Page 66 of The Dollhouse

The threat served its purpose, although I would argue it wasn’t a threat; more like a promise. Bryan’s skin paled, and he swallowed as he looked between us. “What—” He got to his feet, but Carter strode over to him, and with one harsh shove, pushed him back into his seat. “Touch me again, and I’ll call the police,” he hissed.

Carter only laughed, while I smirked and said, “Things might be different where you come from, but around here, I work with the police a lot. They don’t ride high horses around here; they like to get as dirty as everyone else.”

Bryan frowned at me, trying to act tough.

I ran a hand along my jaw. “We could always call them. There is no one who can set up a crime scene better than a man in blue, after all. Would you rather go down for drug possession or something else? I’m sure if I ask nicely, they’ll take requests.”

This time he did not address me; this time Bryan spoke to Zoey, “What the hell, Zoey? What is this?”

Zoey said nothing, though she did look stunned at everything I said. Well, if she wanted to be mine, sooner or later she’d have to get dirty, to learn exactly what it was I did. Who better to do that with than her ex, who clearly refused to let her go on with her life?

“I’ll tell you what this is,” I said, sitting up enough to reach in the back of my suit, in the waistband of my pants, beneath my shirt. “This is your last mistake, Bryan Oakes. I know you were fucking Zoey’s sister for months behind her back, and I know how badly you hurt her. I planned on letting you live, but now that you’re here, now that I see your hideous fucking self, I’ve decided I can’t let you walk out of here.”

My fingers curled around cold metal, and I brought it out, setting it on the small table between us. A nine-millimeter Glock, shiny and black. I watched as his eyes dropped to it, as calm as ever as I released my hold on it and left it sitting on the table’s surface.

Bryan was instantly uncomfortable, even more so now that the gun was there. “You can’t be serious,” he muttered, glancing between me and Carter, the latter of which still stood near him, ready to restrain him, if necessary.

I wasn’t worried. The gun might sit in the middle of us, but my reflexes were faster. This was what I did, and I could not lie… I rather enjoyed the dance leading up to the finale.

“You don’t know me, so let me tell you,” I paused, lowering my voice to a bare whisper, “I don’t joke.”

“He’s right,” Carter muttered, “he doesn’t.”

I bet the heart in Bryan’s chest pounded wildly, uncontrollably. I’d bet he never thought this would happen, and that would be his downfall.

“The police would—” Still, he tried to talk about the boys in blue.

“The police here don’t give a shit about you, and they’ll write up whatever report I tell them to,” I said. “Your parents will get a call from them, asking them to come identify your body. Tell me, Bryan, do your parents know you’re a fuckup or will they only realize it when they’re staring at your stiff, motionless corpse?”

That did it. Bryan went for the gun, and though I doubted he’d ever shot any gun in his life, my reflexes were indeed faster than his. My fingers curled around the Glock before he got to it, and I lifted it with a steady arm, right at his head.

“You didn’t think I left that there for you, did you?” I asked, frowning.

Bryan exhaled the shakiest breath I thought I’d ever heard, finally realizing what pile of shit he’d stepped into. “You’re not really going to kill me, are you? All because I came for my girlfriend?”

Pure, unadulterated hatred rose in my heart as I growled out, “She’s not your fucking girlfriend. She’s mine.”

Since he had no other options here, Bryan tried to bolt. He got up, sought to run away like some frightened animal, but Carter had him in a chokehold within a moment, dragging him back to me, forcing him to his knees before me. I got to my feet, taking the safety off the Glock.

Zoey pushed away from the stage, slow to walk around toward me. All of our eyes were on her; Carter’s, mine, Bryan’s. Bryan probably hoped she would step in and save him, be his white knight and let him run away from this night with his life, but even if she asked me to… I didn’t think I could let this insect crawl away.

If I did, he’d be back. He’d come back for her. He’d always try something to reel her back in, and that wasn’t something I could allow.

When Zoey made it out like she wanted to talk to me, I told Carter, “Hold him.” I walked with Zoey into the backroom, where we usually spent our time doing much more private things.

The door closed, and Zoey looked at me, something unreadable in her eyes, the same vacancy I saw that first night we met. Bryan made her feel awful things, and I would do anything to make her feel better.

“Are you…” She paused, glancing up at me as she folded her hands across her chest. “Are you really going to shoot him?”

Shoot himwas a bit of an understatement, since I did plan on killing him, but I said, “Yes.”

“And how will this not come back on me? How will this not bite me in the ass?”

I took a step toward her, my gun-free hand reaching out to caress her cheek. “Because I won’t let it. This won’t be on you, Zoey.”

She turned her face into my hand, breathing me in for a moment. Whether or not she believed me, she didn’t say, but I knew she would in time. I would prove to her this night would not ever come to bite her in the ass. “I… I don’t think I want to watch.”

That was a wish I could respect. “Then stay back here. I’ll have Carter come get you when it’s safe.” In other words, when she could walk out of the Dollhouse without getting blood on her pink shoes or seeing his body.

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