Doll Face: A Doll Face Novel (The Doll Face Series Book 1)

by Sadie Grubor

  Reaching out, I grip the edges of the metal table. My fingers slip on the blood running over the edge.

  "Mei?" his voice softens. "It's okay," he assures.

  Looking up and meeting his eyes, I find something I never thought I'd see. Pity. And in this moment, I know it's something I never wanted to see there.

  "It's okay?" I ask sullenly.

  "It will be." His words are like a command for the universe to fix everything broken inside me, but it's too late for that.

  Grabbing the gun from the table, I aim it at his chest.

  "Mei," he warns. "Put the gun down."

  "Another man, another order." The Geisha's words float into my ears like a seduction for the darkest parts of me.

  "I'll deal with you soon enough," Saint promises.

  "She saved me," I tell him.

  The hard, determined look on his face doesn't change.

  "For her own gain, I'm sure," he counters. "You can't trust her, Mei."

  In my peripheral, I see Russ and Vincent descend the basement stairs. Guns pulled, they have them trained on me.

  This time, The Geisha's voice comes from farther behind me. "When they can't control their pet…" she practically sings, "punishments happen," she ends in a rougher voice.

  "Shut the fuck up," Saint yells before redirecting to me. "She's a liar and monster. It's just a game for her, Mei."

  "My name is not Mei!" I shout.

  Saint's head jerks back, almost as if I slapped him.

  "Don't you see," I cry, gripping the gun tighter. "There were never monsters under my bed." A solo tear slips over my blood-stained face. "No, they stood in bright daylight. They sat at the dinner table, tucked you into bed, called you daughter." Curling the right side of my mouth, I snort. "They dress you up, call you their doll, and make you think that shit is normal," I shout, holding the gun steadily on his chest.

  "He gave me dolls, Saint," I confess. "I played with them. I believed they were toys, my toys, I taunted them and made them cry for not playing the way I wanted."

  Realization spreads across his face, widening his eyes.

  "Finally, you're catching on," I exclaim. "I remember all my doll's names, their clothes, the way each had a different scent, and that my favorites could blink," I sigh. "I even remember how some of them were made. And where I should feel disgust and horror, I feel fondness and peace in my childhood memories."

  Allowing my eyes to fall out of focus for just a moment, I finish on a whisper, "I was created, just like one of these damn dolls," I scream, using my free hand to motion to Candy's body. "And my creator unleashed his monsters years ago." I glance to the man dying on the table in front of me.

  "The one created to do his bidding, persuaded by the promise of his very own specially designed doll," I inform, using the barrel of the gun to point at my chest. "He honestly believed I was made for him alone," I snort. "But he didn't count on the doll maker wanting to keep the special doll locked away in a special room all for him, just like his first precious doll."

  "Your mother," Saint says, not asking, but confirming.

  I nod.

  "Sound familiar, Saint," I taunt. "Locking me away, his possession, his doll."

  Slowly, I bring the gun to my temple.

  "Dahlia, don't," Saint orders, using my true name. The name encompassing all the horrible deeds I've done.

  "I can feel it deep inside, clawing against my ribs and squeezing the air from my lungs, refusing to be locked away."

  Everything inside me twists and convulses, the need to succumb to the evil becoming too much.

  "Release it, Dahlia," he demands, parting his feet and straightening to his full height. He doesn't advance, instead broadening his chest and stretching his arms out at his sides.

  Dropping my arm and the gun from my head, I lock eyes with him and my mouth parts in surprise. He's making himself my target.

  "I've done horrible things," he confesses, "and that includes the things I've done to you."

  Furrowing my brow in confusion, more tears begin streaming over my cheeks.

  "My obsession with you and all the lies brought this misery back into your life," he says, taking the blame for something as inevitable as my descent into hell.

  "This is your chance," The Geisha urges. "Your freedom from all of it, all of them."

  "Shut up!" I shout over my shoulder, silencing her. "You're no better than them."

  While distracted by her, Saint steps toward me. I lift the gun, aiming for his chest.

  "Stop," I demand, shaking my head. "Don't," I warn, knowing if he gets too close I'll succumb to him like always.

  He pauses.

  "Your father was the monster in our past. He," he nods to Andy, "was the monster of your present. But, I'm the monster in your bed, Dahlia," Saint explains.

  The truth of the words hits me like a battering ram to the chest.

  "In the end, the monster always gets what it wants," I whisper.

  "Exactly," he growls, lunging for the gun in my hand.

  Before he can, I pull the trigger. The bullet finds its target, stopping him a foot away from reaching me. Red blossoms at the center of his dress shirt. Glancing down, his hand instinctually moves to the wound. Bringing his eyes back up to mine, he reaches out with the bloody hand and cups my face.

  No. No. No!

  "I forgive you, dead girl," he says around the blood forming at the corners of his mouth.

  My head throbs, like it's being split in two, and a shrill scream fills the room. My scream.

  A broken heart must be what death sounds like.

  He collapses to the floor and the room erupts. Gunshots echo off the cement walls and a sharp burn starts in my left arm before I drop behind the table for coverage. When I do, I catch The Geisha's black form slipping through a door I hadn't noticed.

  Crawling under the table with Candy on it, I follow her. Once through the door, I yank it shut and lock it. Spinning, I find her climbing through a small basement window. Two sets of hands grip her arms, hauling her out.

  Rushing to them, I grab her leg, preventing her escape.

  She kicks and twists, her foot making contact with my jaw. The force of the hit causes me to release her and I stumble to the wall for support. The moment the pounding starts on the door, I push toward her again.

  The Geisha is gone, but a small black backpack hangs from the corner.

  "Mei!" This time, it's Sketch.

  Then there's a loud thump against the door. Shoving an old desk across the floor, I hope to slow them down. Knowing if they get in here, I'm dead, because I killed Saint.

  My chest aches and tears fill my eyes.

  The door starts to buckle at the next hit.

  Wiping at my eyes, I push a chair beneath the window, grab the backpack, and climb out. The metal frame hurts my fingers and scrapes my shin, but I successfully pull myself to freedom. Cold air whips around me, making me shiver.

  The sound of a helicopter lures me around the corner of the house. It hovers a couple feet from the ground and The Geisha grabs the bottom, pulling herself up.

  Gripping the side of the aircraft, she turns and spots me. I lift her bag in the air, and she stills before giving a slight bow of her head. Then, they're gone.

  Commotion comes from the front of the house and I run to the barn. Inside, I rush to the large open crate and glance down into it once more. Entire body shaking, I climb in, burrow into the packaging straw, and tug the butterfly doll over me.

  It takes hours before I'm sure they're gone. And when I'm sure, I sob. Loudly and freely.

  Saint

  "Which one of you shot her?" I rasp around the pain in my chest.

  "You need to rest," Jacob scolds from the chair next to my hospital bed.

  "I need to find her," I correct.

  "She shot you," Vincent snaps.

  Turning my glare on him, I clench my jaw.

  "It wasn't him," Sketch says, and my eyes flash to him.

&nbs
p; "I only tried to slow her, disable her," he continues.

  "I'll kill you," I say around a cough, and add, "After you find her."

  "Fine. Just do as Jacob says," he concedes.

  Tossing the white sheet off my body, I push up.

  "For Christ's sake, Dante," Jacob exclaims. "You had surgery two days ago to remove a bullet from your chest—you know, the one that almost pierced your heart."

  "I'm," I groan, sitting up and throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, "well aware."

  "Get your ass in that bed or I'll kill you myself," Jacob threatens, pulling his jacket back to reveal he's strapped.

  An eerie silence falls over the room.

  "The likelihood of you finding her anytime soon isn't great, Dante," he explains. "Didn't you listen to anything they told you about the helicopter?"

  "Sir," Russ interjects, "I don't know where else she would've gone or how she'd get away without having been on that chopper."

  Falling back into the bed, I rub a hand over my face.

  I refuse to believe Mei willingly followed that crazy bitch. Then again, she seemed to be playing Mei really well when I arrived.

  Not surprised she knew exactly where to find Mei, I hadn't expected her to be in that basement with her. Now, I can only wonder at the reason she was there. What does she have to gain?

  "She wouldn't have gone with The Geisha." When I say it out loud, I believe I'm right.

  "You don't know that," Sketch argues. "None of us expected to find that house…like that," he sneers in disgust. "We have no idea how fucked up that girl reall—"

  A chime cuts him off, his eyes widening. Reaching inside his jacket, he pulls out a cell phone and focuses on the screen.

  "What is it?" I press, annoyed.

  "Nothing," he clips, slipping it back into the jacket.

  It chimes again, and I lift a brow.

  "It doesn't have anything to do with Mei," he assures.

  "Then what does it have to do with, Maurizio?"

  His forehead creases and mouth thins.

  "I've got a knife and a basement," I warn.

  "Someone's researching me," he says.

  Dropping my scowl, I stare, waiting for an explanation.

  "I have algorithms set up on myself, just like you and everyone else," he explains. "It gives me a heads up before something heads our way. I ramped them up, made them more complicated after those cops showed unexpectedly."

  I nod, urging him to continue.

  "Right now, all I know, is my name has suddenly become popular," he concludes.

  "No matter what it is," I start, rubbing my chest, "it won't touch you."

  Wincing at a sharp pain shooting from behind my rib to right shoulder, I clench my eyes shut and teeth tight.

  "That's it." Jacob steps forward, pressing two buttons on my IV machine.

  The drugs move quickly, turning the room fuzzy and taking away the pain.

  "Find me The Geisha," I mumble.

  Then, the world falls away.

  Two weeks, they forced me to stay in the hospital. Upon my release, every member of our syndicate sent gifts of well wishes or delivered them in person. The penthouse has become a revolving door of people. None of them the one I need.

  I'm back where I started. Searching, waiting, tortured by every minute that goes by.

  Unable to sleep, I stand at the bar in the penthouse. The Vodka Tonic in my tumbler glass goes untouched, deciding to drink directly from the liquor bottle instead. Watching the tonic bubbles float to the top, my mind plays the scene on repeat.

  We'd found her sister at the dining room table when we first arrived and followed the trail of blood streaks to a bedroom straight out of a horror movie. All the dolls, pink, bows, lace, and blood. So much blood.

  At first, when I found her standing between two dead bodies laid out on metal tables, I wasn't sure what was going on. The uncertainty, unknowing, only escalated the helplessness I'd felt watching her breakdown in front of me.

  Her eyes told me so much, but without all the information, like the man on the table being her brother and the other body a girl from the strip club, I hadn't quite gotten her inner struggle. The battle she was waging between what she believes is good and bad. I played the whole scene wrong and paid the price once more—losing her, again.

  Lifting the clear bottle to my lips, I tilt my head back and drink.

  The hairs on my arms raise and the back of my neck prickles with awareness. Slamming the bottle down on the bar, the weight of eyes on my back almost as heavy as the one in my chest. The air in the room changes, charging with something different than Jacob or Sketch being in the room.

  "Are you going to continue hiding or try to finally kill me?" I ask.

  "Who's hiding?" she counters in her familiar muffled voice. "Though, it is disappointing to find you breathing."

  Twisting around, I swear for a moment I see Mei standing on the stairs. Blinking, the tall lithe women comes into focus. The Geisha stands on the same step Mei once stood frozen.

  "I want her back," I inform, not wanting to play her games or hear riddles.

  "You want something," she says, moving back to a more natural pose. "And what you want has something I want."

  Translations:

  (Japanese) Kanojo wa tōchaku suru: She Arrives

  (Japanese) Yameru: Stop!

  (Japanese) Kare wa sugu ni shinudarou." Her eyes move to me, and she finishes, "Ichido kore wa kare ga naniwoshita ka o shiru: He'll die soon enough. Once this one finds out what he's done.

  (Japanese) Minagoroshi ni suru: Kill them all!

  Sadie Grubor

  Sadie Grubor is a Haribo Gummy Candy Whore & a foul-mouthed writer of smexy times and characters who typically have immature and inappropriate humor. Yes, this is a reflection of her. She can only hope you respect her in the morning, but doesn't expect it.

  At some point, she may offend you. Yes, she realizes this and owns it. Trying to change this outcome has proved futile in the past. It's best to just let her trashy mouth weed out the classy folk. Everyone is better off that way.

  Sadie's darker side: V Fiorello

  Where bad guys deserve love.

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  "Through discipline and talent, a geisha will emerge."

  A woman in a Yakuza crime lord’s world, her business was to sell a dream---of attraction, seduction, and devotion to the wealthiest and most powerful men in Japan. But behind the painted face and silk robes lay the blackest of hearts, the darkest deceiver, and stealthiest of assassins.

  Born into a world of fear and lies, The Geisha has created a life of revenge. She has been molded into the perfect killer, the embodiment of her life and circumstance. The Geisha has one weakness she will stop at nothing to reclaim, even recruiting help from a man she wishes death. A man

  Once upon a time, being a geisha was one of the few ways a woman of "common birth" could achieve wealth, status and fame. Now, The Geisha is one of the few Yakuza members no man, or woman, wants to at any cost.

  HER name strikes fear in those brave enough to speak it.

  HER presence causes panic for those unlucky enough to be in it.

  But not HIM.

  HE isn't afraid of her.

  HE won't leave her alone.

 
HE has a death wish SHE is more than happy to grant.

  (After he's served his purpose.)

  Coming 2018

  The Doll Face Series (writing as V Fiorello – dark erotic)

  Doll Face

  Book 2 – TBA – Tentative Release February/March 2018

  Falling Stars Series (contemporary)

  Falling Stars

  Stellar Evolution (a Falling Stars novella)

  Hidden in the Stars (a Falling Stars novel) book 2

  Stellar Collision (a Falling Stars novella)

  Snare (a Falling Stars novel) book 3

  Refrain & Reprise (a Falling Stars novella – standalone)

  **Coming soon….. Book 4 in the series **

  Modern Arrangements Trilogy (contemporary)

  Save the Date

  Here Comes the Bride

  Happily Ever Addendum

  Terms and Conditions

  Stand Alones: (contemporary)

  Live-In-Position

  All Grown Up

  VEGAS follows you home