Sick Fux - Page 43

“Number one, darlin’. It’s perfect.”

“Yes!” she trilled, victorious, and faced forward in her seat again. “Time for tea,” she said, trying to look menacing. She didn’t do such a great job. She was too fucking beautiful for that. A corrupt angel . . . corrupted by me, agent of the devil himself.

The perfect pairing.

Dolly lowered her gun just as we passed the sign—Amarillo. The minute we hit the city limits, I felt the blood in my veins heat up and my flesh begin to twitch. The smell of hashish filled my nose even though there was none present. Just the thought of this fucker made me smell him, hear his grunt from behind me. I glanced across at Dolly, now brushing her doll-head’s raggedy hair, singing to herself. I wondered what the fat fucker did to her when I’d been gone. I could still hear his words echo through time from that night. I want them both together. I want to have them both at the same time.

Uncle Lester, the fat piece of shit who liked raping kids in pairs, gender not an issue. Well, the fucker was going to get his wish.

We’d been driving for a while to reach the Caterpillar’s hidden home. The Caterpillar, named from Wonderland because of his love of hashish—smoked from his treasured hookah.

Dolly had trained hard this past week. And she was a sight. Hit her mark with perfect aim, sliced her target with venom in her heart.

Killing perfection.

I’d never been so turned on as watching her fight. I wasn’t sure how I’d contain myself watching her make real kills.

Especially this pedophilic fucker, and any other cunts he had protecting him.

“How long now, Rabbit?” Dolly asked from the passenger seat. I saw our exit just ahead and drove onto the inconspicuous dirt road.

“No time at all.” I reached into my vest for my pocket watch. I ran my thumb over its face as we followed the road. When I saw the house in the distance, I pulled the Mustang into the cover of trees and killed the engine.

Dolly sat up in her seat, her eyes bright, her breathing fast. “Is this it, Rabbit?” She pointed at the terracotta roof up ahead. “Is this the home of the Caterpillar?”

“It is,” I confirmed through gritted teeth. I could feel the need to kill beginning to take its hold over me. I glanced at Dolly. She was looking at the house. Again, I thought of that fucker hurting her. I thought of how he hurt me.

And I really needed this fucker to die . . . in great pain.

I closed my eyes and visualized what I’d found out about “Uncle Lester” when I’d researched them all at Chapel’s home. “They’re all dispersed throughout Texas,” Chapel had said after receiving the intel from the private detective he’d hired. He wasn’t a normal PI, Chapel had informed me. But one that had worked for him for years. In not so . . . legal ways.

Uncle Lester had run to Amarillo after a kid they’d abused started to talk. The talk hit some ears that the “uncles” and Mr. Earnshaw had not wanted to reach. Some corrupt cop friend of theirs had buried the allegation as best he could. But they fled, separating, hiding away from those who might find out the truth and come looking . . .

Yet not one of the fuckers had stopped their fucked-up extracurricular activities. They had a shit-ton of money. They had many contacts with similar tastes. They could still do whatever and whoever the fuck they wanted.

Until I escaped the Water Tower and set in motion my plan to fuck with their idyllic lives. Me and my little Dolly. Blasts from their pasts they would never see coming.

Their worst nightmares made flesh.

“Are you ready, darlin’?” I asked. Dolly nodded her head, clutching her blue gun tightly.

I got out of the car and took my cane from the trunk. I straightened my cravat, rolled my shirt sleeves down my arms and put my suit jacket on. I fastened the buttons and turned to see Dolly watching me.

“So handsome.” I fought back a growl at those words coming from her lips. As she walked toward me, I couldn’t help but admire what she was wearing.

Perfection . . . until I saw those scars on her arms. The ones that she had given herself, in her deepest despair. Because of those assholes.

Because of the asshole inside this fucking terracotta-roofed house.

“Get your blade, darlin’,” I said and stepped back from the trunk. Dolly pulled it from her waist belt. She gripped the handle and met my eyes.

“I’m ready,” she declared and nodded for emphasis. She was small, but in that moment she was a fucking warrior. The champion of Wonderland.

“Stay by my side,” I said as we fell into step. I walked us through the trees. The recon on the Caterpillar showed that he had hired help. Bodyguards to protect him from anyone who might want to seek revenge for being fucked as a kid.

Tags: Tillie Cole Erotic
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