Dirty Ugly Toy (39 page)

Looking into his past only makes me want to stay. It makes me want to beat his cell phone number out of Cartier and call him to tell him that I love him. That I’m pregnant with his child. With shaky fingers, I turn the page.

Toy # 1 - Pup

A picture of a dirty woman, looking quite like his 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 he’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 him. Nobody could ever hate Brax, even when he can be a mean bastard. It makes me jealous she’s shared him 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 his 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 his 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 Asian 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 him 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 he 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, Jessica. 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 him 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. Cartier 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. His fist is in my hair and you can tell he took the picture while he fucked me. All you can see is his muscular arm, veins protruding. I absently run a finger across his arm in the picture.

Surely he changed his ways with me. The sincerity was there. He professed his love to me. The man may have fucked me wild but he also held me in front of his fire on his vent. He whispered assurances into my ear and made love to me with more passion than any other man in my life.

Unless he did this with all of them.

Am I so fucking stupid that I went right along with his games?

I’m a goddamned pawn on his 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 he 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 man who’s clearly a monster. The irony’s not lost on me.

I think back to a phone conversation I had with Nat 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, Jessica,” Nat 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 Brax 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 Brax 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 Brax that if you were to pull the plug, he’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 him, 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 his 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 he 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, Braxxy.

“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 Jamal 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 Jamal 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 Trevor? I’m going to kill that motherfucker. I should have done it that night he put his hands on Jessica.”

Jamal 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, Jamal?”

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.”

“Mr. Kennedy, 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. Jamal and I make our way to the penthouse suite so we can wait for Trevor’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, Jamal. 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, sir.”

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 Trevor. Just seeing his smug ass again has my blood boiling in rage. This motherfucker not only tried to fuck Jessica but he fucked with my company by stealing my money, and then murdering Glenna. I’m already at my feet with my fists at my side, ready to charge him.

“Not so fast, asshole,” Trevor 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? Boy, 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, Brax, you’re not winning this round.”

My mind reels. Dubois would never double cross me and Jamal 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.”