Page 41 of Jester

THORN

Hawthorne Baxter/Sergeant-at-Arms

Ayear ago, I visitedPrimrose, Texas, to learn what I could about the people hunting Giselle. I got some information from a pretty, young brunette named Eliza. As soon as she spilled the truth about the evil fucks—the self-dubbed Black Gold Four—in this place, I knew I would come back one day to help burn down their sick setup.

These days, Giselle is a mommy. Eliza’s hooked up with one of my club brothers and is carrying Penthouse’s giant son. The Black Gold Four are down to two assholes, their armed security, and the remaining victims imprisoned inside Reinhart’s lavish estate.

This mission is run by Luca. No one remembers to call the vigilante by her old lady name “Angel Eyes.” All the new old ladies just go by their normal names.

I bet it was the same way back in the founders’ days. Even the club guys take a while to adjust to their road names. My road name is so close to my real name, it was an easy slide from one to the other. However, I remember calling Ghost by the name Jesse for years after we were patched in to the club. Change doesn’t come easily.

And I figure it won’t be any easier for the freed “Dolls.”

The young women are likely the daughters of the men who run the Black Gold Four. It’s not clear if the Dolls are blood-related or were bought by the rich assholes. Each of the Dolls has a role. Giselle was the ballerina. She still dances in that tippy-toe way when a song hits her right. Even with her amnesia, she can’t forget her training.

The other Dolls play other roles. One of them is the jock. Based on what Eliza and our inside guy shared, this chick is a true believer and keeps the other girls in line. She’s been especially vigilant since Giselle escaped. No way can we bring her back to the Sanctuary.

I’m not expecting to run into her while my team moves through the estate from the east doorway. Behind me, Puppet, Neon, and Vegas stick to the training they got from Luca. Her plan for the estate attack is solid, but there are plenty of variables, like this chick dressed as a tennis player and swinging a racket at my head.

I don’t want to punch this woman. She’s a sex slave, trained from childhood to satisfy the needs of her deviant father and his pervert friends. They mixed their training with religious garbage about God’s wrath for those girls who disobey. This jock chick isn’t the bad guy.

But I’m not letting her fuck up this mission. That’s why I knock the racket from her hand and spin her around to avoid her kicks. Wrapping her up in my arms, I cover her mouth. Vegas looks around the supply room we’re standing in and grabs binds used to tie down tarps. With Puppet’s help, they wrap her wrists and ankles. Neon gives my hand a break from the chick’s bites by shoving a handkerchief in her mouth to keep her quiet.

The jock thrashes on the floor, nearly choking on the fabric. I fish out a sedative shot provided by club ally Doctor Sal Perez. He figured we might need it for the two unhelpful Dolls.

Soon, the jock is quiet, allowing me to adjust the cloth in her mouth so she doesn’t choke.

“We need to get moving,” I tell the men before signaling for Puppet to stay with the jock.

My team keeps moving through the house until we meet up with Luca and Ghost in a main hall. They send us toward the dance hall where our inside guy claims to have the other Dolls ready to roll.

Led by the butler, I enter the room with my rifle raised and my finger resting on the trigger. No matter how well things have gone, I don’t trust what we’ll find.

Two groups stand in the large open room. On one side is the staff with their luggage. On the other side, the Dolls are dressed as their characters and carry nothing. I assume they don’t own anything. When Giselle arrived a year ago, she wore brand-new clothes she bought from a retail store on her way from Primrose to Metamora.

My gaze washes over the Dolls—the schoolgirl, the cheerleader, the princess, the cowgirl, the Alice in Wonderland, the baby doll, and even a Harley Quinn. In the corner, tied up and sedated, is the angel.

“We are ready,” Theo tells me, looking sweaty in his full butler getup, complete with a black bowtie. “The jock ran off before we could drug her.”

“We found her. She’s sleeping now.”

“They won’t be killed, will they?” he asks, seeming torn between submissive and worried.

“We’ll leave them outside of town where they can find help. It’s up to them to ask it,” I explain before asking, “Are these all the Dolls?”

“Yes, the last master is in New Zealand. He went alone. We haven’t heard from him in weeks.”

My gaze lingers on the cheerleader in her pigtails, a short, navy-blue skirt, and a gold, blue, and white tank top with “Black Gold Four” printed across the front. Pom-poms are tied to her wrists.

The cheerleader’s eyes remind me of Giselle’s. In one of Theo’s messages, he mentioned she had a sister.

Apex has said more than once how his woman doesn’t remember who she left behind, but she still feels like she was supposed to save them. I look at the cheerleader and imagine the sisters hatching a plan for one of them to escape and send help for the others. Now, they’ll be reunited.

---