Toy: Original Sin Book 3

  Toy

  Original Sin Book 3

  Stella Hart

  Copyright © 2019 by Stella Hart

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  1. Jolie

  2. Jolie

  3. Mason

  4. Mason

  5. Jolie

  6. Mason

  7. Mason

  8. Mason

  9. Jolie

  10. Mason

  11. Mason

  12. Jolie

  13. Mason

  14. Jolie

  15. Mason

  16. Jolie

  17. Jolie

  Epilogue

  Also by Stella Hart

  Sneak Peek of Wild Elite

  1

  Jolie

  “Don’t leave me!” I cried. “Please!”

  Mason’s eyes were closed now, and his face was blanched. The blood kept flowing thickly out of his body, seeping through my fingers no matter how much pressure I put on it.

  Keeping one hand firmly on the wound, I felt around for his pulse and found it thready and weak. He was still alive, but he wouldn’t stay that way for much longer. “Please,” I whimpered. “Stay with me.”

  “Miss? Can you hear me?” A tinny voice echoed from somewhere to my right. I looked down to see my cell phone lying on the ground. In all my panic, I’d forgotten I dialed 911 and screamed something at the operator about Mason being shot.

  I reached over and put it on loudspeaker with my free hand. “Help me,” I said, my voice weak and laced with terror. I’d never felt so powerless and useless.

  “I have your location, and I’m going to stay on the line with you,” the operator said. “Help is on its way. Try to stay calm.”

  “I can’t. He’s dying,” I choked out. I’d gone through a lot in my life, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the horror of watching the life ebb from the man I loved. The sheer hopelessness tore at my soul, rendering me hollow and numb. I couldn’t even cry now. The tears seemed to have frozen on my face.

  “Are you still applying pressure?”

  “Yes, but it won’t stop bleeding!”

  “Don’t be afraid to use your knee,” the operator said. “That will help you lean on it as hard as you can.”

  “Okay.”

  I pulled my hands away so I could do what he suggested. The blood flowed out even more in those few seconds, sticky and hot as it coated everything in red. Despite the warmth and color, everything seemed chillingly gray to me. I couldn’t stop picturing Mason’s gravestone, granite and cold.

  “No,” I whispered, more to myself than him. “Please don’t die.”

  As I crouched over him, doing everything the operator told me to while I waited for the ambulance, I replayed the last half hour in my mind over and over.

  It was my fault. If I had just hit Tom right in the face or chest when I pulled the trigger earlier, none of this would’ve happened. Instead I missed by a long shot, and that set everything else in motion. Tom tried to shoot me and got Mason instead as he jumped in the bullet’s path, trying to keep me safe.

  He’d convinced himself he was a monster for a long time, but his actions clearly demonstrated otherwise. What sort of monster would jump in front of a gun to save someone else?

  “See?” I murmured, staring down at Mason’s pale face as I thought out loud. “I knew you were still a good man, even if you didn’t believe it.”

  The sound of crunching on gravel pulled my gaze up for a second. Through the window, I could see an ambulance and several police cars tearing down the rain-soaked driveway.

  “You’re going to be okay,” I whispered, even though it wasn’t something I could realistically promise. “Just hold on a little longer.”

  Mason’s right hand suddenly shot up, grabbing my left wrist. “Jolie,” he mumbled, eyelids fluttering as he tried to look at me.

  Stinging tears flooded my eyes again. “I’m here,” I said. “The ambulance is almost here too. Just hold on. Promise me you’ll hold on.”

  He nodded and dropped his hand, eyes drifting shut again. I wasn’t sure if he’d actually comprehended what I said, but I knew I had to try to keep my hope alive and dispel all the morbid gravestone images from my head. I chose to believe he understood and was trying as hard as possible to cling to life, just to keep that promise.

  The next hour or so was a dazed blur. I didn’t recall anyone pulling me away from Mason so the paramedics could work on him and take him away in the ambulance, and I didn’t recall anyone helping to clean me up. At some point I simply noticed with faint surprise that I was sitting on the couch with a brown blanket wrapped around my shoulders and a warm cup of tea in my freshly-washed hands.

  I barely remembered telling the police what happened when they asked me, either, though I knew I did, and I barely registered the buzzing voices and activity around me as forensic personnel photographed the scene and bagged whatever might be considered as evidence. All I could concentrate on was the pool of blood several feet away. There was so much. Too much. How could anyone survive that?

  It suddenly occurred to me that if anyone could survive such an event, it was Mason.

  “Jolie?”

  I looked up at the sound of the familiar voice. Detective Beck was standing close, holding out another cup of tea. “Thank you,” I murmured.

  She sat down next to me. “How are you feeling?” she asked with a gentle smile.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know how to answer that, to be honest,” I said listlessly.

  “I understand. It’s a real shock to the system.”

  “Yeah.” I glanced at her, knitting my brows. “What are you doing here?” I asked. Before she could respond, I shook my head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude. I just didn’t expect to see you,” I added.

  She smiled faintly again. “It’s okay, you sounded fine. I know it’s not exactly my jurisdiction, but when your name suddenly popped up on my computer in connection with a shooting at an Ashwood residence, I headed down here as fast as I could.”

  “Oh.” I looked ahead of me as I warmed my hands on the side of the mug. Someone was snapping photographs of the bullet I shot into the skylight earlier. Even though it wasn’t all that long ago, it somehow felt like a strange, distant memory.

  It all did, come to think of it. It was like my brain simply refused to accept that such a terrible incident had actually happened today, only a few feet away.

  “What were you doing out here?” Beck asked. “Before this happened.”

  “Well, as you know, Mason and I are friends. I came to visit.”

  She scooted a little closer. “It’s a long way to drive just to catch up with a friend,” she said. Her voice was low, but she didn’t sound overly suspicious. More concerned than anything else.

  “I guess.” I looked away, back toward the pool of blood.

  “We were just discussing Mason this morning during your interview. Is that a coincidence?”

  I let out an exhausted sigh. “Yes. I mostly came to visit so I could collect some stuff for my fish tank back in the city. I accidentally left some of it here,” I said, pointing to the other side of the living room. The large aquarium Mason had set up for Buddy a few weeks ago was still sitting there.

  “I see. Sorry, Jolie, I’m just trying to understand all of this. I was only speaking to you about Mason a few hours ago, and the next thing I know, you’re out here at his vacation house and he’s been shot.”

  “It’s f
ine. I get it,” I said. I flashed her a weak smile. “I bet you feel pretty silly right now, huh?”

  She arched a brow. “Why do you say that?”

  I gestured over to Tom’s body, which was currently being loaded onto a gurney by two beefy men for transport to the morgue. “Because you were wrong. You thought there was no way any of the men from the Path of the Covenant could still be alive.”

  She hesitated. “Well, we still don’t know anything for sure.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “We don’t know if that was actually Tom Anderson,” she said, nodding toward the gurney as one of the guys zipped up the enormous black and white body bag they’d strapped to it. “His face was basically destroyed in the altercation, and that makes identification very difficult. He’s never been arrested before, either, so his fingerprints aren’t in the system. We’ll have to identify him through DNA instead, via a close relative, and that could take a few weeks.”

  “I told you it was Tom,” I said flatly. “Why isn’t my word enough?”

  Beck patted my shoulder. “It’s not that it isn’t enough. It’s just that there’s protocol to follow. It doesn’t matter how much we believe you. We still need to know beyond a shadow of doubt who the body belongs to.”

  “Right.” I looked over at the spot where Tom had lain until a few seconds ago. All that was left now was another pool of dark blood with a few grisly bits and pieces floating here and there. “Will Mason get in trouble for what he did?”

  Beck rubbed her chin. “From what you said to the officer who spoke to you before, it sounds like he was trying to defend you, right?”

  I nodded vehemently. “Yes. Tom was about to shoot me and kidnap me for my father. Mason jumped in front of the gun and tackled him to the floor. Tom tried to fight him off, but Mason overpowered him, even with the bullet lodged in his gut.”

  “Well, given that fact, I think he’ll be okay. All the head-smashing might’ve been a bit of overkill, but I doubt he’ll catch any charges in the end. Especially once we confirm that man really was Tom from the old cult, and he was here to either kidnap or kill you.”

  My shoulders slumped with relief. If Mason survived his injuries, the last thing he needed was to get carted off to jail for simply saving my life.

  “I do have some other questions for you, though,” Beck continued. “In regard to Mason.”

  “What?”

  “When I arrived, I had a quick look around here with some of the local officers.”

  My heart sank. “Oh,” I said lightly. I had a feeling I already knew what she was going to say.

  “There’s a room down one of those halls which looks a lot like the Penance Rooms back at the New Eden commune. Stone walls, racks, chains and so on. There’s also a door down another hall with a serious electronic locking system on it. We can’t get it open to see what’s behind it, but something tells me it’s not exactly a wine cellar. Are you aware of any of this?”

  I put my head in my hands. I should’ve known they’d go through the whole house. It was a crime scene, after all. “Yes.”

  “How do you explain it?”

  I chewed on my bottom lip as I mulled over my options. “Look, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t entirely honest with you before,” I finally said, staring at my blood-splattered shoes.

  Beck’s forehead wrinkled. “How so?”

  I looked up again. “Mason and I aren’t just friends. We’re…” I hesitated. “I guess you could say we’re lovers.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Lovers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, thanks for the honesty, but what does that have to do with what I was saying?” she asked.

  “It’s relevant, trust me,” I said softly. “That room you were talking about—Mason built it for me.”

  “Why on earth would he do that?”

  I tried my best to fake a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t know if it’s some sort of throwback to the way I was raised, but I have some tastes that you might consider to be…” I felt my face flush. “Different.”

  “What?” Beck’s eyes widened incredulously. “Are you saying Mason went to the trouble of designing and building a replica of the Penance Rooms at New Eden as part of some sort of… kink? All for your benefit?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed hard and concentrated on my shoes again.

  “If you two are that serious about each other, to the point where he’d spend that much money and go to that much effort to please you, why did you both claim to simply be friends? Why did you continually lie to me and hide the fact that you’re actually lovers?”

  I licked my dry lips. “We just worry that people will think it’s weird. Age difference and all.”

  “You’re twenty-six and he’s thirty-five. Bit of an age gap, sure, but most people would still find it relatively acceptable. I’d hardly consider that a valid reason to lie to a detective.”

  “Well, it’s not just that,” I said. “The way we met makes things kind of strange too. So we figured we’d hide it until we’re ready to tell everyone. I’m sorry for lying, okay?”

  Beck let out a long sigh. “Are you still lying to me now?” she finally asked.

  “No.” I shook my head indignantly.

  “Jolie, that room down the hall is clearly a torture chamber. There’s knives and whips and all sorts of other torture instruments.”

  “I know, but it’s an exact replica. That’s what they had at New Eden. I wanted it to look the same and feel the same. To me, those things are just... toys.”

  “I see,” she said stiffly. “Has Mason ever hurt you with any of these toys?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek until the metallic taste of blood rolled around my mouth. “Not in the way you’re thinking,” I finally replied.

  Beck’s gaze turned steely. She knew I was lying again, but she couldn’t prove it. “So he’s never been violent with you?”

  “No.”

  I wished she would stop asking about this subject, but she wasn’t that kind of person. Once she sank her teeth into an idea, she obviously wasn’t keen to let it go. Especially when she sensed deep down that she was right. And she was. Mason had hurt me in the past. He’d done every single thing she thought he was guilty of. I just couldn’t tell her why, or try to convince her that he was forgiven. She wouldn’t understand.

  “So he didn’t take you and carve that letter into your stomach to mark you as his property, or anything like that?” she asked, still not relenting.

  I shook my head. “Why are you still asking me about all of this? You already know who took me. It had to be the men from the Path of the Covenant,” I said, setting my teacup down on a nearby coffee table. “They’re clearly back, just like I told you. They’re the real criminals. So why aren’t you focusing on finding them? Why are you still acting like Mason is the only one who deserves your suspicion?”

  “Because nothing about any of this has added up to me from the very start,” Beck replied. “And as you may have noticed, I don’t like to settle for convenient answers. The cult may very well be alive and kicking out there, and it may very well have been your father who ordered Tom Anderson to take you hostage today. But I still don’t think it was them who took you in November.”

  “Right.”

  “I know you don’t like me very much, Jolie, but I wish you’d at least understand that I’m trying to help. Someone hurt you very badly, and I want that person to face justice. That’s all.”

  “I never said I don’t like you, Detective,” I said, my face softening as guilt roiled in my guts. “And I do understand that you want to help. All I’m saying is that you’re barking up the wrong tree. Mason is a good person.”

  “Are you sure about that?” she asked, forehead creasing.

  “Yup.”

  She sighed again. “All right. If you say so.”

  “He is,” I insisted. “You know what happened to his family, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then y
ou know how much he’s lost. How much he’s suffered. Not only was his family horribly murdered, he was blown up in his own car. He could’ve turned into a total monster after all that, but he didn’t.” I shook my head slightly. “I guess he’s a bit dark and twisty, but he still had it in him to jump in front of a bullet to save me today. Does that sound like a bad guy to you? Does that sound like a guy who wants to see me hurt?”

  “I suppose not,” Beck said reluctantly, pressing her lips into a thin line.

  “Well, there you go. Whatever it is you think you know about Mason Ashwood, you don’t. Trust me,” I said. I stood up. “I’m going to go and ask the officers if I can go to the hospital so I can be with him. I still don’t even know if he’s going to make it.”

  “Of course. You should go,” she said with a nod. Before I stepped away, she patted my arm. “But if you ever want to talk about anything—”

  I nodded and cut her off. “I’ll call you if I have anything else to say.”

  I dropped the blanket and walked away, still wearing clothes soaked in blood. Blood which would’ve been my own if it weren’t for Mason.

  “You really love him, don’t you?” Beck called after me. “No matter what he’s done to you.”

  I gritted my teeth and turned around. “You have no idea.”

  2

  Jolie

  “Rise and shine!”

  Mason groaned as he stirred. “What time is it?”

  I smiled and set a tray of breakfast foods down on the bedside table. “It’s after two, but I didn’t want to wake you yet. You looked peaceful.”

  “Is that bacon?” he asked, covering a yawn.

  I nodded. “Bacon, eggs, toast, fried tomatoes. I hope that’s okay.”