hisses at me.
“Up. Now. Come on.”
I groan as I stand. Jade walks with purpose and a strength only a woman who’s been through what she has could ever possess. Her ass is plump and bitable now that she’s big and pregnant with baby number two. I want to put a lot more babies in her, which means I need to fix this whole Benny shitstorm.
She guides me into the men’s restroom where a first aid kit sits on the counter, and I lock the door behind me. The last thing I need is anyone from the department knowing about what just went down with Benny and Harris. I need to figure out a plan of action. Protocol has to take a
backseat this one time.
“I can tell by the look on your face that whatever it is, it’s bad. I’m ready. Just tell me.” She sets to cleaning the blood from my neck as she waits.
“I just had an altercation with…him,” I say on a sigh. “Benny.”
She tenses and her brows furl together. “He’s dead.” Even though she’s speaking the words of denial, she knows it deep down. I told her we had suspicion that he wasn’t dead, but now we have actual visual confirmation. As if my words finally sink in, she curses. “Fuck!”
“He wants Elizabeth,” I grumble.
Fat tears well in her eyes as she roughly cleans my throat. I wince, but don’t tell her she’s not being gentle. Her head is elsewhere at the moment.
“He can’t have her,” she bites out as a tear rolls down her cheek. “He can’t have any of us.”
I reach up and swipe away the wetness with my thumb. “He has Josey.”
Her nostrils flare and she sniffles. “W-What?”
“And now he wants to bargain with her.” I grit my teeth. “He’ll give Josey back if we help him get Elizabeth.”
“I thought he was the one you thought had Elizabeth in the first place,” she cries out, dropping the soiled gauze.
I grip her jaw and plant a kiss on her trembling lips. “I’m going to fix everything. I’ll get them both back and make sure that fucker dies for real this time.”
“Who has her then?” she questions, steeling her voice as she goes back to unwrapping butterfly bandages.
“They think a woman named Lucy, an alias for Jessica Johnson, who worked with Harris, the owner of The Vault, who I went to bring in for questioning.”
Her eyes widen at the word “they,” and then again at the last part of my statement. My detective wife is smart. She can put together pieces of a puzzle quickly too.
“Benny and Harris are working together.” Not a question from her soft voice, a statement. “He’s been under our noses this entire time.” She frowns and looks up at me. “Why hasn’t he come after us?”
“Honestly, I don’t fucking know. But now, he seems to have his sights set on a new obsession,” I say, my head starting to fucking hurt.
