The Pretty Little Dolls Series by K Webster

Author:K Webster [Webster, Ker Dukey and K]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: The Complete Set
Publisher: K Webster
Published: 2018-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Three Years Ago

My father always made sure I was prepared when the time came I’d need to make changes—the time to get away. Being who I was came with consequences and risk.

Pulling myself from the grass, my skin protests, shrinking over my bones. I’m a mess, and I need help.

Seeking it out irks me, but my life just disintegrated in front of my eyes—literally.

My father was compromised, so going to this place could lead me into cuffs matching his, but it’s a gamble I’m going to have to take. I have nowhere else. There shouldn’t be any reason why my father would give them an asset, and according to my father, that’s what this person is.

I begin walking a couple miles west from where my home once stood and venture just into the brush where the tree is carved with a letter B. Eventually, I locate the rock marked with a small indentation of the same letter, and I set to removing it from the dirt. The chill in the air nips at the exposed, torched flesh on my arm and shoulder. The gunshot wound is nothing in comparison to smelling your own skin cook. My body shakes without permission, my eyes clouding as I dig, my nails splitting as I scratch at the dry dirt.

Relief coaxes a sigh from my lips when the leather handle from the satchel strokes the tips of my fingers. Yanking it free, I collapse, breathing hard.

I need water.

Gathering the strength to sit up, I pull the zipper and look inside. Bills stacked in bundles of thousands stare back at me.

Thirty thousand won’t suffice for the long term, but it’s a start.

The card sitting on top makes my skin vibrate.

I’m not used to needing people or having to rely on them, but times are changing. This change has been forced upon me by my dirty little doll.

The burner cell has the number already saved inside and the card simply reads: TANNER

One hand hits dial while the other grips the grass, squeezing until my damaged fingernails cut into the palm.

The dial tone ticks, then it’s ringing.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

“What name do you have?” a woman asks.

“Tanner,” I croak back, the damage to my body taking its toll.

“Please hold.”

Fucking music plays down the line.

What the hell?

I stand alone, a voice croons, surrounded by guitar riffs. How ironic the lyric is to me.

The music cuts off and a male voice comes over the line.

“Where are you?” His tone is deep and calm. He speaks with a manner akin to that of friends having a casual catch up call. “I’ll send a car to pick you up, but I need to know where you are.”

“I’m two or three miles from my house…”

The call drops before I can give him the address.

I don’t like it, but my body is weakening and the darkness of night steals my consciousness.

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