5. Blade
BLADE
God, she’s fucking gorgeous.
As Cyrus led the way to the jail cell, I couldn’t keep my eyes off our pretty new toy. She lay limp over Cyrus’s shoulder, head swinging with each stride. Her pretty blonde hair cascaded down the back of her head, ending in blunt, blue ends that I wanted so badly to touch.
Her makeup was smudged — who knew how long those roaches had been chasing her before we squished them? — but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to see it dripping down her cheeks, smearing while I filled her pretty little lips.
Fuck, she’ll be so fun to play with.
We’d had a handful of playthings over the years, but I could already tell that this one was special. I never got an excuse to use the needle — none of the others had bothered putting up a fight.
But it was so much more fun that she did.
I loved feeling her thrash against our grips, kicking uselessly until her limbs went numb. I could get used to the feeling of subduing her. I could wrestle her like that forever.
“Blade.” Cyrus grumbled, shifting the pretty little doll on her shoulder.
“My turn?” I picked up the pace, reaching out a hand to touch the girl.
But Cyrus turned to face me, pulling the prisoner just out of my reach. “The door.”
“Why do I have to get it?” I pouted as Nash breezed up behind me.
“Hands are kind of full.” She hefted the mallet against her shoulder. “Would you rather be on lookout?”
“No,” I muttered. The roaches were already dead — standing guard would be so boring.
Instead, I bounded up ahead, passing under the rickety wooden sign for the Old Frontier.
It was one of my favorite sections of the park — a dingy little old west town that had only grown more dilapidated with age.
Down cobblestone roads, there was an old saloon, a blacksmith, and a railway ride right outside the general store.
Then, there was the building we’d come here for: the county jail, complete with wooden stocks out front and a handlettered sign up top.
I’d spent decent stretches of the early years hanging out here and living out my cowboy dreams: shooting cans, drinking moonshine, and fashioning my best lasso. Hell, I still spent a good weekend that way, on occasion.
As I passed Cyrus and our little toy, I hardly had to sniff to pick up her scent filling the air. She even smelled pretty: sweat, dirt, and an alcohol-forward floral perfume that made my head spin. The idea of her efforts being wasted on one of those stupid little bugs made me sick.
But as I hopped the stocks, the image of her locked up at my mercy brought the smile back to my face.
This is going to be so much fun.
As Cyrus and Nash lumbered up behind me with our prize in tow, I got busy at the keypad, punching in numbers until the deadbolt clunked back into its casing. The jailhouse door swept up a small dust cloud as I kicked it in — a few months of disuse had the place feeling like a real ghost town.
I didn’t mind cleaning up quickly for our gorgeous little captive, though. I made quick work of pushing aside the old sheriff’s desk, fishing out the cell keys from under the floorboard, and fluffing up the bed for our sleeping beauty.
Just in time for Cyrus to darken the doorway. “Do you mind?”
I stepped to the side, gesturing to the bed where Cyrus dropped her limp body. My shoulders tensed when the bedframe squeaked. I would have been mad at her for being careless with our new toy if her next command hadn’t thrilled me so much.
“Search her.”
“Dibs!” I called as Cyrus exited the cell to lean against the sheriff’s desk, setting her mask down with a sigh.
Meanwhile, Nash shut the jailhouse door and relocked the deadbolt, hanging her mask over the handle of her mallet. I liked to keep my mask on.
Both of them watched me carefully as I skimmed my hands over her pockets, feeling for a wallet or a phone or any other fun goodies she might be carrying.
My nerves buzzed like a livewire — it was so tempting to press my palms flat, to feel the exposed expanse of her pretty skin, to slip my hand under that little crop top and sink my fingers into the soft flesh of her.
But not like this.
Call me old-fashioned, but I liked my girls to know before I touched them like that. Much more fun when they might wake up to me, gasping so pretty while my fingers sunk in and out of their—
“Got anything?” Cyrus grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.
“A phone.” I slid the cracked old thing from the doll’s back pocket before chucking it over to Nash. “Pretty busted up.”
“No kidding,” Nash winced, shooting me a glare as she sucked blood and glass from the fresh cut on her finger. “Locked.”
She set it on the desk next to Cyrus. “Got a guy for that?”
“Got a guy for everything.” Cyrus slid the phone into her back pocket with a scowl.
“ID?” Nash called back to me.
“Nothing. No wallet. A real Jane Doe.”
“Must have dropped it in the park,” Nash frowned.
“Or the woods. Who knows how fucking far she ran?” Cyrus didn’t sound pleased by the lack of wallet.
But nothing could bring me down from the thrill of our new toy. “I’d like to see just how far she can run before her legs give out.”
“Don’t be sick,” Nash sighed, raising a hand before I could counter her argument. “More sick than usual, Blade.”
“Oh, don’t act like you’re above it,” I cooed, leaning up against the metal bars that encircled the bed. “You want to break her just as bad as I do, Storm.”
She flexed her hand, the lightning tattoo jumping over the tense cords of muscle. “Are you all done in there? Can we lock up?”
“Only if I can watch her first.” I reached up, grabbing the metal bars at the top of the cell door and pulling my feet off the ground.
Cyrus let out a deep sigh. “Can you be trusted to take first watch?”
“Of course I can,” I swung my feet out before letting go of the bars and dropping down again. “You know I’m always careful with my toys.”
Cyrus glanced at Nash, who nodded before holding her hand out to me. “Keys.”
My hand dropped defensively to my pocket. “Why do you need those?”
“Do you want first watch or not?” Nash raised her eyebrow.
“Fine,” I threw my head back, brushing a strand of hair away from Sleeping Beauty’s face before locking the gate between us.
“Here.” I flung the keys over my shoulder to Nash, not wanting to take my eyes off of my pretty little prize.
Cyrus pushed off the desk and headed toward the door. “You call us as soon as she’s up. Yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I waved her off, pulling a wooden chair up beside the cell. “Ta-ta.”
“Goodnight,” Nash hummed, punching in the code for the keypad.
Cyrus followed her to the door, pausing just long enough to look back at me. “The moment she’s up, Blade.”
“Sure thing.” I smirked, running my fingers over the cold bars of the cell. And as the jailhouse door swung shut, electricity buzzed through my veins.
It was silly that Nash and Cyrus were so worried, and it was much easier to enjoy myself without their watchful eyes on me.
It would be hours before our new toy woke from the meds — not until the evening, if I’d gotten the dosage right. But I didn’t mind — I’d watch her for hours, days if that’s what it took. They’d have to force me to step away when my shift was over.
If it were up to me, I would drink up every little twitch of her lips, every little flutter of her eyelashes and every peaceful little sigh.
And when she finally batted open those pretty little eyes of hers and rejoined the waking world, I’d be watching. Waiting for that delicious moment where the peace on her sweet face turned to absolute terror.