“We can’t take too long,” I say firmly.
She frowns. “I know. Because he couldn’t last even a week without hurting someone.” She fists his hair, pulling his head back until he’s looking right at her.
“You made the perfect dolly,” he sneers. Apparently, he’s changing tactics. He won’t be begging for his life; he’ll be tempting her to end it quickly.
But Dolly isn’t stupid.
“I did everything hoping it would stop. But it never did. And never will so long as there are people like you out there.” She presses the tip of her knife to his chest.
“Yeah, you did. You took those cocks so good.” More taunting. I tighten my hands around the rope. If he hurts her, I’ll jerk him off his feet again and finish him myself.
Dolly studies his face, dragging the knife down his torso, over his rounded belly. His eyes clench shut, and his mouth screws up into a silent scream.
“I wanted to do so many things to you when I found you,” she says softly, plunging into his stomach.
Romero grunts, and she removes the knife.
“I had so many plans to make you hurt, make you squeal.” The knife pierces his abdomen again, and he cries out. “But then I saw Sarah and met your daughter. They’re more important than you.” She stabs his stomach again and again and again, until the front of her dress is covered in his lifeforce.
I hold tight to the rope as his wiggling continues. He can fight, but there’s nowhere to go.
He coughs and spits blood, but he’s still breathing.
She pulls his head back farther. Blood drips from the side of his mouth. His eyes are barely open, but she’s not finished with him.
“You don’t get to have another moment of my life.” She raises the knife to his throat and sticks the blade in the center of this throat.
Wet gurgling emits as he grapples for his last breaths. Dolly doesn’t release him until the sounds have long stopped and his body falls limp on the rope. She steps back, letting him flop forward when I release my end of the rope.
Silently, she stares at him, unmoving.
“Dolly—” I start in a whisper, but she holds up her hand.
“I think you can call me Abigail now, Brian.” She raises her chin and levels me with a soft smile.
Stepping over him, I grab ahold of her, pulling her to me. “Abigail,” I say her name, letting the flavor of it roll over my tongue.
“We need to get Sarah to a hospital. Call her parents. And Ella—” She wipes the back of her hand across her cheek. She’s crying. Silent tears that cleanse the dirt of the past from her. She’ll never be scrubbed of it all, but for the moment, for this moment where her tormentors are gone, she can bathe in a safety she has never fully known.
“They’ll be okay. C’mon. Let’s go.” With my arm draped over her shoulder, keeping her close to me, I bring her out of the room. Ella stands in the living room, her fingernail between her teeth. Sarah’s sitting on a rocking chair, the blanket held tightly around her.
“Is he—?” Ella asks.
“He can’t hurt you anymore,” I assure her.
“It’s my fault.” Ella’s shoulders slump, her eyebrows knitted with pained remorse.
“We need to get Sarah to a hospital.” Abigail brushes off Ella’s comment.
Red and blue lights flash through the front windows.
“What do we do?” Abigail asks, panic quickly rising.
I check the window, hoping they’re going to another house. No luck. Three squad cars pull up in front of the house. I look from Ella to Sarah to Abigail.
“We go.” I grab Dolly’s hand. “Ella, stay with Sarah. Be sure they take care of her, do you understand?”
“Y-Yes. I will. I promise,” Ella vows as I pull Abigail toward the back of the house.
“Brian. Wait.” Abigail yanks against me once we’re on the back porch.
“We don’t have time. We need to go. They’ll take Sarah and Ella to the hospital. They’ll find Romero. It’s fine, but we have to go or they’ll take us too.” If I don’t get her out of here right now, they’ll take her. I’ll lose her. She’ll be swallowed up by the system. Even if she’s never made to pay the price for what we’ve done, she’ll be gone from me. I won’t be able to find her again. It’s not fear, it’s fact burning in my gut.
She finally recognizes I’m not backing down and gives me the approving nod I love so much from her. She’s trusting me.
“We have to hurry.” I yank her harder, and we run through the yard. Bursting through the fence, we sprint for the truck.
As I maneuver the truck past the garage where Romero’s car is still parked, a dark figure steps into the alley. I don’t wait to identify him.
“Go!” Abigail cries out, and my foot slams on the gas pedal.
Twenty-Nine
ABIGAIL
Freedom I never dreamed to hold in my hands teeters before me. If I reach out far enough, I might push it away. If I try to grab hold, I could drop it and lose it forever.
“Abigail.” Brian stands behind me, placing his hands on my hips.
A gentle breeze runs off the lake and rushes over our faces. My hair blows wildly around me. The sun is high in the sky. Summer is finally here.
“It’s a bad idea,” I say after his fingers start to tighten on my waist.
“Okay. Why? Let’s list them.” He’s being reasonable. It’s a trait that irritates me sometimes, like when I just want my way without concession. But Brian is even more bossy than Ken ever was. It’s my biggest flaw that I love it.
I flip around, pressing my ass into the railing of the deck, and tilt my head so I can glare properly up at him. His hands move from my waist to gripping the rail, completely caging me in—a feeling that once shook the nightmares loose.
“He could arrest you.” I point out the obvious. Meeting with Pierce is a horrible idea if only for that reason alone. “He’s a cop. It’s his job to arrest the bad guys.”
“And you think we’re the bad guys?” Brian cocks his head.
“No. Of course not. But he does.”
Brian’s eyes narrow slightly. “Do you trust me, Abigail?”
“In the sense that when he arrests you, you won’t tell them where to find me? Yes.” I give a sharp nod.
The side of his mouth kicks up into a lazy grin. How can I concentrate on getting him to do what I want when he starts looking sexy and relaxed?
“In the sense that you trust my judgement.”
I groan. “Of course I do. But what if this is a trap? They’ve been looking for us for three months.” The wind blows my hair in front of my face, probably making me look a hell of a lot less fierce than I’m trying for at the moment.
“And they haven’t found us,” he points out. This pretty house on the lake isn’t traceable to either of us. As much as I wanted to flee, get out of the country altogether, Brian insisted we see how everything plays out. If the police won’t continue their investigations into the other girls, he promised me we can. So, I haven’t pushed him about heading south of the border.
“By luck, I’m sure.” I scoff.
“You doubt me so much already?” His eyes darken.
“No, of course not. But we can’t stay here forever. There’s no way Pierce just lets you walk out of that diner, never to search for us again. You heard the news. They haven’t given up.”
For the first month, we were the hot story—two vigilantes hunting down child rapists, a sex trafficking ring brought down by two of its victims. Hell, I think a few reporters wanted us to be caught just so they could get an exclusive. They haven’t painted us as horrible as I suspected they would, but it hasn’t exactly been favorable.
By the second month, with no leads to find us, the news reports lost most some interest, and now we’re a ten second spot once or twice a week. And the search continues for Abigail Johansen and Brian Morton is the extent of our story.
“This will end it, and then we can really be free. We can leave
or we can stay.” Brian lets go of the railing and cups my chin. “Our real life starts right after this meeting.”
“There’s enough money left from my dad’s closet for us to leave right now,” I argue. “We don’t have to talk to him. We don’t have to risk it.” Why can’t we just run away without chancing never seeing each other again?
“If we leave, we might not know if they are going to keep hunting down the other people involved. This was bigger than Bossman and Romero. Bigger than the department.”
He’s right, and there was a time I wanted to hunt down every last one of them to make them pay for what they did—what they are still doing. But do I now, when we’re so close to absolute freedom?
Brian’s waiting for me to say or do something. He’s waiting for me to mull everything over and come to the right conclusion. His conclusion, most likely. Bossy man.
“You’re going to go with or without my blessing.” I decide to stand neutral.
Both his eyebrows raise, and he lets go of my chin. “Yeah. I am.” He nods.
“Well.” I exaggerate a sigh. “I suppose we should get one more fuck in before you leave. After you meet him, you’ll be playing bitch to some big monster in prison.” I dance around him and run through the patio door into the bedroom, leaving him on the balcony.
“You think so, huh? You better be naked with your legs spread wide for me when I get in there.” It’s meant to be a threat, except nothing Brian does scares me. And he’s proven to be as dark and devious in bed as out of it.
I wiggle out of the tank top and shorts I’m wearing and toss them across the room before jumping onto the bed. I’m barely comfortable before his hulking body lands on top of me.
“One last fuck, huh?” He yanks my thighs apart. There’s a savage look about him when he gets like this. A primal energy surrounds him as he cups my ass, pulling me toward him. He’s already stripped, and his hard cock impales me in one movement.
I cry out, not because of the pain, but because of how easily he fulfills that need in me. How quickly the dueling demons in my soul settle when he takes everything over.
His mouth crushes mine, and I grab hold of him to keep him from pulling away. Urgency burns within me as he bucks forward again and again, driving hard into me.
He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t leave me. He trails kisses down my jaw.
“Abigail,” he growls, but it sounds like an accusation. “Fuck. Abigail.” He presses me hard into the mattress, pumping into me over and over. The springs squeak beneath us, the headboard hits the wall, but it’s just the music we dance to.
“Don’t.” I wrap my legs around his waist, stopping him from pulling away.
He laughs.
“You’re telling me no?” He tugs on my earlobe.
“No. I’m telling you don’t stop,” I correct him, though how I manage words when my breath is caught in my throat is unknown. “Don’t stop. Ever.”
He brings his gaze in line with mine, back to serious.
“I’ll never stop loving you, Abigail.” He hasn’t misunderstood my words; he just knows me better than myself sometimes. He’s more in tune with my heart.
I swallow back the rush of emotion. How do I respond without sounding silly? How can I ever make him understand the depth of my feelings?
“I swear it too,” I say softly. Not eloquent, but the truth.
He grabs ahold of my wrists, pinning them above me, and drives into my sex with all the force I can handle.
“This is our bond,” he says in his raspy voice, his breath hot against my ear.
“Together,” I moan, bucking my hips upward.
“Forever.”
As though the words stroke me better than his touch, my body lights up. Pulling my knees up and farther apart, he grinds his hips until I lose control. Nerves burst, screams erupt, lights flash, and while I’m in the midst of heaven, he pumps his cock faster and harder than before, bringing me away from the edge only to plummet me back. Only this time, he’s with me. Screaming his release in time with mine. We find our relief, we find our home, we find our love in each other.
Together.
Forever.
Thirty
BRIAN
Pierce sits in a corner booth, as far away from the entrance as he can get. I pick him out of the small crowd easily. He’s the only one in a suit.
When I pulled into the diner, I noticed the cars in the lot. It seems he came alone. My guard is still up, no matter what he promised on the call.
“Brian.” Pierce inclines his head as I approached the booth.
A waitress appears, a pot of coffee in hand. “Need a menu?” she asks while pouring me a cup.
“We’ll both have the BLT club,” Pierce says, handing her the oversized, laminated menu he had in front of him.
“Be out in a few minutes,” she says and disappears.
“Thanks for meeting me.” Pierce folds his hands on the tabletop and keeps his gaze locked on me.
I glance around the diner again, then out the window at the parking lot.
“No one but me. I swear.” He splays his hands out.
I roll my shoulders, but the tension doesn’t ease. If this goes south, Abigail is going to be on her own. She’s a strong woman, she can handle herself, but she shouldn’t have to. She’s had enough people in her life let her down. I won’t be like them.
“I was surprised when I heard you on the television.” Pierce had given an interview a few weeks back. He’d looked right in the camera and talked about needing to find Abigail to be sure she got the care she needed. He wanted to be sure she was safe after all the horrors she’s been through. Apparently, they’ve been watching the tapes.
Pierce isn’t dumb, at least not as stupid as I thought he was. He knew playing the Abigail card would get to me.
“I meant what I said. I do want to be sure she’s okay.” He looks away for a brief moment. “And you…the things…” He clears his throat.
“Yeah, we’ve been through some shit.” I save him from having to spell it out. Why should we both have the discomfort of my serial rape? I can’t muster the contempt maybe I should have for his discomfort. I wasn’t any different when I was the one on that side of the table. Thinking I had the answers, the right words to make the victim feel better. As though they could heal with a few well-placed syllables.
“Is she okay?”
“Where was this concern during the initial investigation?” I change the subject.
He blows out a low breath. “Todd did a fan-fucking-tastic job of derailing us. You were only there a day, and the day you were there wasn’t our best. We’d been combing through useless websites, reports, and pictures for months when you and Cathy showed up.”
“A cloud of smoke?”
He grimaced. “Yeah. Nothing worthwhile, nothing to help us find her or any of the girls.” He pauses. “But the stuff we have now is everything. We’ve already uncovered three girls. Found them still being held. They’ve been rescued.”
I should feel lighter at this news. It will definitely make Abigail happy, but I sense the dread coming. There’s another side to this coin.
“But…”
He shakes his head. “But the guy holding them—the fucker had all three.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. The weight of his job is crushing him. I wonder if he can see it as plainly as I do. I sure as hell didn’t realize it when I was in his position.
“He’s up there, right? Has connections in high places and probably won’t see so much as an interrogation room?” I fill in the blanks. The form hasn’t changed. Nothing’s fucking changed.
“Yeah.” Pierce sighs and drags his fingers through the thin strands of what’s left of his hair.
“Two BLTs and a side of fries.” The waitress shows up, sliding our plates in front of us. “Can I get you boys anything else?” she asks, wiping her hands on her faded brown apron.
“No thanks. We’re good.” Pierce forces a smile for her sake. I don’t both
er.
“Just holler if you need me,” she says, then heads back to the counter where two truckers are sipping coffee.
“You’re not here to arrest me then.” I pick up a fry and toss it in my mouth. Hot and salty. Fuck, it’s good.
Pierce sighs again. I can sense the turmoil within him.
“The lawful thing to do is bring your ass in—and Abigail. Hell, you both probably belong in a fucking psych ward. No jury will put you in prison, but they’ll be sure you get the help you need.”
I run my tongue over my teeth.
“You killed people, Brian. The way…” He huffs. “The way they were killed…I can’t—I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Dolly did most of the killing, but I’m not saying that out loud.
“Did any of them not deserve it?” I ask.
His eyes widen. “That doesn’t matter in the eyes of the law.”
I pop another fry in and chew slowly, nodding in agreement.
“You think I should sit in prison for killing men who have kidnapped, raped, and profited from raping girls for years.” I lean forward. “Not just these past few months, but years.”
Pierce doesn’t touch his food.
“No. I don’t. To be honest, I think you went easy on the sons of bitches.” His fingers play with the prongs on the fork sitting on the white paper napkin beside his lunch.
“Tell me about Sarah and Ella Romero.” I change the topic. Whatever Pierce brought me here for, it isn’t to arrest me and bring me home.
“The young girl is home with her parents. She had mostly superficial wounds, but she’ll be scarred for a long time. That fucker—” He bites down on his lip before continuing. “He carved his fucking initials into her ass. They’re going to do a skin graft to get it off. But the biggest hurdle isn’t physical.”
“I know.” And I do. Abigail and I both still bear the mark of Bossman on our bodies. A branding to know who we belonged to. For us, it’s a mark of who we were, where we rose up from. Abigail is making strides, but the memories haunt her, and there are moments where she’s quiet and huddled under the blankets, reliving her hell. I can’t always reach her when she goes back there, but I’m always waiting for her when she comes back.
DOLLY Page 17
