Jennie
..
..
"We've never celebrated Ms. Manoban's birthday before but Rich insists that it's today," Christine tells me as she pulls out of the garage.
I'm eager to get out and go to the grocery store with her for my own reasons. And knowing it's her birthday, I want to buy her a gift.
"Why do you sound stressed?" I question, smoothing still-wet tendrils of hair back into my bun, as she drives down the road. I think it's funny Lisa lets her drive this huge-ass Cadillac Escalade. Christine with her sweet disposition looks like she's a mafia mom or something.
She sighs. "She keeps to herself when it comes to her past. I want to make it special but I don't even know what cake she'd prefer."
I smile at her. It's sweet that she worries about something as simple as what cake Lisa'd like for her birthday.
The afternoon goes well, and if I didn't adore Christine before, I absolutely love her now. She's funny and spunky, filling a void in my heart that I hadn't realized just how much I'd missed. Christine is like a fun aunt who knows how to cook but can also shop like nobody's business. The woman dragged me through half of Seattle before we ended up at the grocery store—our original destination four hours later. I'd laughed when she'd bought Lisa all sorts of crap. Meanwhile, I'd bought her one gift. Simple and inexpensive. And perfect.
We'd decided on chocolate cake because I'd insisted. I didn't tell Christine I knew Lisa'd love it because she'd eaten chocolate syrup from my body like a hungry little bear in front of her friends not that long ago. The memory heats my neck and I think about making love to her in the pool. We'd done it once more in the shower after. And just like last night, she murmured that she loved me.
My heart thrums in my chest. Is Lisa really my happily ever after? Do I even deserve one after everything I've been through? Deep down, I know the answer is yes.
But then there's Mark.
Guilt twists in my gut. I'd love to forget Mark's promise to come back for me. To go on and enjoy my life with Lisa, pretending I never ran into him back in Vegas. Life could be perfect. I could settle and enjoy the peace I've longed for.
I'd tried to convince Lisa to sell the company. I hoped maybe I could be two steps ahead of Mark. By Lisa selling, the only operation that could be questionable in the eyes of the law would no longer be associated with her. Then, I could reveal to Lisa who my husband was—that it was him who'd beat me up back in Vegas. And she could keep me safe from him.
My heart sinks. Mark won't give up without a fight. He knows people and none of them are good. The truth of the matter is, I'd be a sitting duck.
I have to tell Lisa though. She's smart and fierce. Surely she could figure out a plan.
"Learn to drive, idiot," Christine gripes as she glances at the headlights in her mirror. It's dark now and they bounce wildly from behind us.
Turning in my seat, I'm alarmed to see the driver swerving erratically.
"Pull over and let him pass. He's probably drunk," I tell her.
She nods and starts to slow but he seems to speed up. Before I can warn her, he slams into the back of the Escalade.
"Shit! Go, Christine!"
She gasses it and we tear off down the dark highway. I'm surprised when she flies through the cars, weaving in and out like she was a Nascar driver in a past life. I turn in my seat again to see the car mimicking our actions.
"He's following us," I shout.
She guns it and soon whips off an exit I don't remember. We haul ass down some back roads and through a neighborhood. When we turn down a road with a few houses, she hits a button on the visor and I watch in shock as a garage opens. Even in the dark, I can tell the home is expensive—not quite as big as Lisa's but still nice. She whips into the two car garage and presses the button once more. When we're safe in the confines of the garage, she turns to me, her eyes wide.
"We need to call Ms. Manoban."
I nod and climb out of the Escalade. "Whose house is this?"
She smiles at me as she fishes her phone from her purse. "It's mine."
I gape at her but follow her inside. The décor reminds me of my home growing up. Despite it being an expensive home, her decorations are homey and old-fashioned.
"I thought you lived with Lisa."
"Sweetheart, I stay there when she needs me but when she's on business, I come home. That house is too big and lonely otherwise. In fact, we all go home. Dubois even has a home on Lake Sammamish too, though he prefers to rent it out. Besides, I think he loves being Ms. Manoban's shadow and typically goes with her on those out of town trips. Ms. Manoban purchased them all the year we started with her as a bonus if you will. The Escalade's mine too, compliments of our boss."
My brows are at my hairline. No wonder Lisa got pissed when I told her she doesn't pay them enough. She pays them too much. I think back to the white Porsche Cayenne of Bambam's I rode around in a few days ago. I'm about to ask her what Dubois' car is when she gets someone to answer.
"Bams, I need to speak with Ms. Manoban. Can you put her on?"
Her eyes dart to mine and her brows furrow, disappointment morphs her features.
"I see. That's severely unfortunate being that it's her birthday and all. I know, I'm not trying to make you feel guilty," she sighs. "Listen, dear. Jennie and I were hit by a car."
I can hear Bambam shrieking on the other line.
"We're okay and the damage can be fixed. The car followed us but we got away. I'm here at my house with her. What should we do?"
She nods and eventually she hangs up.
"What'd he say?" I ask.
"He'll be here in twenty minutes."
..
..
I hold my purse against me and glare at Bambam in the entryway of Lisa's home. "Spit it out," I say with a growl.
Christine is just as anxious but something tells me he divulged to her over the phone earlier more than he's willing to tell me.
"She left in a fury," he groans, running his fingers through his chocolate curls.
"Where'd she go?"
My lip is quivering and I hate that I'm so weak. She'd promised she wouldn't shut me out and here she just whisked off without so much as a goodbye.
"Vegas. There was a fire. A bad one."
"An accident?" I whisper as the room spins. Please let it be an accident.
"Arson. She thinks it was Kai."
Bile rises in my throat. If Kai tried to burn down her hotel, then who tried to run Christine and I off the road?
Mark.
"I, uh, don't feel so well. I'm going to lie down." I rush past them and nearly run into Richard. He grips my biceps and stares fiercely into my eyes.
"Are you okay?"
I shake my head willing my tears not to spill over. He frowns and pulls me in for a quick hug, kissing me on top of the head before he releases me. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this, Jennie. I promise. Everything will work out."
My smile is forced but I nod as if I agree and make my way back to Lisa's sanctuary. It won't be okay. Because if Mark is involved, he will not stop until he has me. He'll ruin all of their lives, Lisa especially, because of me. Christine, Bambam, and Dubois will become jobless. Rich will lose his only child. And Lisa will end up dead or in prison. Once again, it disgusts me. I should have known Mark wouldn't have waited the full six months. It isn't his style. When he wants something, he takes it. After seeing me in Vegas, he probably went home, formulated a plan, and is now executing said plan. It's just the way he is.
This time he won't win. He won't take down my friends and the woman I love. I'll get the hell out of here and spare their futures.
Once inside her room, I inhale the scent of her that lingers in the air. The floor vent and blanket call to me—a beacon of promise that my problems will go away. But they won't go away. I'm not delusional. I drop my purse on the bed and rummage until I find the bag with her gift in it as well as the other item I'd picked up at the drug store.
When I first started this journey with Lisa, I'd been given an implant to prevent pregnancy and even had a couple of normal periods after. But, having been pregnant before, I know the first signs. Tiredness, swollen, sore breasts, emotional outbursts, nausea, missed period. A part of me begged for these to just be signs of stress—that there wasn't a chance the implant wouldn't have taken properly.
Yet . . .
Another part of me hopes. Hopes for the creation of something between Lisa and I, this time, a something I can protect. I'm stronger now—more prepared.
I follow the instructions and once I've peed on the stick, I wait. My heart throbs in my chest. I'm on the fence about what I want. If Mark weren't in the picture, I wonder what Lisa's reaction would be. Would she be angry? Excited? Would she want to give me her last name legally instead of whispers of it on her tongue?
After a long time, I pick up the stick.
I'm staring at it and my tears begin to blur the test in front of me. Grabbing hold of the countertop, I brace myself. This changes everything. An answer on a tiny white stick points me in the direction I must go. Because no matter how much I want things to work out with Lisa, they can't. Not with Mark, the fucking monster, lurking in the shadows. He ruined me—took life from me once. I'll be damned if that happens again.
After I wrap up the stick, I shove it down into the trash can, hiding the evidence under the bag. Now's the perfect time to leave. Lisa is in Vegas and I can slip out undetected. Money is a problem though. I'm going to have to take from her, as much as I hate the idea. But, surely she owes me for the time spent. I'll take enough to make good on the promise to Cherry too and to get the hell out of Seattle.
I remember the safe I discovered while hanging my clothes up is in her closet. On shaky legs, I make my way in there. Before, I didn't have a reason to attempt to open it. Now, I pray I can crack the code. With a hopeful sigh, I mash in 1982 and the sound of a click grants me access. I turn the lever and open the safe that's chest high and about three feet wide. Inside I find several handguns, a few metal stars that looked to be carved from aluminum, a few stacks of bound hundred dollar bills, some documents, and a thick book.
Curiosity gets the better of me and I slip the book from the shelf. It's heavy, and by the way it bulges, I'm led to believe it's a scrapbook. I sit on the closet floor and open it up.
The first page is a picture of the woman who must be her mother. Her hair is nearly black like her and her mom eyes are intense. One corner of her mouth quirks up in a smile as she holds the hand of a small girl. Her clothes, even back in the eighties, are tight, short, and for lack of a better word, skanky. Lisa is looking up at her as if she's the sun and the moon. It makes my chest ache to see her dark, mop of hair on her head. She's sockless under her shoes and the only reason I can tell is because her pants are several inches too short. They were so poor and yet in her eyes, it didn't matter. All that mattered was her mom.
My emotions get the better of me and I cry for her. With each shudder of my chest, I ache for her—for the small girl in the picture. Once I compose myself, I turn the page. A handwritten note by her makes my heart stop beating altogether.
Mama,
When I get really big I am going to bild a big huje hotel so we can live there forver. It will be warm and not cold. It will have lots and lots of food. It will have showers with sops that smell good. It will have nice people and kids to play with. You wont have to work ever again. I will give you all the muny and we can eat ham all day. I love you mama.
Lili
The letter had been written on the back of a flier and had been folded many times. It makes me wonder if it was something her mom held on to—something she cherished. I run my fingers over the note and choke back a sob. The next page has Richard Manoban's card pasted on it. There's a picture of Lisa and Rich below it. She's written 1982 all over the page as if the numbers are special to her, lucky even. I notice they were the extension of Rich's phone number on the business card. In the picture, Richard proudly hugs the somber teen Lisa against his side. Even though Lisa isn't smiling, she's clutching onto Rich as if he might disappear at any moment.
Looking into her past only makes me want to stay. It makes me want to beat her cell phone number out of Bambam and call her to tell her that I love her. That I'm pregnant with her child. With shaky fingers, I turn the page.
Toy # 1 - Pup
A picture of a dirty woman, looking quite like Lisa's mother from the first page graces the page. Below it is the same woman dressed in an exquisite dress, an elegant smile on her lips. I stare at her for some time and realization hits me. It cuts me to my core. I'm a toy just like her. Not a surprise to me since Lisa's spoken of them before but seeing it on the pages of a book, I am disgusted.
The next page is a picture of her in the Hole. She's hogtied and bruises mar her flesh. Her eyes are lost but she doesn't hate Lisa. Nobody could ever hate Lisa, even when she can be a mean bastard. It makes me jealous she's shared Lisa in all the same ways. I swallow and look at the next page.
The woman, dressed beautifully, has a black covering over her eyes and duct tape over her mouth. Tears are running down her cheeks as she lays across the seat of Lisa's car. A strand of her hair is tied in a ribbon and attached to the page. My heart catches in my chest when I read her scribbled words.
Goodbye forever, Pup
The date has been scrawled beneath it.
Toy #2 - Kitten
More of the same. Before and after pictures. Pictures in the Hole. Pictures of her tied up. Lock of her hair. Goodbye forever, Kitten. And then her end date.
Shit!
I flip through the pages until I get to a beautiful Mexican woman. Toy #19 is named Swan. A lock of her black, silky hair. So beautiful and the love in her eyes is evident. She worshipped Lisa and had hope for something more.
Like me.
My heart skips a few beats when I see her end page too. This can't be. Does she kill these women? Did I fall in love with a serial killer? Jesus!
I don't want to see what's after because I sense I'm not going to like it. Just close the book, Jennie. Close the fucking book. But the curiosity once again wins out—it always wins out and I flip the page.
A frown tugs at my lips to see Toy #20. Her name is Bunny. The first picture is of me, dirty and disgusting standing in the bathroom of the hotel. I must have been out of my head from the heroin because I don't remember her taking the picture. My hair is a fright and I'm so lost. It's sick. Then, the next picture is of me in the salon. Bambam had taken a picture of me I remember but didn't pay much attention to the reason. I'm beautiful and clean, the smile is forced but present.
No.
Please no.
The next picture is of me in the Hole. Her fist is in my hair and you can tell she took the picture while she fucked me. All you can see is her arm, veins protruding. I absently run a finger across her arm in the picture.
Surely she changed her ways with me. The sincerity was there. She professed her love to me. The woman may have fucked me wild but she also held me in front of her fire on her vent. She whispered assurances into my ear and made love to me with more passion than any other man in my life.
Unless she did this with all of them.
Am I so fucking stupid that I went right along with her games?
I'm a goddamned pawn on her chessboard?
When I flip the page, there is no picture but the words at the bottom answer my questions.
Goodbye forever, Bunny.
The date is that of which matches the one on our contract. A contract to kill. A contract to reform a whore, fuck with her head into believing she loves her, and then slaughter her like the rest.
My fingers flutter over my belly and I look around me. Once again, I'm sitting in a closet, assuring my baby everything will be okay, and fearing a woman who's clearly a monster. The irony's not lost on me.
I think back to a phone conversation I had with Rosé not long after I first met her.
"You swear this is confidential?" My voice cracks and I'm glad I'm alone, hiding in the dark Theater Room.
"Of course, Jennie," Rosé assures me. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"
I sigh and with my exhaled breath, I blurt it out. "Six years ago, I left an extremely abusive relationship. Not only was I verbally and emotionally abused, but he also hurt me physically and sexually."
"I see. Go on, honey."
I swallow and my voice quivers, unshed tears welling in my eyes. "So why do I like what Lisa does to me? I mean, my abuser humiliated me all the time. He punished me for things I didn't even have control over. So why am I subjecting myself to this again?"
She rustles some papers and then responds. "I want you to understand something, dear. Domestic violence and BDSM are not the same thing. BDSM is based upon consent. Domestic violence is not. You keep telling me that you like what Lisa does to you—that it turns you on. That doesn't make you sick or in dire need of psychological help. That's your way of maintaining the control that you were never awarded in your prior relationship. You have trust in Lisa that if you were to pull the plug, she'd stop. But you don't want to pull the plug. BDSM is all about trust whereas the domestic violence is based on fear. There's nothing wrong with you, honey. And if it ever came to a point that you feared her, then that would mean the relationship is no longer a healthy one but one lacking the very trust that is crucial for such a dynamic sexual relationship to exist."
I blink away the memory and glance over at her shoes lined neatly along the wall. They're so normal and unassuming—nothing like the monster who wears them each day. I'm afraid for my unborn child. After seeing that book—seeing what she does to those women—I can't trust that I'll somehow be given a reprieve. That I'll be different. I'm taking the sex doctor's advice and I'm taking back control.
I stand up and yank the two wads of money from the shelf. The book gets tossed back into the safe where it belongs—never seeing the light of day. Lifting my chin, I swipe the tears from my cheeks.
History is not repeating itself.
This story ends now.
I will not let this happen. My baby will not die this time.
Goodbye forever, Lili.
..
..
Lisa
..
..
"I want eyes on the house, Matvei," I tell him as I stalk off the plane.
"Vsevolod will make sure nobody gets in or out," he assures me. "When will we be heading back?"
I didn't even pack a bag. Simply hauled ass to Vegas the moment Jackson made the call.
"Just make sure the plane is fueled and on standby. I'm going to go deal with this shit and then I'm going home."
He assures me he will and by the time I make it out to the parking lot of the small airport, I find Jackson waiting, leaned up against his car.
"What makes you think he's dead?" I bark out my question as we climb into the vehicle.
He said they found a body in the server room of the hotel, charred beyond recognition. The camera footage was destroyed but eye-witnesses saw him. Dubois. My right hand man. An ache forms in my chest at the thought. A part of me knows Dubois is a fighter and a fire wouldn't be what would take him down. However, another part of me thinks I'm in denial.
"He's not answering his cell and his room is empty."
I swallow down the emotion that's thick in my throat. "There could be another explanation. A better question, though, is where in the fuck is Kai? I'm going to kill that motherfucker. I should have done it that night he put his hands on Jennie."
Jackson zips down the road toward the hotel. "I think we can lure him to us—make that dream a reality. If he knows you're in Vegas, he'll try something, I'm sure."
"I'll hold a small press conference. Instead of bringing light to the fact that my former CEO tried to burn the place down, I'll explain that we had an unfortunate incident of a server that caught fire. We'll shut down operations until we can restore the hotel. I'm sure he wants to fuck with me and that's exactly what I'll give him. And, Jack?"
He turns his attention to me when he stops at a light. Poor guy is fucking exhausted. After this all goes down, I'm going to offer him a different job. "Yeah, boss?"
"We're going to find Dubois too."
..
"Ms. Manoban, do you think there's a possibility it could be arson?" one of the reporters demands.
I shake my head grimly. "No ma'am. The servers were getting old and I was actually in the process of going over some bids to replace them," I lie easily. "Apparently me dragging my feet came to bite me in the end. Now, my employees and I are going to focus on recovering information and rebuilding. We appreciate the community's support. Thank you."
Camera flashes blind me and people holler questions at me, but I turn and stalk away. Jackson and I make our way to the penthouse suite so we can wait for Kai's next move.
"I've been considering this for a while but in light of what's happened recently, I'm now convinced. I want you to call Mr. Morrison. He's approached me several times wanting to buy the hotel. His desire is to turn it into one of the biggest casinos in Vegas. You and I both know I don't need the money anymore. I'm getting older and am ready to retire from some of the business areas that exhaust me to no end. Get me a meeting with him and we'll make this happen."
He nods and starts for the door.
"Don't worry, Jack. I'll make sure you have a good job at one of my other companies. Don't even stress about it. You've been a good, loyal employee. I will always take care of you."
His shoulders sag in relief as he opens the door. "Thank you, ma'am."
He starts to step out but I am startled to see the barrel of a gun press against his forehead, forcing him back into the room. On the other end of that gun is Kai. Just seeing his smug ass again has my blood boiling in rage. This motherfucker not only tried to fuck Jennie but he fucked with my company by stealing my money, and then murdering Irene. I'm already at my feet with my fists at my side, ready to charge him.
"Not so fast, asshole," Kai spits out. "Make one false move and I put a bullet in his head."
A growl rumbles in my chest. "You won't win, dickhead. You're just a wannabe. Your ass had something good being CEO and you fucked it all up being a greedy little shit. Now, you've taken one step too far. And I swear to God if Dubois was killed because of your doing, I'll gladly gut you from your dick to your throat. You're messing with the wrong goddamned man."
He snarls at me. "You think I did all this alone? Girl, you are a stupid dumb shit. Just like he said you were. You may be able to get rid of me, but you'll still have someone else on your ass. He'll fuck you over so hard you'll be bleeding out of your ass for days. Get it through your thick skull, Lisa, you're not winning this round."
My mind reels. Dubois would never double cross me and Jackson has a gun to his head. Neither of them could be a co-conspirator. "You're bluffing."
He scoffs. "Do you remember when you kicked my ass? I happened to be lurking around, waiting for my payback when you came to Vegas with your skanky whore when I ran into him. He'd even fucked up your whore right under your damn nose. That is how we knew we'd make a great team. We both fucking hate you."
The room pulsates with ripples of my rage that I can't contain. The unknown blond fucker who hurt my Jennie is his accomplice. "Who is he?"
"So damn oblivious. You'll find out soon enough," he sneers.
My eyes flit to the doorway and Dubois stands there, his shoulders stiffened and his face twisted into an ugly scowl I've never witnessed before. Even as I see him standing there, I don't believe it. Dubois hasn't ever not had my back. He has it now. I know it.
Two steps into the room.
His arm raises.
Pop!
My eyes bug out of my head as Jackson crumples to the floor. Kai's eyes are on mine but now his palm is on his throat desperately attempting to hold in the blood. It runs down his front and his eyes roll back into his head. Jackson crawls out of the way as Kai stumbles forward. He falls on his face and the blood gushes from him.
"Ma'am, are you okay?"
Dubois still has his weapon raised but concern paints his features.
"Uh, shit. Yes. What the fuck, man? I thought you were dead!"
He shakes his head as he steps into the room. "I was busy cleaning up his mess. Kai was planning something big. He's been emailing with an unknown about gathering evidence for your 'demise' which included stealing information from the servers. The idiot sent in a paid fool to take the backup tapes. My only choice was to burn the evidence of your clientele and the man as well. Kai was only a puppet—someone else is now running this show. And that, ma'am, is why we need to get back to Seattle. I think their plan was to lure you away from your home. I don't think Jennie or Christine or your father are safe. We need to move."
The reality of the situation snaps me to attention. "What about this?" I point at the dead body.
Dubois lifts his chin and whistles. Two men—old thugs—saunter in. They're both plainly packing heat and dragging two huge bags.
"J-Dawg and Kryptonite will handle this. They'll take him back to LA, set it up as if he was involved in some shady drug deal gone bad. I've paid them handsomely for their assistance. Nothing will lead back to you, ma'am."
It occurs to me that Dubois knows these guys from way back when, before I rescued and hired him.
"D-Bag, we got this, bro. Whitey here is gonna be another corpse on LAPD's list of unsolved homicides," one of the guys tells Dubois. "And we'll make sure your auntie Bea gets the other 10k. We're good for that shit, brotha."
I know Dubois sends all of his earnings from his rental to her, but sometimes he likes to send her a little extra in the form of cash so she doesn't have to report it for taxes. He takes care of that woman who always did what she could for him.
"And that's why you two are my boys," Dubois says with a grin that hardly makes an appearance. He then turns to me and the stiffness that is him returns. "Let's get to Seattle, ma'am."
..
..
By the time we land at the small airport, I'm fucking furious. Dubois informed me that Bambam had called him. Christine and Jennie had been chased and nearly run off the road. I'm enraged. Of course I know deep down who hurt her, and I'm a stupid goddamned failure for not being able to protect her from him.
Dubois hauls ass the whole way back to the house while I grit my teeth to dust. I'm exhausted as hell having flown through the night and not catching any sleep. All I want is Jennie in my arms—to assure her I'm going to sort this shit out. That I'll never leave her again because I'm selling that goddamned hotel and Kai is no longer a threat. I just need to dispatch this other asshole and then she and I can live in peace. No more bullshit.
The sun is starting to rise when we pull in the driveway. Dubois opens the garage door but as we start to pull in, something catches my eye on the door leading into the house.
"Stop!"
I scramble out of the car to find a rabbit mutilated almost beyond recognition on the doorstep. In its blood, written on my door I find the words:
I'M HUNTING WABBIT.
When Dubois curses from behind me, I leap into action. I charge in through the garage to make sure she's unharmed. When I make it into the entryway and deactivate the alarm, my heart leaps into my throat at the silence in the house.
"Jennie! Christine!" I shout.
Silence.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Please, God. Don't let my family be gone. I can't survive this again.
"In here, girl."
I nearly collapse in relief but instead charge into the living room. Jennie is curled up against my dad sleeping. Her cheeks are swollen from crying and she clutches her purse in her sleep. She's wearing tennis shoes, her black yoga pants, and a grey hoodie. I want to scoop her into my arms and carry her to my bedroom—to snatch up my comfy blanket and hold her over the warm vent. I want to pause everything and live in the moment with her.
"Is she okay?" My voice is hoarse.
He frowns and rubs sleep from his eyes. "Define okay. Girl, you have a lot of explaining to do."
My heart palpitates. What does he know? I'm still mentally freaking the fuck out when she stirs awake and then sits up. Fear flashes in her eyes at seeing me.
Fucking fear.
Of all the times I've whipped her ass, humiliated her, threatened her, she's afraid of me now? When all I want to do is grab her up and spend my entire life worshipping her. What the fuck happened while I was gone?
"I know about the book."
My skin becomes ice as her chilling words cut their way through me. Of course she fucking knows now. The curious woman already figured out the code to my bedroom. My safe has the same goddamned code!
"Baby, let me explain—"
"No!" she hisses. "You're a murderer, Lisa! I will not be another page in your book. Consider this my final fucking goodbye. Good riddance you monster. You're no better than my husband."
Her words slice through me and the blackness of my soul pours out. Husband. Monster. Goodbye. Dad is trying to calm her and Dubois is murmuring to me but the roar of fury deafens me. I can't hold onto her any longer. It's time I do what's best for her and not what I want.
"Tie her up. Her stay is over." My words are cold and empty. The room silences as the finality saturates each and every one of their heads.
Dubois is the first to snap into action. He grabs hold of her and manhandles her screaming self into the garage. Once he's managed to get her out of the room, my eyes land on the angry ones of my dad.
"Lalisa Manoban, I don't know what the hell is going on but we are going to fix this. Talk to me, girl. Do not do whatever it is you're about to do. Jennie loves you and you love her. What you're about to do is final and it's a mistake."
I wave a hand at him. "Dad, we'll talk when I get back. Tell Bambam I want him to take Christine back home. Keep them safe."
Turn off your heart, Lisa.
Let your head call the shots, Lisa.
I harden my heart and make the decision to do what's necessary.
Tears should roll down her bright red cheeks and her garbled pleas should become more frantic with each passing mile.
But not with her. Bunny is different. Always has been, always will be.
Dubois trussed her up tight at the estate just like all the others—her wrists fastened behind her back with a zip tie, a matching one around her ankles above her tennis shoes, and a scarf strung through her open mouth to the point of nearly gagging her.
Yet, instead of begging and crying, she's glaring at me. The fear that she exposed briefly to me is gone and hate fills her expression. Somehow the hate she conjures up isn't all for me. It's for every wrong thing that's ever happened to her in her life—the loss of Grace, the prostitution and addiction to drugs, the abuse she endured at the hotel from that fucker, and everything I've done to her—both perceived and real.
They all try to escape the inevitable in the end. And so should she.
Every single fucking time it's the same.
Please don't get rid of me, ma'am.
But Jennie—Bunny isn't like them. Her eyes glitter with promise and fierce determination. If she had a weapon, there'd be no doubt in my mind she'd attempt to use it on me. The thought fucking guts me. It wasn't supposed to be this way.
I drag my eyes away from the woman I love and turn my anxious attention to the Washington state tree line along the interstate. We're almost there—to the place where each toy meets their end. Where I dust my hands and start anew. Yet this time, I want to scream in frustration. I want to figure out another way—to make her see the goodness inside of me instead. But I know this is the only way.
"Another ten minutes, ma'am," Dubois assures me from the driver's seat.
I meet his eyes in the mirror and nod before turning back to the window. When we slow and then turn onto a gravel road that leads into the dark, thick woods, she begins growling through the scarf.
No fear.
Hate. Hate. Hate.
Jesus, it wasn't supposed to go down this way!
"You were fun for a little while," I lie through gritted teeth. She was fun for every second of every day I had with her. More than fun, she completed broken parts of me. "But now it's time to say goodbye."
This toy shit is over. I'm retiring in more ways than one. Selling the hotel and taking care of Dad are my new priorities. Plus, there'll never be another woman like her. It's my punishment to exist without the sun. If I can't keep her safe and mine, then this is the only way.
Dubois climbs out of the car and I hear him exchange words in Russian with Matvei. Jennie, as if she understands the language, widens her eyes in surprise. Does she question her fate which she was so certain of only seconds before?
"Time to say goodbye, Bunny."
I want to taste her, just like the others. But Bunny is different. If I put my mouth on her pouty lips, I'll become so goddamned addicted again, I won't be able to go through with what needs to be done. My chest aches in protest.
She doesn't flinch when I reach over and tug the scarf free. I expect her to beg and plead for her life like they all do. To grant her an extension on her shitty life. Unfortunately for her, I'm not in control anymore.
"And to think, I believed you truly loved me." Her voice wobbles but not from fear; from betrayal. It cuts me deep.
I take a deep breath and try not to look at her. In the past, I'd be craving to fuck my toy one last time before I said goodbye. Not with her. With Jennie Fucking Manoban, I crave to haul her to me. Promise her the world. Kiss her until forever. Make love to the woman who owns my heart.
"Bunny, I don't love you. I never have."
Her lip curls up in disgust and she shakes her head. "I hope I haunt your fucking dreams, Lisa. Every single night. I want you to think about what you lost."
I lean forward and inhale her but don't kiss her. "There will be no doubt, Jennie. I'll think of you every second of every day for the rest of my shitty existence."
Gently, I tug a strand from her messy, dark bun and twirl the hair in my fingertips. She relaxes at the gesture and I crave for the pause button. I want to stretch out a few seconds into eternity.
"Ready, ma'am?"
I swallow down my emotion and turn toward Dubois. "Yes. Bring me the scissors."
She lifts her chin and waits. All the other toys scream and cry, assuming I'd hurt them with the gleaming, metal scissors. A sad sob catches in her throat as I clip the only piece of her I get to keep.
She loves me.
But that doesn't matter because her time is up.
There will never be another toy.
I've lost the desire to restore.
Nothing will ever be pristine and shiny in my eyes, not after Jennie.
"Any last words, Bunny?"
A single tear rolls down her cheek and she shakes her head. The hate has long since drained from her eyes and her gaze becomes magnetic. With each ticking second, I'm drawn closer to her. She doesn't have to utter any words because I can feel them. Every single one.
Love. Confusion. Distrust. Betrayal. Sadness. Loss.
I'll fucking miss her.
My life will never be the same.
"Goodbye."
She makes no sound when Dubois gently ushers her out of the car with him. Matvei takes her away from my presence. Together, they do what I don't like doing. They do the hard part. My part is always easy.
Not this time though.
While they take care of her, I die. One choked breath at a time, I die. With each beat of my broken heart, I die.
Dubois returns to the car. He puts it in drive and we head back home. I drop my gaze to the lock of hair between my fingers and scowl. Twenty toys. Twenty locks of hair. Twenty times I'd indulged in my greatest fantasies.
I just never expected when I started with Jennie that she'd take my heart with her in exchange for this insignificant piece of hair.
Goodbye, my love.
..
..
..