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The Expert (Bad Babygirls #3)
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I control everything about her life… she just doesn’t know it.
This is a dark romance daddy dom series. There are no sweet hugs and kisses from these domineering daddies. Note: This is part of a continuing series and not a stand-alone.
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Quinn – Five years ago.
I can’t stop thinking about her eyes.
That was how I knew my sister was dead.
Her sightless eyes.
There was also the silence.
It wasn’t just no longer hearing the sound of her bouncing down the stairs or the way she snorted when she laughed too hard. It was a silence which went beyond the grip of death. The silence of suicide. Just that word seemed to silence everyone’s good memories of Julie. It silenced the funny stories which would have allowed her to live on. My own mother wouldn’t even mention Julie’s name.
Death hadn’t silenced Julie: her suicide had.
It had also silenced me.
I had always been the shy one compared to Julie. She was just so vibrant and full of life and confidence. Even after our father died in that plane crash and we learned our lives would never be the same, she had never wavered in her positive attitude.
But now Julie was gone in the most horrible way imaginable.
And all that remained was the silence… and the ache of unanswered questions.
Was this my fault?
Did I miss a cry for help?
Why did she leave me?
Since that very moment, it was almost as if I were floating under water. The conversations around me were just a garbled hum. Everything was wavy and distorted, nothing seemed real. I didn’t feel anger or even sadness… I just felt numb. The shock of her death I suppose. I could feel myself retreating further and further into my own darkness, retreating from the harsh reality of my life. Was this how Julie truly felt moments before she drank that bleach? As if a dark cloud were slowly wrapping around her? Strangling her?
Who knows how far down that tunnel I would have retreated if it hadn’t been for Piper, Lyla and Mary.
All three had rushed in to fill the vacuum left by Julie’s death.
They broke the terrible silence.
They filled it with stories and memories, with laughter and tears… and with thoughts of revenge.
All other weaker emotions cowered against the encroaching darkness but not revenge.
Revenge was stronger, sharper, more defined.
It shone like a bright beacon, powered by anger.
While sadness and recriminations snatched at my ankles, trying to draw me deeper and deeper under water, it was revenge that pulled me to the surface. It was the fire of anger that breathed life back into my sore lungs.
There was no purpose for me in grief. Just an endless stream of days and years ahead without my beautiful sister.
Revenge gave me a purpose.
The Julie I knew and loved would never have committed suicide. No. There was an unseen hand guiding her. David. The man who stole the light from her eyes.
I didn’t care if people wouldn’t agree with me. I didn’t care about those who would say that murder is wrong. Since her death we have learned some despicable, evil things about David. Julie wasn’t the first girl he had ruined with his predatory ways. She wasn’t even the youngest. Not by a far margin. He had crushed the young innocence of at least three other girls.
And tonight, we were going to put an end to it.
I wasn’t sure what I was going to do after tonight. I wasn’t even sure if the darkness would return. Would I once more sink under water? Maybe.
But at least for tonight, I wasn’t going to be my shy, hesitant self.
Tonight, I was Julie.
The sound of a car door closing muffled the slight vibration of my phone.
It was a text from Mary.
“They’re here,” I said, angry at the slight quiver to my voice.
“Lyla, you take the flashlight. You know what to do,” ordered Piper. She was definitely the leader of our little group. Piper was always the one with the plan or solution to a problem.
“But you’re taller,” complained Lyla.
“I have the gun to worry about,” fired back Piper in a hushed whisper.
Suddenly, I could hear muffled voices approaching the house.
“Fuck! We forgot to relock the door,” said Piper.
“Language, Piper,” admonished Lyla.
We had just broken into a house with the intent of murdering a man, but even that was no excuse for guttural language in Lyla’s book. I was just a tiny bit jealous of Lyla’s poise and grace. She was like our own Grace Kelly. Always fashionable. Always in control. Always the lady. She even looked the part with her pale skin and long icy blonde hair.
I watched as Piper crawled across the floor. Reaching out, she locked the door just in time.
There was a fumbling of a key then the front door swung open to give me my first glance of the man who’d ruined my sister’s life.
“Welcome to my home,” said David.
The acrid burn of bile rose up in the back of my throat.
My vision blurred as tears pooled in my eyes. I could hear him talk and Mary’s thin responses but wasn’t really listening. All I could think about was Julie and her wide open sightless eyes.