by P. Jameson
Skittles hacked the outer security cams to create a loop so the clan could sneak onto Bastian’s private property. But he hadn’t successfully breeched the basement camera. Yet, anyway. Which meant if he failed, the entire escape could be caught on film. And their plan to lead Bastian to the Junkyard Dogs would fall apart.
Monster had managed to sneak Ratchet inside the mansion by snaking through back entrances and connected rooms to reach the basement hall. He was just outside the door, out of sight of the camera, ears open for Skittles’s signal. Fang, Smokes, and Felix waited outside the tiny basement window to cut the bars off and usher the females to safety. The remaining Alley Cats were stationed around the perimeter of the property with orders to take out any of Bastian’s men who got in the way.
They were doing this. One way or another, Monster would have his girl safe. Tonight.
And then he could try to figure out what was happening inside him. Why he needed her safe more than his next goddamn slice of oxygen.
She was huddled in her normal spot, in the same worn and dirty clothes she’d had on earlier. The remnants of dinner, a small tin plate and plastic spoon, lay on the floor beside her.
The sight broke his fucking heart. And he’d thought his pops had already done that so many years ago. Worthless piece of shit. You’ll never be enough, never be anything other than a monster, boy.
Monster blinked away the memory.
The desire to pull Vegas to his chest and put his arms around her and tell her the truth was almost his undoing.
Just a little longer.
What he’d done in the hall wasn’t enough. Words weren’t enough. He wanted to show her that he’d keep all the monsters away.
All of them except him.
Because he was going to get better. He was going to be good for her. He was going to heal and become strong and be enough for her. If it was the last thing he ever did.
On the inside at least. He couldn’t fix the outside. She’d have to be able to overlook it.
Monster swallowed hard.
He found her eyes through the darkness. They were open at least. It was a good sign.
“Hey, snowflake. You ready for this?” he rumbled low.
He couldn’t explain what he meant, not with the camera still recording, but he hoped she could tell by his look he wasn’t talking about a trip to the river.
“Come out from there.”
Seconds passed, maybe minutes, before she shifted, easing out from her spot. Nyla helped her stand, shooting a glare his way.
“I’m good,” Vegas assured her before lifting her dove-gray eyes to Monster. She met his gaze straight on, but he saw the fear there. Still.
For a fucked-up moment, he wished he could tell her he was scared too. That the things happening inside him, the voice so familiar yet different, the feelings swirling behind his sternum, feelings he’d thought were long gone, the fear that he’d fail her… all of it scared the living hell out of him.
A quick knock on the door had all the Dolls jumping. Including Janet, who’d emerged from the bathroom looking pale. Four taps with a break between two and three. It was the signal Monster had been waiting for.
He stalked to the lock and tapped in the code so the door would open.
Ratchet strode in, taking a long look at the place his mate had spent an ugly ten years. His expression went from mission focused to slack in the time of one breath. “Fuck,” he hissed, his lips twisting into a snarl. His blue eyes got that odd hint of a flame in the background as he scanned the room. “This… this is where Marlee lived?”
Monster wondered how long Vegas had been here.
We will find out soon, the voice murmured inside.
The girls, including Vegas, backed away slowly. Almost as one. Almost as if they’d done this before.
The fire in Monster’s chest flared to life.
“It’s okay,” he told them, knowing they had no reason to trust him. “This is Ratchet. He’s here to help me get you out of here.”
Nyla’s gaze shot to the camera.
“It’s off,” Monster assured her. “Our man, Skittles, he’s good at computers. Like you. He’s got it looped so Bastian can’t hear any of this. But we have to move fast.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth the sound of the brothers cutting into the bars rattled the window and Skye let out a sharp scream.
Shit.
Ratchet lunged for her, wrapping his palm around her mouth before she drew any attention. The other dolls cowered closer to the corner.
“We won’t hurt you,” Ratchet told them, his voice calmer than Monster felt. “Marlee sent us.”
“Marlee?” Vegas spoke up. “Is she okay? Is she safe? Did she make it to the police? Please…”
Ratchet found her wide eyes. “She’s safe. I promise you that. She is safe and taken care of.”
Monster watched as Vegas pressed her lips together and her head bowed low on her shoulders. She made an odd sound and suddenly tears were falling from her face to land in little droplets on the floor.
“Marlee made it,” she murmured, sounding more alive than he’d heard her ever.
Monster’s fists clenched open and closed wanting to catch those tears and take them away. Goddamn it. What was happening to him?
Ratchet nodded. “She made it, and we’ve been trying to get you free all this time. We sent Monster in undercover to watch over you.”
Vegas’s head snapped up, her watery eyes focusing hard on Monster. And for a breath, he felt completely raw before her. Could she see everything, the truth, in his eyes right now?
He looked away.
He wasn’t ready for her to see him yet. Get her free first.
“I’m going to move my hand,” Ratchet told Skye. “I need you to stay calm. Okay?”
She gave a wide-eyed nod and he slowly let her go. She stumbled to the girls, ducking behind Nyla as if the female would protect her.
The bars on the window rattled again and then broke free leaving just the dark glass that had been painted black. Monster saw the faint glow of a flashlight behind it, trying to see inside.
And then Felix’s rough voice. “If you can hear me, I suggest you move ya ass away from the fucking window.”
Skye scurried away, pressing her back against the far wall while Janet, Nyla, and Vegas shifted toward the bed.
In the next breath, the glass shattered, sending shards all over the room.
“Fucker,” Ratchet muttered, stomping over to the window and peering up at their leader’s snarling face.
“What’s the matter, asshole? Did I get glass in your hair?”
“Shut up. You’re scaring the females.”
Felix scanned the room, his eyes stopping on certain parts of it. And even Monster noticed the surprise on his face at the condition.
Felix was a hard bastard. Cruel as they came. The savage heart. Made that way by the Fathers so he could lead the clan. But it was clear Bastian had surprised him by hoarding away females in his rotting basement. Most likely, he was wondering why he hadn’t thought to do the same thing.
“Scaring females is what I do,” Felix murmured absently, still taking stock—or taking notes—of the room. “Remember?”
“Yeah, well. Now is not the fucking time, all right?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. Boss,” he hissed.
Ratchet turned to Skye. “You first, let’s go.”
“W-Where?”
“I’ll lift you out the window.”
“To him?” she pointed a shaking finger at Felix.
“Yes, and the others will follow.”
“Then what?” Janet asked, still looking like she’d toss again.
“We’ll take you to a safe place.”
“To Marlee?” Vegas asked, sounding for once hopeful.
“Yes,” Monster said.
She met Skye’s gaze, her eyes pleading. Skye nodded, tip-toeing to where Ratchet and Felix waited by the window.
; As they lifted the first doll to freedom, Nyla twisted to find Monster. “Where is Marlee? Where are we going?”
“Alley Cat headquarters.”
Her face paled. “You’re Alley Cats?”
Monster nodded.
“You work for Bastian.”
“Not anymore,” Felix snarled through the opening as he reached down to pull Janet up.
“He’ll know you helped us,” Nyla whispered this time. “He’ll know where to look. He will come for us. He will destroy us all.”
Monster snuck a glance at Vegas. Her face had become a mask of fear and she stared at Nyla, eyes so wide it seemed a miracle they were staying in her head. “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”
Monster put his face in front of hers to get her attention. The way he had in the hall earlier. “It’s okay. He won’t find you. Hear me? He won’t know.”
“How?”
“We’re pointing him in another direction,” Ratchet answered.
“Setting up the asshole Junkyard Dogs,” Felix added. “‘Bout damn time they got what was coming to ‘em.”
“It’s okay,” Monster told Vegas again, wishing his voice could be soft for her. But it just couldn’t. He was hard. And not used to reassuring females. Especially scared ones. Especially one that was his.
Eventually, she nodded. “Okay.”
She turned to the window. It was her turn. And Ratchet reached to lift her up to Felix. But a warning growl slipped past Monster’s mangled lips. Don’t touch her. Don’t touch mine.
Ratchet nodded, understanding in his grim expression, and stepped back allowing Monster to take his place.
Carefully, he hooked his hands around her small waist and hefted her up. She was so light he put too much force into it, and she caught herself on the window ledge to keep steady.
Damn it.
He felt his face flush hot but ignored it.
Felix grabbed Vegas’s arms and slid her farther up the wall. The warning rumble in Monster’s chest didn’t fade as he handed her off to their wicked leader. It felt like handing her to the fucking devil himself. And Felix knew it too, because he gave a devious smirk, taunting Monster with the idea that he could do anything to her with him and Ratchet stuck inside.
Monster glared. “Watch yourself.”
“I do what I want, cat. Don’t you know that yet? Or have you simply forgotten? Maybe I should take some of your skin.”
Monster’s gut cramped at the idea of a scourge. But worse was the feeling that he was forced to trust his female’s safety to the most dangerous among them.
“I’ll kill you if you let anything happen to her,” he warned. “Keep. Her. Safe.”
Felix narrowed his gaze but said nothing else.
“Now you,” Ratchet urged Nyla.
But she stood frozen in place, arms rigid at her sides, eyes wide, frown drawing up her lips.
“Seven.”
She shook her head slowly, finally meeting Monster’s scowl. “You said her name.”
“What?”
“One. You said her name. You called her Vegas. It’s on camera.”
Shit. Fuck.
She blinked, the wheels clearly turning in her mind. “He will know. He’ll know it’s you. No matter what breadcrumbs you leave leading away… he will know. You said her name.”
“What’s she talking about?” Ratchet asked.
But Monster was too busy cursing himself to hell for forgetting such an important detail. Fuck. Could he even keep Vegas safe if he kept fucking up like this?
“I…” Nyla was still thinking, coming up with a plan but hell if Monster could see a way to fix this. “I need to get to the control room. I can erase the video from there. But the guard...”
“What’s the hold up?” Felix called through the window.
“I’ll take her,” Ratchet told Monster, “After I claw you. And we’ll meet the others at the meeting spot.”
Monster shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. You won’t make it out with her. Fucking hell.”
Nyla was already moving toward the door. “I’ll make it fast.”
“Felix, change of plans,” Ratchet called up. “You and Fang and Smokes take the others to the drop-off. Me and Seven will meet you after we take care of things here.”
Felix eyed them. “Skittles won’t like this.”
Goddamn it. This didn’t feel right.
“I know,” Ratchet said darkly. “Now go. Hurry. Get the females to safety. I’ll be there soon.”
Felix gave an annoyed nod and then disappeared from the opening. Monster peered out, meeting Vegas’s troubled gaze. “It’s okay,” he mouthed. “Go.”
She gave him a single nod and vanished into the darkness. Monster’s heart beat triple-time watching her leave.
Soon, the new beast brewing beneath the surface purred. Soon you will be with mate.
Mate.
She was his, wasn’t she. His mate. And not just like the mates the Fathers took in the past. This was different. Not just someone to warm his bed and give him cubs. If she never did either of those things, she’d still be his. And he’d still put his life on the line for her.
She was the mate of his soul, some part of him inside that he’d lost contact with. A part he hardly recognized anymore, so foreign it was a stranger.
But he was growing more and more familiar with it every day.
Monster dragged his eyes away from the window.
There was only one thing left to do now.
“You ready?” Ratchet asked.
Monster nodded.
Ratchet ran a frustrated hand through his long hair. “Fuck, man. I don’t wanna do this.”
Nyla shuffled her feet by the door, impatient.
“You remember the codes to get out?” Monster asked.
“Yeah. Let’s get this over with.”
“Do it then. Go on. Pretend it’s a scourge. Take my skin.”
“That doesn’t fucking help,” Ratchet growled.
Monster opened his mouth to argue but pain sliced through him before the words left his lips.
Shit.
Ratchet drew back his arm leaving three gaping gashes stretched across Monster’s chest. Blood oozed from the wound, soaking the tattered pieces of his t-shirt.
Monster stared down at the wound, satisfied. Three across the chest. It was the mark of the Junkyard Dogs.
“Perfect,” he ground out. “Now go.”
Ratchet ran to enter the lock code.
“Wait,” Nyla objected. “Is… is he okay?”
Ratchet nodded. “Breadcrumbs, female. Leaving breadcrumbs. Now let’s take care of that video problem and get the fuck outta here.”
Chapter Eight
Vegas ran barefooted across the perfectly manicured yard with the other Dolls, following the three strange men that claimed to know Marlee. Damp grass pressed between her toes. Adrenaline and the scent of freedom urged her on even though her body was tired.
The three men looked nearly as rough as Monster did. Just without the scars. Or at least without as many of them.
The one who pulled her out the window had a small slash across one cheek barely visible in the moonlight. His eyes were cruel but he couldn’t be crueler than Bastian, could he?
A tall one with longish hair shaved on the sides, sported a beard so she couldn’t tell. An unlit cigarette hung from his lips and his jaw was set at that cruel angle she’d seen so many times.
The last one was cleaner cut, with a day-old beard and a trimmer hairstyle. But his septum was pierced and his lower lip too, with a scowl that took up his entire expression, making him seem just as hard as the others.
Vegas stumbled in the low light, nearly going to her knees. The one with the scar, Felix they’d called him, grabbed her arm to keep her upright, his fingers digging in hard.
“Careful, female. Ain’t dying tonight because of you, ya hear?”
She didn’t answer, just charged forward to the tree line at the edge of
Bastian’s property. There was a fence beyond. She knew from when Marlee planned her escape. How would they get over it? It was charged with electricity now. Another of Bastian’s attempts to keep the Dolls he had left from trying what she’d tried.
But they stopped when they got to the fence.
Skye and Janet collapsed on the ground breathing hard. Janet held her stomach like she was willing herself to keep from losing it again. Felix and the other two bent at the knees to catch their breath.
“What now?” whispered Vegas.
The one with the cigarette answered her. “Now we wait for the others. Fuck, Fang… ‘member when we never ran out of breath? When these fucking bodies could actually do things like they’re supposed to.”
“Shit… yeah,” the third one, Fang, answered. “Makes fucking like a beast harder these days but whatever. We get shit done.”
Vegas frowned at the pair and turned to find Janet wide-eyed.
“Are you going to hurt us too?” Janet said, sounding weary. But her gaze went right to Fang locking in on him like a warning. “Because tell me now, goddamn it. Tell me right fucking now. Because I can’t take another moment of this shit.”
And to solidify that statement she turned her head and heaved whatever was left in her stomach onto the ground.
Smokes crouched beside her. “Are you sick, woman?”
“She does this a lot,” Skye explained. “She has a weak stomach.”
Smokes’s eyes went dark. “A weakness,” he breathed almost to himself, but then he threw a hard glare at Skye. “Never say it out loud again. Never, understand?”
“Yes,” she agreed, looking terrified.
“Stand, female,” he told Janet when she’d finished. She clawed the ground, trying to gain traction, and finally managed to get to her feet when he reached down to help her. He shrugged off his ratted leather jacket and awkwardly pushed it around her shoulders. “Let’s get them over the fence.”
“What about Ratchet?” Felix drawled.
“It won’t hurt to get a head start, yeah?”
Felix raised a lazy eyebrow. “Sure. Whatever.”
“Nyla?” Vegas cleared her throat. “Seven.”