Chapter 4 #2
The room spins as someone on their end turns the laptop around.
My face breaks into a smile when a pretty blonde woman around my age comes into view.
She returns my grin with one of her own, her eyes lighting up when she sees me.
“Dolly! How are you? It’s been a while since we’ve heard from you.
” She sets the laptop on a table next to her so I can better see her.
“Is that Dolly?” another voice says, and a woman with curly brown hair and bright-aqua eyes peers into the screen. I give her a little wave, almost embarrassed at the attention.
“Move, bitches, I wanna say hi,” a third voice says. The woman it belongs to has brown hair and eyes, and tattoos covering one arm. She leaps over the back of the couch they’re sitting on, forcing herself between the other two.
Tessa, Rebecca, and Dutch. Or my guardian angels, as I call them.
Two years ago, they stormed into Grammy Lockwood’s Home For Girls and obliterated the malicious guards who enjoyed tormenting us.
I remember watching with a wide grin on my face as they took them out, one by one.
While the other girls cowered in corners, I had crept closer to watch, and when they captured the cruel bitch that made our lives a living hell, I asked to help torture the cunt.
I enjoyed every second of it.
Does that make me as evil as them? I give a mental shrug. But I never hurt the innocent. Perhaps enjoying the bloodshed makes me fucked up. I’m sure the morality police would happily lock me away and throw away the key.
But they won’t do the hard work I’m willing to do.
What Tessa, Rebecca, and Dutch do every day.
Not everyone deserves life, to breathe the same as the rest of us.
I fully understand the hypocrisy. I’m not a good person either.
Thirteen people have lost their lives because of me.
Maybe I don’t deserve to live, and perhaps one day, someone will take me out too. And that’s okay.
I refuse to feel remorse for taking the lives of pedophiles and abusers. I’ll willingly accept a place in hell if it means I can spare even one child from the horrors I faced.
My guardian angels know all about hard lives. Tessa’s parents and uncle routinely abused her. Rebecca grew up in a house full of horrors no child should ever endure. Dutch’s father was the ultimate monster—a villain so evil, he gave the devil himself a run for his money.
The justice system failed us all, as it routinely does for so many. They may call us murderers and vigilantes, but we do what the system refuses to—take out the trash. The world is a better place without them in it, and I won’t apologize for it.
The four of us make a little small talk before I get down to why I contacted them. “I was wondering if Eric or Trey might do a little research for me,” I ask. Eric is one of Tessa’s husbands—she has two—and Trey is Rebecca’s. Both are hackers and are scarily good at what they do.
A head of black curls lowers over the top of the screen, and two gray eyes blink at me upside down. A startled laugh pulls from me as I tilt my head to the side. “Hi, Eric.”
The screen spins again, making me dizzy, and Eric’s full face appears—the right way up this time. “Why would you even bother asking Trey when I’m the best?” he teases.
“Fuck off, you little asshole,” a deep voice shouts.
Eric carries us into the kitchen and plops the laptop on the counter. Trey, an older Black man with short hair and a trimmed beard, comes into view. He raises a coffee cup in my direction in lieu of a hello.
He doesn’t talk much, unless it’s to Rebecca.
“What can we do for you?” Eric asks.
“There’s this man?—”
Eric places his chin on his palm and waggles his brows. “A man, huh? Go on, tell me more.” A large hand appears out of nowhere and slaps the back of his head. “Ow. Don’t be jealous, Nate. You know I love you.”
I suck my lips into my mouth to keep from laughing. Nate is Eric’s husband and Tessa’s other husband. They’ve got a ménage thing going on. They bicker for a moment, and a familiar pang hits my chest. I rub it absently, feeling tendrils of jealousy rising.
They all had horrific childhoods like mine.
Tessa and Rebecca suffered from repeated sexual abuse.
They understand what it’s like to cower in fear and have a deep familiarity with terror.
Yet the three of them have successful relationships.
All three are married to men who adore them, who would kill for them or lay down their lives for them in a heartbeat.
They’ve found happiness and love in a world filled with cruelty.
What would that be like? To find your perfect match, one who would burn the world for you? A lump forms in my throat as Nate ruffles Eric’s hair before moving away from the screen. Could I ever trust a man enough to give myself to them?
I force the sheen of tears to dissipate and clear my throat. Eric drops the goofy smile and straightens his shoulders. The one thing I love about all of them is that they have never looked at me with pity—even when they found me in the home, dressed in rags and covered in lice.
“So, this man,” Eric says. “Tell us about him.” He and Trey listen as I repeat the little I know about Sinister. While Eric’s face remains impassive, the more I go on, the more Trey scowls.
“He sounds dangerous,” Trey says after I’ve finished. “Why involve yourself in his affairs?”
“I just—” I sigh and run a hand through my hair. “I came back here after you guys rescued me because I need justice. Not just for me, but for my family too. For all the children caught up in their corrupted system. I have to do something; I can’t just stand back and let it continue.”
“But this Sinister guy sounds a bit like us,” Eric replies. “If the rumors are true about him, that is. It’s possible he’s simply a hitman for that O’Brien guy you mentioned, but it sounds like he might be on his own mission.”
“That’s what I want to find out. If he’s a serial killer with a torture kink?—”
“I resent that implication!” Tessa calls out from the living room, making me chuckle.
“I need to know,” I continue. “On the other hand, if he’s like me, it would be nice to know I have a possible ally if I needed one. Not sure how I’d make his acquaintance, but stranger things have happened. Like getting rescued by you guys.”
Eric sits back and folds his arms over his chest. “Alright. Trey and I will look into him. If he’s as secretive as you suggest, it might take us a couple of days.”
I offer him a smile. “Thank you both. I appreciate it.” Glancing again at the bright windows in the background, I ask, “Where are you, anyway?” They’re based in New York City, so it should be as dark there as it is here.
“Australia. We’re hunting down a large trafficking ring.”
“Don’t fuck with the kangaroos. I hear they have a nasty kick.”
Eric chuckles. “Cruz already had an encounter with one. Kangaroo: one, Cruz: zero.” I laugh, picturing Dutch’s husband fighting the marsupial. After we say our goodbyes, I shut down the encrypted connection and lean back against the scratched metal wall posing as a headboard.
Why did that body have to turn up so close to my warehouse? I’ve managed to ignore the whispers I’ve heard about The Carver for two whole years. Now, he’s all I can think about, especially after Eric’s comment about him “being like us.”
My stomach rumbles, reminding me I have eaten nothing since the small basket of fries at the bar.
I slide off the mattress and check I have some money left in my pocket.
I’ll get something to eat and maybe scout out the docklands.
Perhaps I’ll find some information on Sinister on my own while I wait for Eric or Trey to get back to me.