Page 66 of Dolly

“That might be a good place, right? If they were able to use it to lure you in, it’s probably not used.”

“We’ll go there first, check it out before we head to Romero’s house.”

“You left everything behind at Cathy’s. When do we know if you can trust Pierce or not?” I hop onto the bed and pull my feet up, tucking them beneath me. I grabbed a pair of leggings when we got up to the room. I don’t think I’ll wear dresses anymore. Well…unless Ken wants me to. I like looking pretty for him.

“Soon,” he says, then leans over to click the television on. “We’ll just watch for the news and we’ll find out.”

“You trust the news? Don’t the police like to tell them what they can and can’t say?”

He sighs. “That would be a hell of a lot easier, but no. Cops can’t completely control the news. If a journalist starts gnawing on a bone, we don’t have much power to stop them.”

I tap my fingertips against my chin. “Do you miss it? Being a cop? Won’t you miss it?”

He raises his brows, like he hasn’t truly considered the topic yet.

“I don’t think they’ll let you go back to work,” I whisper when he keeps silent.

“No.” He laughs. “I don’t think so either—and I don’t think I’ll miss it. Cops have rules they have to follow, there are boundaries they can’t cross.” He gets up from his chair and joins me on the bed. “I don’t have those ties on me now. I see something, and I can take care of it.”

“Doesn’t that make us vigilantes? Aren’t vigilantes bad?”

“Bad?” He scoffs at the notion. “We aren’t bad, Dolly. The people we’ve taken down are bad. Evil. The courts could have taken years to take care of them, and most of them would have been out on bail while it was all sorted. They wouldn’t have stopped.” He brushes hair from my face. “But we stopped them.”

“We did.” I lean toward him, kissing his cheek. “Can we go check out the warehouse? Maybe we can set up early.”

He laughs. “So eager.” He squeezes my knee. “Okay. We’ll check the news, get our stuff, and head to the warehouse as soon as the sun goes down.”

A quick glance out the window tells me I won’t have to wait too long, so I don’t argue.

He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer as the news flickers to life on the screen. If everything goes to plan, we will have taken out everyone who played a part in Ken’s abduction—his torture…and mine—tonight. Maybe not all of them—who knows how many people were involved during my life? Or how many more girls are out there, suffering the same way? Afraid and alone, wondering if there will be a day when it’s not like that. If there will be a day when they feel the warmth of the sun on their faces and have no chill creeping down their spine when someone calls their name.

I snuggle into Ken’s chest, ignoring the blabbering anchor.

“What’s wrong?” Ken asks, kissing the top of my head. He can be so gentle at times. It reminds me I’m not the warrior he is, but I won’t tell him that. He says I’m just as strong as him, if not more, but he can’t be right.

If I was stronger, I wouldn’t walk away from the rest of the girls out there. I would make plans to find them. I would save them. I would avenge them.

“Nothing,” I lie, not wanting to have this conversation yet. He could walk away from me, from everyone, and facing that right now is too hard. So, like the coward I am, I stay away from it.

* * *

George Romero livesin the swankiest town I’ve ever seen. I grew up in a good, safe neighborhood…well, as far as appearances went. But this area…they have spared no expense for the safety of their citizens.

We didn’t risk going through the front gates of the community, finding a spot down the street where we could see the cars coming and going. The deputy mayor is at home right now. Probably snuggled up with a brandy and a cigar. Searching the web for something depraved and sick to get his cock hard.

“There’s his car.” Ken turns down the radio and leans forward over the wheel of the truck.

“That’s a girl driving,” I say, squinting to see better.

“Fuck.” Ken throws the truck into gear and rolls out onto the street.

“What is it?” I ask after we’ve passed the gates.

“His fucking daughter is driving him.” He rakes a hand through his hair. This is a problem. I do not want her hurt. She’s an innocent, and I won’t be part of that.

“Do we turn back then?” I don’t want to wait any longer, but we might not have a chance tonight.

“No.” He turns at the next intersection, following three cars behind the black Lincoln. “We’ll see where she’s taking him. Maybe she’s just dropping him somewhere.”

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