Pretty Stolen Dolls (18 page)

Cold realization showers over me and I fall into his chair at the table. We’re going to investigate our only lead the day after tomorrow, which means we need to do more research. Tomorrow, I’ll need to study the different exits of the craft fair and other vendors. We certainly don’t need to be laid up in bed, no matter how good that sounds right now.

Macy is still out there.

Sex with this god of a man can most definitely wait.

It has to.

There’s only one man I can focus on right now.

Benny.

Bloated and blurry eyed, my head lulls to the side and I jerk, catching myself. The chuckle from Dillon draws my eyes. He’s on his second beer and I’ve lost count of his number of slices of pizza. One beer and two slices has me ready for bed, but I refuse to give in.

“You should get an early night,” he suggests, but I shake my head and wave my finger back over the icon on my laptop.

“I’m good.”

I search Google Maps for the hundredth time around the area I was found. It’s just trees for miles and then some private land with nothing on it.

“I’ll be visiting my mom and Jasmine tomorrow,” Dillon announces.

My eyes lift from the screen to eye his over the top.

“It’s why I don’t work weekends,” he explains, a sheepish smile on his handsome face. Guilt infects me for always bitching at him about being a typical nine to fiver.

He places his bottle down on the table and grabs a new one, holding it up to me. I shake my head no and he leans back, holding me in his intense gaze. “I’m all they have. My dad passed away a year ago and my mom took it hard.” His brow furrows and he looks intently at the bottle in his hand, mindlessly peeling the sticker from it. “I like to do things with Jasmine—make up for her not having parents to do that stuff with her. My mom’s amazing, but she’s getting older now and needs the break.”

I still can’t believe I used to think he was an asshole for not working weekends. I’m officially a major bitch. He’s wonderful and I’m the asshole for not seeing it sooner. I’ve had my blinders on for far too long.

“That’s a great thing, Dillon,” I tell him with a smile. “She’s lucky to have you.” It’s all I can do to stop myself from throwing my laptop down and darting across the room so I can straddle him like he’s a mechanical bull and I need to hold on for dear life.

“If you don’t want to be alone, you could come.”

His body coils tight and the veins in his arms bulge, making my mouth water. The tick in his jaw shows how tense he is, but I’m unclear whether it’s because he wants me to go or he’s only asking out of pity.

“I actually visit my parents on Sundays,” I tell him, and he doesn’t question the lie.

The last place I want to go is back there, especially with Bo holed up next door with his folks.

Nodding his head once firmly, he tips the bottle to his lips and picks up the file he was looking over. I lower my eyes back to the laptop screen, hating the silence that’s descended upon us. My eyes grow heavy as the screen burns my retinas, and then I’m drifting.

Something is wrong. Benny keeps looking at us in our cells while pacing. Nerves eat away at my insides with every urgent peek he takes.

“Did you drink your water?” he barks at me.

“Yes,” I lie, and he studies me with those hollow eyes.

“You’re lying to me,” he snarls, his eyes narrowing.

“Why do you care whether I’ve drank anything?” I smart mouth, and then swallow as the fight in me ebbs with every ragged breath he takes.

“You little cunt.”

A gasp explodes from my chest as my feet retreat to the corner of the room.

Clank.

No…

“You think you can defy me?” he roars, stepping inside my hell with me. “Where is the bottle?”

Why the hell is he so furious? I just wanted to save the water. My eyes flick to the pillow he allowed me to have and then back to him. A flash in his eyes and the curling of his lips tells me he saw my not so subtle look.

He marches over and throws my pillow from the bed, grabbing the bottle. “Come here.”

“No.”

He spins so fast, it makes me dizzy. Marching over to where I’m huddled in the corner, he grabs me around the throat. On instinct, my hands claw at his wrist as I try in vain to loosen his hold.

“Dirty little defiant doll,” he growls, scraping my back across the wall, causing a sharp burn to ignite the skin.

“Fuck you,” I snarl, pulling all the saliva from my mouth and spitting it at him. There’s nothing he can do to me that he hasn’t already done apart from killing me. And at this point, I think I’d welcome it.

A flare of pain explodes in my ankle as his foot collides with mine with such force, my legs part. If it weren’t for him holding me up, I’d have dropped into the splits.

Before I can truly register the pain, he sneers at me. “No, fuck you.”

He wiggles the water bottle before making a vulgar show of sucking on the screwed on cap. Then, with a brutal shove, he begins penetrating my body with it. It’s too big for my small opening and doesn’t go in far, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. Over and over again. A relentless stabbing attempt to shove the plastic into my body.

Pain burns and rips at every nerve ending there, but I’m powerless to end it and my screams are muted by the tightening of his hand around my throat.

“You got something to say now?” he mocks, finally jerking it out of me.

Warm liquid runs down my leg and he brings the bloody bottle to his mouth. I want to die. Just kill me already!

He unscrews the lid with his teeth and shoves the bottle against my lips, pouring the contents into my mouth.

Copper-tinged water cascades over my lips and tongue, but his hold prevents it from going down my gullet. I choke and gurgle and spit the water everywhere.

Ding-dong.

My eyes flare wide and his mimic mine.

Someone’s here? That was a doorbell?

My mouth opens wide as adrenaline pumps through me. Bringing my head toward his, he bares his teeth at me before he fires it back and my skull connects with the wall, stealing my consciousness.

Everything is black.

My eyes open and everything is black. There’s nothing but darkness all around and a heavy weight rests on top of me.

No! No! No!

“
No…no!
” I battle the suffocation, kicking and writhing, and then a flash of light burns my eyes as Dillon’s voice penetrates the fear.

“It’s okay,” he says in a soothing tone. “You’re safe.”

Pushing the heavy weight to the floor, I jump to my feet, panting and looking down at the enemy.

It’s a quilt. It’s just a freaking quilt.

“You fell asleep. I moved you to your bed and found something to cover you up with,” he says, his voice calm, holding his hands up in surrender.

Damn, I’m a mess. He must think I’m crazy.

My heart rate slows and I swipe the sweat from my forehead. “I’m sorry,” I choke out, a sob lodged in my throat.

All the insecurities, all the abuse, all the tough cop act I put on everyday floods from me like a virus sweating itself from the body.

All the pent up fear and agony seeps out and I gasp for air, for something to ground me. Dillon’s hot palm engulfs mine and I’m pulled into his body as his arms snake around me, pinning me to him. His scent envelops me and I suck to inhale it, to cover myself in him, inside and out—to erase Benny and the dream.

You dreamed of him
.

Something passes between us in this moment. It’s not a partner comforting a partner. It’s not a friend soothing a friend. It’s another human sharing your pain, understanding the silent moments as well as the loud ones. It’s two souls touching the essence of each other. It’s a man holding a woman and showing her it’s okay to break because he will keep her together until she can do it for herself.

I come undone in this moment, and he lets me, taking all my anger, fear, and pain into himself.

“We’ll catch him and end this for you. I promise,” he repeats with more conviction than I’ve ever heard before, from anyone.

Lifting me on to the bed, he cradles me and we fall asleep cocooned together. For the first time in my life, I feel truly safe.

“
I
’M GLAD YOU CAME
again.” This woman with her fish tank office decoration and pantsuit scrutinizes me with narrowed blue eyes. “Please, have a seat when you’re ready.”

I run my fingers over the back of the brown sofa and the soft leather feels cool on my fingertips. “How old are you?”

She frowns and it makes her look much older. “Is age important to you? How old are you?”

Ignoring her question, I make my way over to the strange cucumber water. It reminds me of something a girl and her dollies would have at a tea party like the ones we used to have with our mother. I pour the chilly liquid into a glass and take a small sip.

“Do you have any friends?” she questions.

I sneak a peek at her. Her finger grips the pen she uses for her device and her bushy eyebrow lifts nearly to her hairline.

A sad sigh escapes me. “Not many,” I admit. “But I don’t want any.”